Moonspear stir your gut 'til it pours

Another day of slogging through muck in the lowland had driven him towards higher climes, though there wasn’t any relief from the rain there. Though Moonspear had any number of caverns to duck into to escape the rain, he hadn’t felt a particular need to do so just yet. It was light, but steady enough that he had given up on being anything other than perpetually damp, and it was another day of failed hunting though he would not admit to that either.

So the cliffsides and various rises of the mountain were a better way for him to gather his thoughts and reorganize; the vantage points along there would tell him what his options were, perhaps even enough to tell him what route would be best to slip away from the deepest of pools along their borders. Perhaps there would be better luck just beyond their range, though he had his doubts.

And there was the matter of uncertain evils out there lurking again…

Spying Lyra was a distraction he decided he favored today. Against the gray backdrop of their world, her dark coat was a beacon where it did not blend in with slick pine and timber; if not for the inclination that she was as done with the rain that he was, her sprawl seemed very much comfortable. Just so, the weather seemed a fitting opener.

“I’m tired of this damn rain,” he told her.