Moonspear make it last before we die

Quite eagerly, he made his way and reveled in the race of his heart in the moments he bothered to feel. More importantly came the cruised of the land underfoot, with the very way it sprang up his legs towards his ears. He melded back to meet it, too, flattening out a stride accordingly when he could, and overall, simply enjoying the rhythm he sluiced through the rain.

With the scent of all the damp plants filling his nose, he didn't smell any company coming and neither did he concern himself. A sensation prickled at his neck, real or entirely imagined, anyway. Faster, instinct spurred, even before he knew he might be pursued but reason argued back, a quieter voice but still, something about how wet it was. Faster, though. He aimed more towards the meadow side of things, angling his gallop out into its open away from the forest--which if his shadow wanted to come too, he was more than welcome to the idea despite his speeding along.