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.