I may change the title.
I awoke the next morning to the wonderful smell of coffee and the slightly less wonderful sound of a pressure hose. A glare at the clock told me it was 8:38 AM: sort of well into morning, but still too early to be making a racket. Which meant I couldn’t sleep in, dammit. Somebody responsible had to go intervene.
My grumbling started as I went down the stairs. Werewolves prefer ranch houses or trailer parks, because we don’t like multiple stories. This place? Five floors, including the basement. And we were sleeping two to a room. This town house would be snug for six humans; for werewolves, it was cramped. It was making us all bristle-furred, even when we weren’t actually sporting any.
But eventually I made it to the (again) too-small kitchen, where Tonya was doing yeoman duty by making a whole pot of that precious, precious coffee. And cooking up some deer steaks, which was extra nice. “Morning, sis,” she said as I was wisely handed a fresh cup. “Aya already said she’s going as quick as she can. The hide needed cleaning, quick.”
“It could have waited until noon,” I muttered around my cup. “Humans might have been still sleeping. I was sleeping.”