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Feedback is like water here in Colorado: There's never enough. Flames are like, well, flames here in Colorado: There are too many already, thank you.
 

~~~~~
 

She scrutinized the day's results. She had singlehandedly destroyed five of the enemy bases, with another well underway. Her superiors would be pleased, particularly if they considered her conditions. The area was cramped. Not that that was much of a problem for somebody as small and flexible as she. It was more of an annoyance, really. The food, however, was intolerable. If it wasn't for the local wildlife, she wouldn't be able to eat at all. The pellets that she was forced to eat were repulsive. The only water in the area that wasn't well-guarded by the enemy was stale at best.
 

This enemy was dangerous and vicious. It had imprisoned, tortured and destroyed too many of her faction to go unpunished. Some of their intelligence operatives had reported that the enemy's favorite form of torture was to amputate people's fingers and toes to the first knuckles, one by one. Many times she had contemplated the repurcussions of this. It would be devastating. Not only could she not act against the enemy without use of her hands, but she wouldn't be able to walk. She shuddered at the idea and vowed never to allow it to happen to her.
 

She then involuntarily yawned. It had been a long day, and there was nothing she needed more than a good nap. She arranged herself carefully in the sleeping area she had made for herself, but as soon as she had relaxed, a noise jarred her. One of the enemy's operatives had arrived.
 

She started to run, but it was too late. He shouted loudly and deeply:
 

"CAT! What have you done to my living room?"