A happier, merrier, furrier story for once. Tell me what you think everyone!

Prologue

"Dammit, it's raining again."

Asdalu grumbled as he looked out of his hut at the torrent outside. It was smack dab in the middle of the Wet in the Ozmone plain, and after four straight weeks of being constantly inundated with water, Asdalu was beginning to lose his mind. Even the Nanna were generally pissed off about being wet all the time. Whenever the herders tried to milk them, they would instinctively wait until the Garif were at the right angle, and then proceed to unleash a torrent of their own right into their faces. Nanna steak suddenly became a familiar sight at mealtimes.

Two more days passed before the rain finally let up, and this was an opportunity that Asdalu could not pass on.

Asdalu trotted off to his War Chief to inform him of his decision to "frolic in the fields" to celebrate the infrequent break in wet weather. Supinelu saw the Garif coming, and almost immediately knew he was up to no good.

"The flowers sure smell better when they're not soaking, don't you agree my chief?

"Asdalu, what complaints do you bring today? I have had just about enough of your bickering…"

"They smell SO nice in fact," Asdalu cut him off. "That it would be a shame not to go out into the meadows and pick them while they are fresh don't you think?"

"You know that exploring the Ozmone is prohibited for another month until the Dry sets in. Sinkholes are everywhere, and I don't want anyone without experience with them just wandering around…"

"Yes, yes, my thoughts exactly."

"I'm not here to reason with you! You know what happened to Engulfedu, I don't want that happening again…"

Before Supinelu could finish, Asdalu was already on his way to the bridge.


Before long, he was happily racing across the plains on a chocobo, which Gurdy was kind enough to give a discount on. The local Moogle was pretty miffed about being grounded due to the weather as well, but for reasons quite different than Asdalu's. He recalled her talking about Sorbet back at Rabanastre and something scissoring, but Asdalu could not quite comprehend exactly why or what she was cutting with the other Moogle. Some freshly tanned leather perhaps? It eluded him still.

After running out of Eskir berries, Asdalu impatiently poured a pint of Bacchu's wine down the chocobo's throat hoping he would get similar results. The bird began to jitter uncontrollably and, just seconds after Asdalu instinctively jumped off, spontaneously combusted.

"Well……………..hmm." Asdalu stroked the fur on his chin. "What am I going to say to Gurdy…"

A loud growl resonated from his stomach. Asdalu looked awkwardly at the now roasted poultry in front of him.

"Hmmm….."

That afternoon, the Garif reached the border of a vast tree line. He had heard tales about Golmore, most notably from an androgynous curiosity who wandered into Jahara by the name of Vaan. Apparently, the race of the scantily clad bunny that accompanied his troupe came from this place, and Asdalu was quite eager to find out more about them. He walked into the thickets without second thought.