Herbalists' Cache This Land

There were pine needles stuck to Dante's face. They fucking itched. It hadn't been his intention, to get himself covered in mud and assaulted by pine needles, but the rabbit had been just (just) out of his reach and he'd really thought that he'd make the leap. He hadn't. Still, he'd certainly faced worse than a little mud, and the rain had been graciously rinsing him since the incident, the debris beginning to wash from his fur as he walked. 

Dante loved the rain, he did, and when the showers had started to become heavier, he really had thought that he wouldn't mind it so much. Still, it was beginning to become a bit superfluous. Herbalist's fall was gushing with water (and hardly made for a good place to warm one's body now), the willows were constantly dripping, and the court was beginning to have concerns that if the excess water didn't dial back soon, the dens might be at risk. 

Huffing a heavy sigh at the thought, Dante shook his face out once again, continuing in his slow trot along the damp ground. Just as he'd begun to turn back in the direction of the court -empty-handed as ever-  a flutter of movement caught his eye, and Dante found himself gazing upon a large pallid figure, similarly muddy, as they padded along. Slowing in his tracks, Dante called out a friendly, Mud's a bitch, innit? He'd found since the rains he'd been able to bond with a stranger or two over their mutual predicament; he figured it couldn't hurt to try his luck now, seeing as his hunts had (once again) been spoiled. He awaited the stranger's response with only a slight apprehension, hoping his friendly demeanor had carried even from the distance at which the two plodded along.