July 5th; Late afternoon, few hours before nightfall; Moderate rain, slight drizzle; 55° F/13° C
Since spending time at the Marsh, Rook had been adamant about searching for clues. Every dimple in the ground, every burl in each of the cedar trees, every branch that had been left on the carpet of pine needles that covered the whole of the grove was a sign. For a majority of the day, they had spent their time along the tree line of Cedarwood Forest before turning inward to find themselves drowning in a sea of tall trees. When late afternoon had come and storm clouds had rolled in, he allowed @Namid and @Bishop to rest and, hopefully, have a bit of friendly, small talk between them - as far as Rook was concerned, he wanted Namid to be a lifelong friend and he wanted so much for his sister to accept her into their possibly expanding circle of acquaintances. After giving the Star Dancer an assuring nod and lovingly nuzzling his face into Bishop's shoulder and neck, he struck out on his own after promising to return before dark. This time he wanted to be alone, to think, and sort out all that he had learned and gathered so far.
Through the trees he tried not to drag his feet, looking down at first in desperation before finally lifting his eyes into the fading gray sky between the thick boughs above him. He missed his mother and the way she often encouraged him (Bishop, who had mastered the art of emulating her in every mannerism and quirk, was no substitute); he missed his father and how his face lit up whenever he came bounding back to the den; he missed his sisters Trisden and Aiyana and the way the commonly squabbled one moment and got along the next. But then he thought about his brothers and the sisters he had yet to meet, and the possibility of them being just within reach... if only he took that extra step or looked in a place he had not even thought of looking. Perhaps then he might have found them.
Perhaps.
A raindrop managed to hit the edge of his leathery black nose. Another hit him along the bridge of his muzzle, and already Rook could tell that he was due to return to his traveling party at any given moment. Bishop was bound to worry if the weather took a turn for the worse and he was not with her. He bowed his head briefly in a short prayer, simply asking for continual guidance, offering a few confessions in regards to his hasty and selfish needs to remain away from his true home and his family.
He had just breathed out an inaudible "Amen" when a squirrel heading back to its primary hiding place scurried along on a branch above him. Its curt chattering drew his attention skyward again but as soon as he made eye contact with it, it continued on its way. Rook leveled his head and let out a brief sigh, unsure of what to make of it. Just like the stag that had brought him into Relic Lore and the winds that had brought them to the west, this, too, was a sign. A divine intervention justified by the presence of rainfall. "What do you mean?" he asked in a hushed whisper, his gaze quickly scanning the forest around him. Somewhere behind him he thought he heard a twig snap and he instantly swiveled around. The fur along his spine already damp and bristled in pure apprehension, "...who's there?"
Chances are I have a BEN WHISHAW gif for that.