Otter Creek a burning coal touching the prophet's lips

the early morning rain is patchy as it falls from the grey strewn sky, but warm. damp fur curls at his nape but wintersbane pays the weather no mind as he explores. he is hardy and rain has never actually bothered him. if anything, he likes the way it smells. in the spring, like unearthed soil and recently bloomed flowers. he doesn't stray far from sawtooth; sticking to the territory right beneath their claim. the creek is full of plump fish — drawn closer to the surface by the droplets of rain that patter down upon the waters surface. otter trails are prevalent despite the rain, weaving between the alders that would offer shelter from heavier rain should he need it.