Otatso Wetlands Do unto others as they've done to you

Stormchaser had broken away from Qiao and the children to venture into the wetlands. Looming clouds threatened thunder and rain. He lifted his goldlight gaze to the sky and traced the dark of the storm into the mountains. The first droplets struck his whiskers and he breathed in the smell of wet earth.

Then, as he was named, he chased the dark of the clouds on long silver legs. Like lightning across the earth. The feel of his heart thrumming in his chest was the only motivation he needed to push himself further and harder.

like the world's ugliest hippo, she'd submerged herself to the nose in murky water, eyes half-closed, the occasional bubble - from the front or rear - being only signs the dog hadn't drowned. 

her plan was to wash off the muck when the rain rolled in (not that she would've ever bothered doing it manually). until then, gun was content to doze off with the frogs.

was a motion out on the open wetland that lifted one eyelid, surprise raising the other. gun watched a skinny wolf race across, full speed and all, chasing fuck-all.

but she admired the commitment.

woo-hoo! the dog hollered, lifting her full head above the water. get it girl!

The young storm turned with a sharp glint of his gold gaze. 

I'm not a girl. 

Pointed and cold. Stormchaser did not understand what this was. He had never seen something like it. Closer to a wolf than a stag. But still... so far from being a wolf. It was - quite possibly - the most hideous thing he had ever seen in his young life. And he did not try to hide the curl of his lip in defense. 

What are you?

gun raised he paws out the much in a defensive gesture, cocking a brow.

'shcushe 'ee, hhishter.

with a grunt the dog pulled herself halfway out the muck, so her could rest her elbows of firmer earth.

i a' a dog, runner. ne'er sheen one so hhretty, eh?

gun smirked.

You sound like you tried to swallow a beehive, Stormchaser drawled with a frown. 

As good as he was at listening, he couldn't fathom what this ugly beast had said to him. It could have been another language. It could have been a garble of nothingness, spewed only because that's what this kind of creature did. But then, he didn't know what kind of creature this was. They looked as though every natural disaster had shaped them into what they were. Landslides and hurricanes and fires and floods. 

Dog. 

Stormchaser repeated the word he believed it had said. 

Are all of you ugly?