Moonspear make it last before we die

A steady rainshower had made itself comfortable, drenching the verdant mountainside and all upon it. When it showed no signs of letting up by sometime later in the day, the grayscaled Ostrega was fed up with trying to avoid the weather. He relented soon after and delved out in it, throwing caution, and dryness, to the winds. There were far better things he could busy himself with and a part of him wouldn't mind seeing if anyone else was out too. A wet coat wouldn't melt him, and he did not like being quite so stationary for this long; the rain had outrun the yearling's patience.

After a kick of his heels, he took off, heading fast for the edge where forest met small meadow.