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Mal disliked rain.

There was something about being wet that made the cold sink deeper into his bones and left him itchy and irritable until his fur properly dried. So no, he hadn't jumped at the idea of dragging himself out of a nice, warm bed at the ass crack of dawn to go splash around in a pond. Even if it meant fish for breakfast.

Initially he'd rolled over with every intention of going right back to sleep. But once he'd woken up—been woken up, actually—by a rough kick from the feisty little pirate girl he'd taken up traveling with, Mal found he couldn't fall back asleep.

And the more he thought about it, the more the idea of having something to eat today appealed. No way in hell was Myna going to share her catch, Mal already knew her good enough to know that,  so if he wanted some, he'd either have to help her catch it or steal it.

It still took Mal a few minutes of indecisive pacing on the ground floor of the cabin before he worked up the determination to actually leave. Head low, he slipped off into the pines, following the sporadic bits of Myna's scent down an old game trail to the lake.

In the downpour, she was hard to track, so Mal settled for simply picking the most likely direction and circling the shore. He kept away from the muddy bank-edge and cold looking water, paws comfortable on firmer ground, and stayed alert for—well, anything.

After spending the evening having his head filled with warnings about all the strange, dangerous things he was likely to encounter here, Mal decided to err on the side of caution. He tread lightly and kept his senses sharp, ears pricked for any sound other than the hissing rain.