Willowstorm

He had been fully prepared to give the stranger his space and to sit in silence as they waited out the rain and to not interrupt the stranger's work, but the voice that issued from the cloak was a somewhat familiar one. It took a moment to place it, changed as it was in timbre and depth as the speaker had grown up. "Evening, Ardyn," he returned gravely. "I hope I am not disturbing your work." He could see more clearly now by the strange light what the male was working on, though he couldn't see yet what it was intended to be. He should have guessed the male's identity just by the dexterous way he wove the willow fronds - there weren't many who bore that peculiar mutation of the paws that allowed such agility. A beat longer and he realized that the light was issuing not from some odd lantern or foxfire as he had initially assumed, but from glowing markings that masked the other male's face, markings that had not been there last they'd met. You would think he wouldn't be so surprised by markings and mutations appearing unexpectedly on someone later in life, considering his own changed appearance, but the phenomenon did not cease to cause him a certain religious interest just because of the repetitive nature of it, and he obliquely studied the male's face with renewed interest.