Whitebark Stream So I throw two-thousand ones in the sky

Heat was a familiar beast to Nephele, with her not quite dark not quite light coat. Grey was odd in that way, never sure if it wanted to repel or absorb, and she absolutely abhorred it. A part of her whined for the trees from the forests she’d left in her wake, their neat branches and interwoven leaves providing blessed shade she wasn’t finding here and now. Even in her birthplace, shade wasn’t in short supply. Of course, it was very much colder there, than here, but she knew better than to try and count her blessings out loud.

Either way, her patented way to keep cool wasn't exactly working too well, she thought to herself as she dislodged her head from the mud pit she’d stuck it into, looking up at the sky with a grimace. It baked it to her fur in seconds, clumping fine grey strands together, and she immediately realized she absolutely hated the feeling. She backed away from her chosen mud pit, and instead dunked her entire self into the water, only rising from it when the sound of civilization came to her in the form of paw steps and a tongue lapping at warm water. 

She rose from the water like some kind of mud covered monster, water sloughing from her fur and the mud still caked on in places as she tried to rapidly think of a way to explain why, exactly, she was plopped in the middle of the water covered in mud. But there was no good explanation for what she’d been doing other than the sun had taken her brain and a hula hoop and made it do jumps like a dolphin in her brain fluid. So yeah. She had absolutely nothing.