Chimera Fields let the rain fall down

He’d been rather wrapped in the change in the sky that he hardly notices the change behind him. The sounds of footsteps and the other’s scent are lost with the constant wind changing directions. The last few steps, however, he is able to note the closeness and turns just as the chuff reaches his ears. Arlo cups them forward and eases his position when there’s nothing threatening about the other ahead.
 
For a moment, he forgets about the change in weather to assess his newest companion. His scent is familiar but he does not remark on it, more invested in the odd color patter the brute seems to have.
 
“Hail,” he responds gruffly, keeping his posture similar to that before him. His tail hangs low and head evens out with his shoulders, but he does not make an effort to close the distance between them. The word has become universal since Trigeda, meeting more wolves that do not know his tongue and his adaptations can sometimes give him an advantage. “Are you headed into the storm, too?”