Drip. Drip. Drip.

Heron twitched her ear, flicking away the droplets of water that collected onto it. She re-adjusted herself, only to find her bedding completely soaked. She pried open her eyes, drowsily picking her nose out of her fur.

Drip.

A fat drop of water splashed onto her head, startling her awake. She growled under her breath. Not even a week into the Rain-Season, she thought, and I haven't been dry once.

There was no point in staying in the Ensigns Quarters, since it was already soaking. She wouldn't mind, but the base was underground. This should be the last place she could get wet! But rain always found a way- whether through cracks in the ceiling or via smaller roots that dangled from the tree above, it always found a way to rain in base. She climbed out through the bracken entrance-netting into the main base, shaking her fur. All around her, Felcrids were waking grumpily from their Quarters, shaking water from their fur and feathers. She ignored these, padding her way over to the Mess-Den, where a few others were gathered.

The Mess den was the driest part of the base, carved deep into the wall. It was clear that many other Felcrids had vacated their Quarters to come here that night, seeking warmth. Heron noted five there already- Marsh, who was busy grooming sticking-buds out of her fur, Night, who was digging into a starling next to her mate, Whisper. Along with Watcher and Butterfly, all chatting quietly between themselves. Heron sighed, shaking her fur and plucking a blackbird from the centre of the Mess. Its feathers were cold and soggy, but she was too hungry to care, and dug in.

"Enjoying yourself?" A voice asked from the den entrance. A tall shadow drifted in, ducking out of the way as Watcher padded past him, followed closely by Butterfly.

Heron nodded, taking another bite.
"Want some?" She asked. Talon laughed, sitting down close to the food-pit.

"You look grumpy," He observed. "Couldn't sleep?"

Heron twisted to scrat at her ear, before pausing to groom blackbird-blood out of her chest fur.
"You'd think living underground would be drier," She grumbled. "Apparently not."

Talon laughed half-heartedly, stealing a glance at the sodden pile of food.
"Well, you're going to hate me for what I have to say next," Her father warned. "Osprey just announced today's Squadron Detail. Three's up first."

Heron spat feathers from her teeth, suddenly getting a substantial amount of them down in her throat.
"You're kidding?!" She whined. "It's pouring out there!"

Talon sighed, sweeping feathers from his fur.
"I don't write the Garrison rules, Heron," He tutted. "He's waiting at the exit."

Heron opened her mouth to protest, before thinking against it. She stood, ruffling her feathers with annoyance.

Osprey was waiting at the Exit, towering over the other members in her Squadron. Drift, Honey, Spike, Russet and Branch were waiting patiently by, twitching their tails and grooming their water-matted fur.

"Well, look who finally decided to show up," Spike snarled, his fur spiking. "Trust an Outkitten to be late."

Heron's fur bristled and, just as she was about to make a snippy remark, a low growl interrupted them.
"Spike, mind your tongue. You're in enough trouble already," Osprey growled. "Unless you want to be put with 2nd Squadron, I suggest you keep your peace."

"But-" Spike began, but was silenced by a menacing growl from the Major. He flattened his ears, and kept quiet.

"Honey, do you think the route is safe?" Osprey inquired, flicking his tail.

Honey considered this, his ears dropping in concentration. Heron half-hoped that it wasn't, then they wouldn't have to go out. If it weren't for her Ensign duties, and her Officership on the line, she'd quite happily find a dark, quiet spot and hibernate like a bear 'till the sun shone.

But, to her quiet disappointment, Honey seemed to believe their Squadron Route was fine.

"The pine needles should cushion the ground enough to walk on. I don't think the wind is so bad, either, so we'll still be able to defend our airspace if it comes to it." Honey explained, casting a glance to Heron and Spike. As much as she hated to admit it, her and Spike were teammates in patrolling the air above their territory- as the best in-flight fighters and hunters in their Detail, it was a sad reality to be teamed with him.

Osprey seemed satisfied with the answer, leaving Honey to address his squadron.

"Alright, listen up," he ordered. "Today we'll be taking the route down by the pond- don't give me that, Ensigns-" He warned as a collective groan rose from the gathered Felcrids. "Prey will be harder to find, so Drift and Russet are in charge of digging into the burrows if necessary. Branch and I will refresh the borders- the rain will have washed them clean. Spike and Heron, as usual, are on aerial duties.

