herding cats in a hurricance

So far, Swift's developing boldness had brought about no consequences, or at least none that were enough to deter him. Thus, he was right at his mother's side, peering into the outside world, a world that was usually quiet aside from birdsong that had become rather noisy and chaotic. The wind howled, the trees cowered before it, and the rain soaked his mother's back. Flashes of light and a distant rumbling were not scary, they were curiosities. His ears, still in a state of folded-ness, were as perked as they could be, as he leaned forward to sniff the cool, wet air. It was though the incoming storm had caused world had taken on an entirely new scent, and he was very interested in all of it.

The littlest Frostfur climbed onto his mother. His nose dropped to her damp fur, and idly he licked, as his eyes continued to gaze upward into the world outside the den. But soon, his attention was drawn from outside the den to his mother alone. Water was a new concept to him, a new taste, and a new smell, and for now it had stolen the show from the storm. Swift licked and nuzzled through his mother's fur, intrigued by this new thing.