Sea Legs
08-22-2019, 12:14 PM
Dova turned her head in an exaggerated manner, looking from the stranger to the storm brewing on the horizon. It took her another minute to realize that he was talking to her, and that the inclement weather would soon be upon them. Even as she lingered, processing her thoughts, drops of rain began to fall, splattering the ground with dark speckles. "Well..." She wanted to protest, worried about being separated from her friend, but when the rain began to come down hard, it did not take much longer for her to make up her mind. She followed along, bold as any friendly whelp might be, introducing herself as she followed Thoren, finding her place at his flank, still small enough to be somewhat sheltered from the wind and rain. It was not enough to fully protect her, but she appreciated the gesture, and felt she was capable to standing up to the weather, until it truly began to pelt them.
The fat globes of rain that burst upon impact had shrunken in size, flying into her with sharp stings that she could not avoid. It crashed into the ground, bouncing away as little balls of hail, far too dangerous to be caught out in. Thoren did not have to tell her to run twice. Dova turned her cheek against the wind, trying not to lose sight of the older wolf as he scampered on ahead, leading the way into the narrow passage of a cave. Instantly the cacophony of the storm died down, muted by stone walls. She lingered at the mouth, turning back to look through the sheet of rain that poured over the entrance. Hopefully Sinclair had made it to safety as well, wherever he had gone.
Finally, she took the time to look around, noticing that she and Thoren were not the only ones who had taken shelter in the dark, cavern crevice. "Oh!" Her eyebrows shot up in surprise as her gaze fell upon a familiar wolf. "Friend!" She greeted cheerfully, before moseying over to the center of the cramped space, and in the typical puppy fashion of ignoring everything else, she promptly sat down and began to dry her thick fur with her tongue.
The fat globes of rain that burst upon impact had shrunken in size, flying into her with sharp stings that she could not avoid. It crashed into the ground, bouncing away as little balls of hail, far too dangerous to be caught out in. Thoren did not have to tell her to run twice. Dova turned her cheek against the wind, trying not to lose sight of the older wolf as he scampered on ahead, leading the way into the narrow passage of a cave. Instantly the cacophony of the storm died down, muted by stone walls. She lingered at the mouth, turning back to look through the sheet of rain that poured over the entrance. Hopefully Sinclair had made it to safety as well, wherever he had gone.
Finally, she took the time to look around, noticing that she and Thoren were not the only ones who had taken shelter in the dark, cavern crevice. "Oh!" Her eyebrows shot up in surprise as her gaze fell upon a familiar wolf. "Friend!" She greeted cheerfully, before moseying over to the center of the cramped space, and in the typical puppy fashion of ignoring everything else, she promptly sat down and began to dry her thick fur with her tongue.