In August's defence, she was really,
very tired.
The summer days were the longest and most arduous. Even with the shade of the surrounding wood protecting the farm from the most vicious of the heat, it was still blisteringly hot, and even August's wide-brimmed sunhat was doing little to keep the rays from becoming a personal affront. The loft of the barn, in the corners beneath the beams, was cool and shaded. Taking up refuge there was the sensible thing to do.
Molly had deemed it a good idea too, and had clambered up with her, nesting next to her in the straw. Her long, fluffy tail swayed idly from side to side in her sleep. She was not an efficient farm cat, because the sound of mice skittering around was still clearly audible, but she was excellent company. Less abrasive, far more generous than her grumpy brother. Oh, he was a real card. Probably out scouting trees to chop with that axe of his.
Her hair sprawled around her as she rolled, one hand still resting on her cat's belly.