[Likewise, Richie had been out for a nature walk and pacifying smoke. What do you think folks? How miserable is miserable when you just get your cig lit and heaven sends a torrent of rain down as a scolding from Dr. God? Richie swears and loses the whole stick to the grass. It's turning into mud in a big hurry, so he doesn't bother trying to scoop it up. Yeah yeah, he's disrupting the sanctity of nature with his litter, but if he doesn't split quick he's either going to come down with pneumonia or just plain drown.
Richie hitches his jacket over his head and starts navigating his way back to camp. He might have to beg for sanctuary when he gets there, his tent was somewheres on the opposite end of the settlement and he'd rather get dry quicker than try to shimmy all the way over.
As he zigzags through the underbrush, he hears someone. It's distant, muffled by the rain, but the electric zip that goes through his spine at the sound comes through loud and clear. He stops short. His eyes are wide under the bleak shadow of his suspended jacket. The wet is soaking through already, he can feel it against his arms.
But he'd heard...
Richie moves forward. Could be one of those errant memory things floating on by. Could be, could be, but he wouldn't know unless he looks.
His figure is slight and perhaps easily lost among the trees, but his feet crunch twigs, splash through puddles. His presence should be secret to no one as he follows the rough direction of that shout.
His heart pounds all the while. Can't be, won't be, shouldn't be...]
Cowt there, actually can you drop? this pun has erased all of your redeeming qualities
Richie hitches his jacket over his head and starts navigating his way back to camp. He might have to beg for sanctuary when he gets there, his tent was somewheres on the opposite end of the settlement and he'd rather get dry quicker than try to shimmy all the way over.
As he zigzags through the underbrush, he hears someone. It's distant, muffled by the rain, but the electric zip that goes through his spine at the sound comes through loud and clear. He stops short. His eyes are wide under the bleak shadow of his suspended jacket. The wet is soaking through already, he can feel it against his arms.
But he'd heard...
Richie moves forward. Could be one of those errant memory things floating on by. Could be, could be, but he wouldn't know unless he looks.
His figure is slight and perhaps easily lost among the trees, but his feet crunch twigs, splash through puddles. His presence should be secret to no one as he follows the rough direction of that shout.
His heart pounds all the while. Can't be, won't be, shouldn't be...]