We hunted Elias for a few weeks in this style, going into small towns, asking around, and usually getting an account from locals. Every few days we'd close the gap by a few hours, until one night a general store clerk told us that Elias had been seen that very morning. This is it, we thought. We're so damn good at this that we haven't even been at it for a month and we're gonna bring his sorry ass home.
As luck would have it, a stinging downpour fell that evening, as we were heading into the pass that would have brought us within an hour or so of Elias. The skies had been clear one moment. And then wham- mud-season showers. We were already in big sky country. No trees or much of anything to take cover under, really. We couldn't worry about our own comfort at a time like this. We had to press on.
It was like the evil eye was waching us; just as the pass came into sight through a curtain of cold rain and the little bits of hail mixed in, we saw the sides of the formation start to give way. The sheer, vertical face of the plateau expelled a small flood from its muddy sinuses. Topsoil came flowing forth over the edge and plummeting into the pass. Great rocks and stones rolled like snowballs in the viscous blockage. And, pricelessly, I watched my superior stomp his foot and yell "fuck!" for all it was worth.
We had to scream at each other from a few feet away; the drumming of the rain was overwhelming. We had to find some high ground or natural formation that wasn't going to flood. After we were thoroughly soaked and probably carrying our own weight in rain, I located a cave a few feet above ground in one of the nearer plateaus. We scrambled inside it's gaping dark maw, where the storm followed us in echoes. "Alright, love, would you rather start a fire or block off the entrance?" he asked me. His white bangs were so wet, they completely obscured my view of his eyes. I tried not to laugh.
"I'll do the latter." He was better with flint anyway.
One of my favorite things in our entire pack was this folding screen. I unfolded it across the mouth of the cave, securing it with spikes into each side wall. It did a nice job of cutting down on the cold wind and the rain that drifted inside with it. A little draft came in via the top two or three feet of clearance, but that was ok, perhaps even ideal. We'd need a smoke outlet, after all. Geoffrey made quick work of a fire by cheating heavily- he used a lighter and one of those chemical packs of kindling- but it was probably going to be the only way we'd start one given all our fuel was wet.
"Hey, would you mind if I stripped down? These clothes are freezing, and I wanna dry off before getting into fresh clothes."
"Do you have any fresh clothes?" I asked him, meaning well. He opened his pack and groaned.
"No, thanks to this-" he gestured towards the sky, "-bullshit."
"Go ahead and get your wet clothes off. I'm about to do the same." I didn't think much of it at this point. We had to share a lot of things, including where we ate, slept, and bathed. I was getting to feel really comfortable around him. Even safe. And I hadn't been in this position around men for as long as I can remember.
He seemed a little embarrassed. It was kind of funny to me, how he loved to show his body off, but no one ever really got to see it. Stranger still, he wore more clothes more regularly than any mobian I know. He treated clothes in many ways that overlanders do- as agents of modesty.
When he pulled off his shirt, I felt this thrill, like a kid watching an R-rated movie for the first time. I had seen him topless before, but this was different. He was undressing right in front of me. He was announcing this to me. He was saying, look at me, Hershey. Look at me, woman, and the beauty that is the male form. Then the wet shirt got stuck on his head for a moment, giving me more time to study the white fur on his belly, culminating in a pillowy tuft on his chest. I never saw him freeing his head, so I'm sure he caught me staring at his abs.
I should have been ashamed, and I part of me knew it. But I wasn't. I looked him in the eye.
He leaned forward onto all fours and crawled the few paces towards where I sat. His eyes kept scanning me, observing me, waiting for a moment to strike. Then it finally happened. He seized me, drawing me up against him, still on his knees. He kissed me as I've never been before. I was expecting the tour de force of a large man, not the strategically poised, perfectly executed, delicate articulation of my mouth that I experienced. He stroked my hip, my back as I melted like a plastic spatula on a hot stove. I made myself supple, let him move me, like a willow in the wind.
When he broke off the kiss, his eyes were still searching. "You ok?" He asked softly.
"Of course." Suddenly I felt bold. I traced his lower lip with the smooth end of my claw. "Did you mean to ask me if this is what I want?"
"Yes," he whispered. His lip trembled slightly against the tip of my finger. His eyes followed my every move.