There’s a thunderstorm creeping along the edge of the horizon, and if she concentrates she can catch the faintest whiff of rain. Faint, but growing stronger.
Diou rattles his quills in annoyance at her sudden change in mood. The marousen is roughly twice her size, but wears a thick coat of fur and quills that renders him naturally waterproof.
“Ay.” She chucked the sweet twig she’d been chewing at him, still disgruntled at the thought of spending another night indoors. She was born and bred to run, carrying messages no human could be trusted with; waiting grated at her nerves.