Moonspear i see the torch we all must hold

Gray, wet days came and went, one after the next in a seemingly endless succession. The first few could be appreciated for the thorough shower and the soak--his mother had instilled an appreciation of the rain, or he had picked up hers after she had gone, and taught him to listen to its beat. Beside that, and more practical, the plantlife could surely appreciate it all after their long, warm summertime days. But it swiftly became too much, and neverending. Bordering on worrying, though Jarilo tended to think too much without help already.

He had put his paws all over familiar trails, torn as usual, between the guard in light of everything (the suspicious wolfeater in the lowlands especially rankled him), the hunt (to feed the growing mouths, and the appetites behind them), and of course, when all was said and done the landscapes itself when he could--before his family pulled him back home to their flowery field where he eased right into peace despite the world at large. 

On the Spear, they were granted the high grounds, at least, but slick rock did no one any favor. He urged his young to mind their steps, and hopefully stick to the grassier swatches of land while he was left to hope they wouldn't wash away too. Then, he wondered as he picked his path towards a middling creek he had not visited in a few days, was this a prelude to winter and what was to come? What happened if this turned to ice, then snow? His skin prickled with a phantom chill but soon, he rounded a bend and heard the waterway well before he saw it. Rushing from the snowmelts above, its banks had swollen--far worse than he had ever seen it be. 

Frowning to himself, he followed it back down the mountain.. albeit from a distance.

i needed a current naturalist-related thing for him