The early afternoon sun shone down on a small island nestled in the middle of a vast body of water. It was just after noon, and a particular figure was trying to enjoy his damn vacation.
'Atticus really screwed me over.'
Whisker couldn't believe his current situation. He was currently sprawled out on a cluster of leaves on the island's beach, sunbathing.
Every now and then, he adjusted the reflector sheet in front of him, trying to catch the perfect angle of the sun.
But no matter how hard he tried to relax, his eyes kept drifting toward the top of a distant cliff, where a large figure sat cross legged, completely still, eyes shut.
Whisker shook his head.
'I can't even enjoy my well earned vacation anymore.'
One had to work before they could earn a vacation, and Whisker could say with full confidence that he had worked more in the past few decades than most people did in their entire lives.
