Stone Circle Sweater weather

His tongue snakes out and across his nose. He stands awkwardly and shakes the rain from his shoulders and hips, pointlessly, but cannot help but try and dry off to fix the discomfort. When a voice calls through the rain, he shrinks back and down again; tail tucked to his belly, he scoots himself in to a tight bundle.

The stranger looks particularly dark given the saturation of the rain. A blackened face with focused eyes, which is unnerving. Willow opens his mouth to answer and blinks quickly, feeling raindrops against the whiskers on his brow.

Looking for shelter, comes the answer.

I'm sorry — is this your t-tree? His teeth were chattering slightly. His tongue ran across them and touched at gums, tasting the rain. I'll — I promise to go once the rain has, h-has stopped.