"Yeah, I bet," Ryouma muttered. A raindrop smacked him in the face; another raised goose-bumps on his bare shoulder. He'd left his traveling cloak with the rest of his gear at the campsite; its waterproofing wouldn't have helped him much with trout-tickling, but he missed it now. He lengthened his stride, then broke into a jog. Kuromaru seemed perfectly happy to bound alongside.

Tsume wasn't there when he ducked under the massive limbs of an ancient pine into the tree-cave where they'd pitched their tiny two-man tent, but a fire crackled briskly in a little ring of stones, sheltered by the branches from the raindrops that were now beginning to fall thick and fast. The pine's spreading boughs dissipated the smoke as well. From ten meters away, not even a ninja who knew what he was looking for would be able to see their camp.

Of course, that was partly due to the low-level genjutsu Ryouma had set along with the other traps guarding the perimeter of their campsite. Tsume and Kuromaru had reported the area clear of any human presence for five miles in any direction; Ryouma hoped they were right. The rain looked ready to keep up all night, and fighting in a thunderstorm didn't even break the top ten of his favorite ways to spend the night. Especially after he'd spent the whole day running.

He left the scouting--and the excited bouncing--to Kuromaru, and concentrated on threading the fish mouth-first onto a set of sharpened sticks, then tenting them over the flames. The offal-laden rock he set as near to the coals as he could manage, where reflected heat might bake it. Then he dug his cloak out of the tent, wrapped it around his goose-pimpled shoulders, and tried to figure out if Kuromaru was serious about the blackberries.

Granted, Kuromaru probably picked up his lady friends by sniffing their tails. His advice was questionable at best.

"Dammit," Ryouma growled, poking the fire with a handy stick. "I wish she'd just told me."