Light Intensity Shower Rain
55.4 ° F, 13 ° C
Vaken smelt like pack- more so than he would have liked. He wore the scent of Fallen Tree Cove on his fur, of his aunt and her partner and the flora surrounding them. It didn’t feel right to him. Not because there was anything about his aunt’s family that he disliked. He was learning to love her, the way she reminded him of his father. It hurt a little, but it was a soothing pain. It was settling with time. He cared for the pack, but something was wrong. He didn’t want to be a pack wolf, not yet. He had tried being in a pack his entire adolescence, and it always ended badly. He loved his family. He just didn’t feel like he fitted in there, not completely. He was worried that if he pledged his loyalty, something bad would happen and he would lose it. He was at war with himself.
He had been looking for kin, and here they were. What was wrong with him? He left in the middle of the night, travelling east from the border. It was dawn now and the yearling continued to move. He was restless. He knew he would head back eventually, wouldn’t let himself move too far away. It felt so good to run that he tried to ignore those thoughts.
When the rain began to fall, the yearling barely noticed. It felt nice on his dark pelt, offering a breeze. It was a chillier morning compared to the others. That meant he wasn’t wasting too much energy. He had been in this area before, it smelt familiar. He slowed his pace to a walk, his golden eyes darting around the land. He was brought back to reality quickly. He was drenched, his fur weighted down by the water. His mouth was parched. It hung open, panting, drinking from the sky before he noticed the small creek.