The Heartwood bromeliaceae

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Long moments passed before he determined that Saor was content to stay out in the plains on her own. The rain would not bother her and if he knew her, she had already found something to hold her interest. Maybe she just hadn't had her fill of the damp weather. As for Dirge, he decided to linger along the outskirts of the woodland, taking what shelter it provided. His gaze wandered the old wood as he reclined to his haunches; the birds were still in the canopies above. That didn't bode well for the rain stopping any time soon, but at least it wasn't a torrential downpour.

So while it may not have been raining cats and dogs, it was raining another sort. There were footfalls on the damp earth that did not go with the natural rhythm of the rain. His attention was swift to leave whatever ponderous notions could have come to mind to assess whatever was coming his way, only to find another wolf. Knavish-looking and dark as approaching night, it was not curious questions Dirge would have anticipated coming from him. But at least it beat a flash of teeth.

"Well enough to both," came his demure response.