Firstwyvern

The persistent pitter-patter of rain hammered down rowed steel-framed homes, sleek and sheen. An otter walks along the smoothly paved roads with an umbrella in-hand. He looks around slowly with a hedonistic gaze, scoffing at the poor excuse for a home that he lived in. He shuffles a bit with his clothing, propping the collar of his coat up to keep his neck warm. His outfit covers just about everything, even his tail. It took some courage to keep his hood down, despite the umbrella. The soft thumping noise of his heavy lead boots trotting on the tainted, acrid earth makes him wince a little, making sure his umbrella’s safely overhead. Th