The high winds whipped at his fur with an ever-increasing intensity to the point where he almost found it difficult to navigate. The great ruff about Dimas' neck and face clawed furiously at his eyes, and he might have cursed under his breath if the eternal presence of Houtu's watchful eye did not threaten to punish even the smallest of sins. It was with strict faith which he conducted himself, and he would not falter even now.
Even as he remained utterly lost in this foreign land.
Священная Мать-Волчица, усмири этот ветер во имя Эфира,he muttered bitterly, shaking his head in a useless bid to remove the clinging hair from his vision. A fresh gust simply replaced the errant fur, and, uncharacteristically, he stumbled.
Warm resistance met his shoulder, and now he could discern the shape of a small she-wolf standing before him.
Dimas was not in the mood for company.
I could not see you,he rumbled.
Apologies. May the Five go with you.
He turned to leave stoically and precisely in the direction he had already come from, which, observed by a third party, signaled that the man still couldn't see where he was going.