It was cold and wet, the sky a corrugated mass of steel-blue and unforgiving grey as Fenggan hauled himself forward, head lowered and ears down to protect against the pouring rain. The storm had arrived suddenly, carried by a breeze that had lifted the long tresses of his mane and given only the smallest hints of its intended mischief. Droplets had soon followed, quickly turning into a pelting unpleasantness, and even stationed beneath the boughs of the nearest oak trees, the stinging sensation would not leave him. The stallion loosed an irritated sigh, shaking the streams from his face and pawing at the damp ground, turning in a half circle to look for more promising shelter. Scanning the terrain took longer when he had to blink the blur of water from his eyelashes every few seconds, but he saw his chance in a nearby hillside, less a cave than a niche, boasting a slight overhang that would prevent him from being soaked further. He took off at a run, hunched and awkward, suddenly glad that no one else was around to witness such antics.His hooves skidded to a halt when he was in the heart of the tiny shelter, nearly bumping into a stone wall for his zealousness. Twisting around to face the storm that raged only a few feet away, he settled back fully into the enclosure, shivering and working his jaws. Ragged breaths puffed out of him with every faint heave of his shoulders and chest, the sound drowned out with the rain as a backdrop. His parents and siblings would be fine, he reasoned, letting his lithe shape relax as much as it was able to under the circumstances. His propensity to wander without telling anyone his whereabouts often meant that he was alone when these things happened, but he not about to retrace his steps during a downpour, not when he would be forced to wait it out either way. Still, he worried about his sister, even if he knew from experience that she was not half as delicate as she seemed. His brother was fine, would always be fine, but Bao was a great deal more diminutive. Not to mention female, and therefore more susceptible to things like the icy quality mingling with the air. If they had found a hidden place, they could pack their bodies together for heat, emeralds melding with citrus orange hues, his mother's dark tail and mane knotted around them.
A brilliant sizzle of lightning overhead made his wistful features resolve into a scowl, not about to be bullied into fright by nature if he could absolutely help it. The thunder might have scared him in his youth, rumbling loud and endless and slipping a sharp edge under his skin. He'd heard as a colt that thunder was the sound of big spirits speaking to one another, that the roaring snap was all that the mortal things below could decipher. It was ridiculous, but the thought arose again as he directed his gaze outward, silvery stare locking on nothing in particular. Curtains of water trickled from the rock outcropping overhead, but he knew the trees were being whipped around mercilessly. Best to sit and wait, he decided, let the spirits have their skirmish while he watched from the dryness of his lookout point.