Golden Glade rien pour l'instant

Rain rain rain.

She supposed it was the beginning of summer rather than the last vestiges of spring. ere was a noticeable difference in the rain of spring compared to the rain of summer and fall. There was the tempo of it all — spring and fall rains were gentle, where summer rain was a torrent of liquid. The smell of it was different as well. Also the look. The feel...

It was a very nuanced thing, the seasonal differences, but all Orson could think of was that it was extremely annoying to have rain be the dominant weather forecast. She was tired of the damp. The sun had not been hot enough to drain the water from the soil, so sleeping was extremely annoying and sticky.

She spent most of her time in forests and got a master class on the umbrella-like nature of each species of plant. She was quickly learning that this forest, full of sugar maples, was decent in deterring rain from her body. So she decided to linger for a while. Occasionally a large drop of water plopped right on her head and she growled in irritation, but it was not the worst thing that could happen. 

A stick snapped nearby and it immediately drew her attention. Orson approached the noise, crouched and ready to run, either away if it was a threat, or towards if it was potential food...It turned out to be a wolf. A dark feminine creature with something on her mind. Orson chuffed and relaxed...slightly.