The Great Pillow Fort Caper

Roary blinked his big, golden eyes. The sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of marmalade and plum, but Roary’s internal clock was still set to “FULL-ON FUN!” His bed, a cozy nest of soft straw and discarded feathers, felt… well, it felt incredibly boring. It was a place for sleeping, and Roary had far too many important things to do before he even *considered* closing his eyes.

“Boring, boring, boring!” he grumbled, pushing a fluffy pillow with his nose. He wiggled his stripey tail, a sure sign of impending mischief. Mama Tiger was humming a gentle tune in the next room, the sound of her purring a soft rumble that usually meant naptime was fast approaching. But not tonight. Tonight, Roary had a grander vision.

He spotted it then, a magnificent pile of soft, squishy things in the corner of their den. Blankets! Pillows! The very building blocks of adventure! Roary’s tail thumped a rapid rhythm against the floor. This was it. This was the answer to his naptime woes. He wouldn't just sleep; he would *camp*. He would camp in a place so epic, so magnificent, that no sleepy feeling could possibly penetrate its walls.