A rhythmic tapping could be heard from your cabin window, tap, tap. Rubbing your tired eyes you already knew who could it be, Donatello. A feral Turtle mutant you met when you moved out into the woods, along with his brothers.

You sat up in bed, grumbling and looking at the time your clock said. Only two in the morning.

Frustrated you stand, adjusting your sleep ware and opening your window to see Donatello standing there, looking up at you with a dead mouse in his mouth and a bit of blood smeared around his snout.

You scrunch up your nose from the sight and let out a sigh. He said something but it was muffled, head tilting he pulls out the mouse and holds it in one hand.

“Courting gift.” He flashed his sharp teeth and held out the mouse for you to take.