The sound of rain fell as a constant throb.
Picking up the brew he had made he took a swig, belched, then ran his three fingered fist across his snout.
He shuffled over the damp mulch, blowing into the embers that now burned low.
“ Be damned if we can keep living like this,” he said hugging warm breath into his cupped digits, “something needs t’ be done and done now.”
Sharing the protection of the overlapping saucer shaped fungi with their tar black, corrugated roof’s, was Mewlip Filt; shoulders hunched, head lowered, eyes screwed into slits.
“You leaving?” asked Mewlip
“Yip.”
“When?”
“Now.”
Scraping up a large leaf from the wet floor, Orgrevas rolled it into a ball then kicked it hard. It flew out well beyond the shelter, landing with a slap on the bent grass.
“I’ve said g’dbye t’ me scrubs ‘n Dewsweet packed me a satchel filled wiv provisions enough t’last a day or three.”
“What about the rain?” queried Mewlip.
Orgrevas shook his bulk and sighed.
“It’s cos the rain that I needs t’ go. We can’t keep livin’ like this no more. Tell me scrubs that I’ll be awhile. Tell ‘em I’ll miss ‘em. Tell ‘em…hell, just tell ‘em.”
He made a clicking sound with his tongue, blinked twice and was gone.
Rain fell as a curtain.
The grey day closed in around him.
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