Whitewater — [AW] Chasing a dream

Ohr was unkind this day. The fat, splashing droplets mostly slid off Urna's oiled fur, but she still had to screw her eyes shut against the insistent, pinging spray. She should come back another time. Rainfall swelled the whitewater, sure, and often revealed interesting treasures long buried in the banks—but there was little use hunting for them while the water was still high. Her search for food had gone poorly, too; the abundant prey of the alpine forests must've been hunkered down (like she should've been), or hopelessly shrouded by the downpour. It was hard enough to even see through the rain, let alone smell or hear.

Urna ducked under the low-hanging branches of a conifer and entered the dark and mercifully tent-like space beneath its boughs. it was drier here, and quieter. She took the opportunity to shake out her coat with an unpleasant wet slapping noise. The tentacles on her back curled close against the chill.

Now, to press on homeward, or wait here for the rain to stop? She'd just started to circle the trunk, testing the spongy needles around its base—when a sound caught her attention. Urna lifted her head, her broad ears swiveling. ...Hoofbeats? Barely. It could have just been the click of branches in the wind.

And a voice. Maybe there was something interesting out there, after all. The hyena pushed her head back out through the damp fir branches and cast her eyes upslope—just in time to see a brightly-plumed wolf hurtling downhill towards her. With a snarl, she scrambled to get out of the way. "Watch where you're going!"