Why is it always raining?

Badger's body language is dejected as he meanders aimlessly through the driving rain. His black fur is darkened even further than usual by virtue of it being soaked through, and his mane and tail hang limply down, laden with the weight of the pounding water. His stride is a miserable walk, stomping through puddles like a petulant child and swishing his sodden tail to get rid of the damned flies that won't leave him alone even when the weather is as abysmal as this. The pestilent little midges insist on biting him, and no amount of tail-thrashing will drive them away, because it's humid as well as horribly rainy and could this day get any worse?

As he walks, he thinks of his old stable. Warm, snug and filled with banked straw, he could stand happily in the corner and watch the rain pound outside, whilst he remained safe and dry within. He thinks of all the food he had access to as well, and how pleasant it was to never feel the growlings of hunger within his stomach. Oh, he misses his old home - he would give anything to be back there, with humans to feed him and cater to his every whim, and a cosy stable to sleep his days away inside. If he could find his way back, he would in an instant - being wild had never been on his agenda. How did some poor unfortunate creatures spend their entire lives out in the wilderness, away from human company? The gelding simply couldn't fathom it. Every time he sees a small village, he's in two minds whether to approach - they would be able to see from his halter that he's escaped rather than lived loose all his life, and could perhaps figure out a way to return him to his old home. But each time he resists, because he knows there's certain humans who wouldn't be nice to a horse like him, and he doesn't want to risk being held prisoner by some family of glorified apes. Worse, what if they tried to eat him? No, his best bet is to keep wandering, because surely if he walks far enough he'll find his way back to where he started?

Unfortunately, though, it seems like each step takes him further away from the life he knows and loves. The rolling countryside and scattered towns have been replaced by towering mountains and rugged, dangerous wilderness, uninhabited by people. He's been lost for about three weeks now, the weather changing subtly from winter to spring, and it seems his meandering path has brought him far further away than he ever could have anticipated. That only adds to his feeling of utter misery, and as the rain pounds with more vigorous intent onto his back, he decides to seek shelter. With no manmade structures around, he has to settle for trees, and there seems to be a large forest in the near distance. With a reluctant huff, Badger breaks into a canter, his large hips swinging as his stride eats up the muddy ground between him and the forest. Stones prick the base of his unshod hooves and he winces - he isn't used to not having shoes, but he'd been midway through being reshod when the fire happened and he'd accidentally knocked the farrier unconscious in his eagerness to get away. Naked feet are the least of his worries, although they do provide yet another reason for him to be constantly irritated.

Finally he reaches the forest, and the thumping rain lessens to a drizzle as the canopy protects him. "Good," he grunts, a snort of moisture rasping free from his nostrils. He keeps walking, occasionally stopping to sniff at the plants at the base of the trees - he's hungry, as ever, but he's worried he might accidentally nibble on something poisonous. So he contents himself with standing, leaning slightly against one of the trees and trying to plot his next move - he'll wait until the rain abates then work from there.