Gorun marches along with the rest through the rain.  He doesn’t bother with pulling his hood up, either, since all that would accomplish would be to get it soaked and have water run into his eyes.  He’s not enthusiastic about the weather by any means, but he hardly seems particularly put out by it, either.  If anything, he’s faintly amused by the way some of the others seem to be handling it.<span style="font-style: italic">I’ve never understood it,</span>the bull muses to himself.<span style="font-style: italic">It’s just </span>water<span style="font-style: italic">.  You get wet.  You’ll dry.</span>He does give Albali a free pass on that with the news of her familiar, however.  That he can understand to some extent.  Gorun can’t imagine that flying with waterlogged feathers would be easy.<br/><br/>“While I don’t oppose the notion of waiting for the rain to clear, I’m tempted to suggest pressing on,” he speaks up.  “We don’t know that they wouldn’t be expecting a report from the group we fought regardless of the weather, for one thing.  For another, they might not be anticipating us to attack in the rain.  We could gain an element of surprise,” he suggests.  Most of his earlier irritation with several members of the group seems to have subsided, at least.