Spike looked as if he wanted to protest, but thought better of it, resorting to a low grumble instead.

Squeezing through the exit among the roots of Kepa's Oak was harder in the rain, as the mud had shifted them out of place, resulting in an uncomfortable squeeze and many thwacks in the eyes.

Eventually, the Squadron managed their way through the thick obstacle and into the night- and rain- soaked forest. Heron braced herself for the onslaught of rain that began to pelt at her from above, silently cursing the skies for their cruel timing. Honey remained unbothered by the weather, proceeding forward with ease while his squadron followed behind.

As the moon grew steadily brighter, revealing just how heavy the rain truly was, Heron wondered how she'd even get into the air, never mind staying there. Her wings felt heavy and waterlogged, her feathers pulling on her skin.

Shaking her fur, Heron poised herself on a boulder, shook out her wings, and took off. Spike followed close behind her, still complaining. A gust of wind almost knocked her out of the sky as she rose above the canopy, but she adjusted herself quick enough to not get blown away.

Miserable weather or not, the view from the treetops was quite a sight. She could see right to the other end of their territory, and just beyond. Many miles in front of her, towering over the territories, was that incredible structure which had held so many conferences, and beyond that, the grey shapes of distant mountains, far, far away.

The shapes of fluttering bats and drifting owls could be made out as small black dots on the horizon. Bats had always proved difficult prey- they were too small, too fast, like flying mice. Owls were easier, but riskier, too. But when caught, they made a decent meal.

"We should head lower- we might be able to snatch some roosting birds," Spike suggested. Always strangely enough, he never seemed  bothered by the rain. Water droplets rolled off his fur and wings like a duck. Lucky fool, didn't know how good he had it.

"If we can find them," Heron snapped back. "You're forgetting how dense it is down there!"

"So what? We can see just fine in the dark!" He argued. "It'll be fine!"

"Of course it will, if you want to scare off the rest of the population." Heron retorted. "You think us clattering through the branches won't scare off the prey?"

"I think you're being dramatic."Spike grumbled. "I'm going down."

With that, he tucked in his wings and went into a steep dive, disappearing among the black trees below her.

Growling, Heron followed suit, bracing as damp leaves brushed against her face, and thick branches snapped into her wings. There was a series of panicked squawks as the nesting birds shot from their roosts, dodging out of the way of a big, white form. Spike lunged, his claws latching onto a singular magpie as he went in to land.

Heron landed with a hard thump on the forest floor, fur bristling.
"Well, congratulations Spike!" She spat as the tom dispatched his prey. "You just disturbed all of next month's meals, for one, measly magpie! How in Adara's name do you plan to explain that to Osprey!?"

Spike scowled, shaking pine needles from his feathers.
"I caught something, didn't I?" He retorted. "That should count for something."

"Oh, yes, I do apologise. We only have a whole season to get through." Heron snarled, pushing past him. "Don't worry, I'm sure that one magpie is enough to feed all the nurses- heck, maybe even the veterans!"

"Yeah, alright I get it, Heron, you're mad. Get over it though, will you? Drift's probably caught something by now." Spike defended, flicking his ears.

Heron rolled her eyes, scraping the dirt with her claws. A few moments later, Honey emerged from the undergrowth, frowning.

"Is everything alright here?" He asked, his voice tinted with concern. "I heard a crash."

Heron scoffed.
"Not to worry, Honey. It's just this mindless feather-brain destroying the environment."

"Oh, quit the drama will you?" Spike demanded.
"Why don't you quit being so impulsive!?" She snapped.
"I'll quit being impulsive when you quit being such a stuck-up bi-"

"Enough!" Honey growled. "Both of you, squabbling like kittens, it's ridiculous! We're continuing to the pond- and I better not here a single hiss out of either of you!"

Heron grumbled, following him back to the rest of the Squadron. Branch and Drift were chatting happily, comparing their bounties of prey as little Russet bounced around Branch's paws.

"Hey you two!" Drift called. "Catch anything nice?"
"No." Heron huffed, padding over to her. "Spike caught a magpie, though."

"That's great! Hey, look what Russet caught!" Drift announced happily as she pulled a squirrel from the pile. "She's learning so fast!"

