“Fat rain,” Quinn complained to the forest at large, his muzzle creasing as he dodged a generous drip that the canopy had failed to catch. He didn’t know why it made sense that there was fat rain and skinny rain. It was something he’d often heard from his siblings in the days before they’d scattered; it was possible it only made sense to him and his kin. That was a thought Quinn tried to veer away from before it could affect his mood - but the rush of nostalgia, punctuated by the dull pang of guilt, made him squeeze his eyes shut and take a deep breath at exactly the wrong moment.
Sploosh.
“Perf - wow - absolutely perfect,” the feathered wolf snorted through a sudden snoutful of water cold enough to make his teeth clash. It wasn’t often Quinn resented Ohr’s bounty or questioned his endless compassion but, as he furiously blinked rain out of his eyes, his hackles lifted. The feathers that lined his nape and tail flared and he raised his head, his jaws parting in a challenge to the insistent weather. With his vision obscured, it took Quinnat a few blinks to realise that there was something beyond the downpour.
A tall, still figure watched the wolf from a cluster of greenery, unmoved by the steady torrent hammering at his hide. Droplets clung to the ridges of the stag’s antlers like jewels. Its pelt was so white that Quinn could only stare for a few moments before he had to avert his eyes.
“Ohr.”
As if it had been the wolf’s gaze pinning it there, in the second he looked away the stag took off.
“Wait!”
Quinn sprang after the near luminous figure, paying little attention to the sharp slope he was hurtling down.
Sploosh.
“Perf - wow - absolutely perfect,” the feathered wolf snorted through a sudden snoutful of water cold enough to make his teeth clash. It wasn’t often Quinn resented Ohr’s bounty or questioned his endless compassion but, as he furiously blinked rain out of his eyes, his hackles lifted. The feathers that lined his nape and tail flared and he raised his head, his jaws parting in a challenge to the insistent weather. With his vision obscured, it took Quinnat a few blinks to realise that there was something beyond the downpour.
A tall, still figure watched the wolf from a cluster of greenery, unmoved by the steady torrent hammering at his hide. Droplets clung to the ridges of the stag’s antlers like jewels. Its pelt was so white that Quinn could only stare for a few moments before he had to avert his eyes.
“Ohr.”
As if it had been the wolf’s gaze pinning it there, in the second he looked away the stag took off.
“Wait!”
Quinn sprang after the near luminous figure, paying little attention to the sharp slope he was hurtling down.