Heron Lake Plateau i've cultivated the stamina of a cartoon basset hound

@Whimsy I backdated a few days to allow for him to travel a bit! Let me know if I need to change it up!


reference
Date: August 6th
Time of Day: Evening / sunset
Cloud Cover: Cloudy
Precipitation: RAIN
Temperature: 61°F 
Wind Speed / Direction: 6 mph / Northerly   
Viewing Distance: 2 mi

if his weightloss hadn't been obvious before, it surely was now. sodden, his fur clings to his frame, accentuating every muscle in his body, every large bone. it was dope, in a way. did he look wild now? he hopes, kinda. if this was what he was gonna be, then he'd might as well look the part, right?

he definitely wasn't acting the part. he climbed up the flat mountain in the hopes of escaping the flooding, only to find that there was another lake on top of the rocky plate, overfilling. there was no sun, but the darkening sky told him that night was coming. good. he was tired. maybe he could find a place to sleep? somewhere less wet. he wasn't expecting dry.

no problem! omg i love him and your writing style.

It was more difficult for Whim to keep track of the sun's position when the sky was constantly thick with dark rain clouds. On top of that, she was mentally lost in the childlike reverie of splashing in endless puddles, chasing and devouring the rich abundance of rain-excited fish (they were bolder in this weather for some reason), and being a sopping wet mess of enthusiasm in general. Something about the rain was a comfort to her soul, even when it came in the form of a torrential marathon- the likes of which she'd never experienced before. 

So there she was, climbing the plateau, singing quietly to herself about the wonders of the rain. Then she stopped and closed her eyes to shout-sing the final line with everything she had in her. "Raaaaaain Rain, resplendent rain! Soak me to the heart, flood me with deSIIIIRE. We'll marry in the morn, if only you'd stay with me another nIIIGHT!" She wasn't a poet or a songwriter or even a singer, so it was poorly versed and terribly off-key, but she poured her heart and soul into the little diddy.

With eyes shut and snout still pointed towards the sky in a pseudo-dramatic display, she reveled in the feeling of the breeze and the rain all around her, like some kind of Disney princess who had just finished her big song in the movie. At that moment she didn't notice the bony wet boy a short way ahead.

his ears perked up as he heard the screeches of some...creature, not too far from him and at first he got excited. didn't lady cougars (redundant? maybe) scream like that when they were in heat? did they usually sing? was that what it was, just really bad singing? 

he trotted towards the noise, fluffing up his fur as best he could but trying to be slick all at the same time until he heard the last of the song and saw its singer looking up triumphantly: a wolf. oh, benry said, slightly disappointed. i, uhh....thought you were another mountain lion....or sum'n.

The approach of the cougar fell on deaf ears up until he was close enough for her to hear the squelch of mud beneath toe beans, and by the time her eyes flew open he was already speaking. The wolf took a moment to soak in the situation... mountain lion... amiable enough... seemingly disappointed. He looked wild, edgy. Edgy cool, not nervous. Though clearly he was underweight it only served to accentuate natural muscle tone beneath his rain-darkened coat.

Whimsy had never seen one of these guys up close, so she was doing her best not to eye-shag him. She kept looking at him and looking away, blinking more than was socially acceptable, and finally managed to utter something, "No, sorry, just a Whimsy." She looked to the sky momentarily and then smiled much too wide for the occasion and belted out, "Lovely weatha, innit?" She had imitated the accent of a strange bird she'd met once.

For some reason, she was choking on the site of this cat. She'd never experienced the inability for the conversation to flow effortlessly in all of her adult life... which wasn't saying much because, uh, she was a year old. But still!

wh- he said at first, before her words began to settle in. what's a whimsy? you a whimsy?

she began to say something else, but weird. huh? he cocked his head at her. he could discern some of the words, but they came in muddled, extra hidden within the accent she was sporting. it's a bit shit. he said after he figured it out. i look like, like uhhh... he smacked his lips, his brain processing the words. like someone threw me inna washer and put it on delicut.