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Stealing Darkness's table.
Noire Nishant was irritated. This wasn't her usual irritation; for once, her annoyance wasn't targeted at Layla. No, it was the weather, which was beyond her control. That meant that all the screaming in the world wouldn't get the damn rain to stop ruining everything about her day.
The brown wolfess hadn't been having the most enjoyable of days. She had managed to find an old cabin to spend the previous night in, but unfortunately its roof had been spotted with various holes. This wouldn't have presented a problem if it hadn't started to downpour only hours after midnight. As if her mood wasn't sour enough as always, waking up early never helped, especially if waking was by means of being completely drenched.
Her teeth hadn't gotten a break from clenching since she had scrambled around in the darkness early that morning, fumbling around for her satchel until her eyes finally adjusted to the light and getting out of the house as quickly as possible. By then the worst of the rains had ceased, but a light drizzle still fell. It had managed to turn her satchel into a giant lump of soaking leather which was not pleasant to haul around. Worse, it had completely ruined her notebook, which meant that she wasn't going to be writing again any time soon--not that it mattered, but it was nice to see something other than a wet blur in place of already illegible handwriting.
It was afternoon by then. After a round of thunder and lightning the tempest had finally calmed down; it had been like this all day: raging winds, roaring thunder, blinding lightning, and then just a light drizzle. If only this damn weather could make up its mind, Noire thought, silently fuming to herself. She was huddled under a tree, wrapping her arms around her legs as she waited. Her body was rigid and she tapped her fingers on her knee. No doubt that, if I go out and try to hunt, the blasted rain'll come back. I've got to wait to be sure that it's all over.
It seemed like her best bet for now was to simply wait for an idiotic rodent to scurry in her path; she'd whip out her knife in an instant. Typically she preferred eating fish--after spending a good amount of her life at sea, she was used to that type of food--possibly over a campfire, but she hadn't gotten to eat much so far other than a handful of tart berries.
It'll all be worth it, it'll all be worth it; to find Layla, I'd sit through a hundred thunderstorms.
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