In the darkness rain brings, something flickered faintly, making raindrops glow blue.
Messiah, better known as Mess, was no expert tracker and had no idea of the significance of footprint spacing, but she was still following the trail. Newly arrived in a massive and varied household, she had asked a Rathril what she could do to make a good impression, and the snappish reply had been to "Go find that coward Phaelon*." That was why she was here, although she wasn't entirely sure of her accuracy. Her only lead had been given by a rather shifty Ferrikoon. In any case, if she didn't find Phaelon here, then she'd go and search elsewhere for him, whoever he was. She only hoped she'd find him soon; although she had nothing against water in general, she didn't care for rain.As she walked she tripped over the rocks her quarry had been skirting, splattering her fur with mud, but there was no shortage of water deep enough to wash herself in, so she remained relatively unperturbed. As she followed the pattern of Wockee feet, she contemplated her recent nervousness. She'd been very worried about her arrival, uncertain that she would manage to find a friend who wouldn't be bothered by her clumsiness, and whenever anyone had spoken to her she had gotten so nervous she'd barely been able to reply. Maybe she'd have an easier time with this Phaelon, whoever he was.
She'd heard there was a town around here, hidden somewhere in the swamp. Maybe that was where Phaelon had gone. Heartened by the prospect of getting out of the rain, she sped up.
Indeed, Phaelon had found shelter in a small town, the name of which he didn't know or care about. As usual, something had startled him, and because he was Phaelon he had exaggerated it mentally until his fur stood on end. He'd bolted and ended up here somehow, and couldn't remember the way he'd come in his blind dash. All this was nothing new--despite the fact that he could probably defend himself reasonably well from anything that came after him, he tended to jump at every shadow. A noise like the one that had startled him--at least, he thought it had been a noise--was normally enough to send him nuch farther than this, or even to make him take to the skies.In fact, he would have liked to have continued while he still had the momentum, but he'd suddenly looked around and realized he was somewhere he didn't recognize, which had snapped him from immediate terror to creeping unease. Phaelon didn't normally take to new places even at the best of times, and after a scare like the one he'd just had, he was even more nervous than he would have been. A few passersby stared at him oddly as he crept along the street, head down, ears flat, each foot laid cautiously on the ground as if he might set off a land mine. His head swung from side to side, searching for something familiar.
As his nervousness mounted, he reached up and pushed his headphones over his ears, trying to calm himself with music.
*Pronounced felon, as he will very emphatically remind you.