Russet fluffed her fur, beaming proudly. Spike padded by, ruffling the young cadet's fur in congratulations.

Heron turned to her sister.
"So, how was the forest? No trouble?" She asked. Drift chuckled.

"Not exactly," she turned to branch. "But this one thinks he saw a Ghost."

Branch groaned at this, and rolled his eyes.
"Will you shut up about that!?" He growled. "It was probably just a trick of the moonlight!"

Heron blinked.
"You saw a Ghost?" She asked, intrigued. "What did it look like?"

"Hmm...let me think- uh- A Ghost." Drift laughed as they stood to walk. Branch flicked her ear with one wing.

Heron looked expectantly at Branch, who grumbled.
"It was probably only an outsider-"

"Glowy white cat, no eyes to be seen, malnourished as heck, disappears into thin air- classic ghost, you said it yourself!" Drift interjected. Branch had always seemed to have a fascination with the supernatural, but as quickly as he'd claimed to see a ghost or a demon, he'd refute these claims for fear of- well, of Drift's teasing, mostly.

Branch shook out his ears and sighed."Like I said- probably just an outsider." He said- though it was clear he didn't believe it himself.

"Well, if it was an outsider," Heron said, nudging him. "They were certainly a weird one." Branch smiled in thanks as they continued to walk, mud splaying out over their paws as they reached the pond. Heron scrunched her nose, the stench of mud and rot causing her to reel back in disgust.

"Adara's fangs, does it always stink like this in the rain season?" She remarked, covering her face with one wing. "Surely it wasn't this bad last time!"

Branch chuckled. "I guess so... but it's not- I mean, I don't remember this place smelling this bad." "Perhaps it's just a deer that got stuck in the mud," Honey suggested. "It happens. Russet, little one, why don't you go catch a frog?" Russet shook her head, sticking out her tongue.

"No! it's stinky!" She whined, planting herself down. Spike rolled his eyes and squelched over to her, nudging her onto her paws.

"Come on, kiddo! Us ensigns and officers have to hunt stinky things all the time!" He said. She made a grunting "ew" noise and flapped her small wings in protest.

"Then I don't wanna be an officer!" She squeaked.

"Well then, you'd have to be a medic, like Sunset-" Honey offered with a slight chuckle. "But even her job involves smelly things- smellier things, even!"

Russet made a frustrated sound. "No!!" She whined again, stomping her tiny paws.

Branch gave her a small nudge. "Tell you what- you catch a big, fat frog, just one, and I'll let you sleep all day tomorrow, hm?"
Eased by the lure of laziness, Russet finally gave in, nodding her head and sticking out her tongue. Spike, on the other paw, nudged her into position. She stopped flapping and dipped a paw into the water where the pond met mud. After a moment of hesitation, she waded in, and disappeared among the reeds.

Heron smiled, and stretched, flicking mud off of her paw. Her attention was drawn to a Duck gliding along the muddy brown water, and she crouched, waiting for it to reach the bank. When it did, she pounced, locking her teeth around its fragile neck and snapping it. She picked it up in her jaws and pranced back to the group, side-eying Spike and his small magpie with a prideful huff. Drift rolled her eyes. Heron dropped her catch onto the bank and spike huffed, sitting down to scratch his ear. He dropped his dead magpie down and licked his paws, ignoring her much bigger catch. Heron stood and watched, smirking to herself.

A terrified screech broke the quiet, and Spike immediately jumped to his feet.
"RUSSET!" He cried, splashing into the mud. The small cadet burst out of the reeds and into her brother, scrambling through the pond growth. Honey bounded over, ears flattened.

"Russet, what happened!?" He demanded. Russet hid herself under Spike's wing, burying her face in his fur. Heron frowned, and picked her way into the reeds. The stench of decay flooded over her, and she cringed.

"What's going on!?" Branch called out. "Is everyone okay?"

A fly landed on Heron's ear, thick muddy water clinging shoulder-high to her fur. She felt something open in her gut, a deep, biley, retching sensation. She pulled back the reeds, bracing herself for the wage of rotstench that hurled her way.

The corpse had been there two, three days at least. Propped up on the branches of a falled tree, fur and skin sagging and wings half torn.

An eyeball bobbed to the surface in front of her.