Altar of Twilight No Joy in Mudville

Set before Whip rejoins the Caldera and the Galaxy debacle. @Hydra

It was a cold night and it rained without any sign of stopping. The sky was particularly dark for the moon and stars hid behind clouds of spilled and spiraling ink. Whip could see little, save for the dark ghastly shape of the mountain that sandwiched him in this middling valley, illuminated only by the stray flash of lightning that arced in the distance. The boom of thunder reverberated though this natural echo chamber, dampened only by the constant hiss of rain. It felt as if it were the mouth of some great beast; growling, alive and angry. Willing -- wanting to swallow any unsuspecting wolf whole.

Whip was afraid. It was a primal thing, fear; rooted firmly in survival and the most basic of instincts. There was nothing to do but wait for the storm to pass, so Whip trailed along the mountain's westernmost edge in search of shelter from the elements. For several miles, he walked though mud before finding a small natural overhang. It was shallow, offering little room to spread comfortably, but it was a dry place.

After shaking all the water he could from him, Whip laid across the cool, dry dirt and watched the rain fall.

Hydra moved through the Altar of Twilight, tracking a familiar scent with a waving tail. She loved this weather—though she knew it was not the safest to traverse when lightning struck. It was a storm that was close, and the boom that came rattled even her bones. Displeased by the interruption, Hydra made her way toward the same overhang another wolf had. 

By the time she had entered, it was too late to turn around... but at least she had not collided into him. Still, the quarters were tight. Beautiful weather we're having, she quipped, turning so that she could face the entrance. She kept herself guarded, in case she needed to spring suddenly away from the other.