Swimming in the Rain

I swam past a hedgehog, she was splashing.
"Are you drowning?"
After a laugh that sounded half like a gurgle, half like a desperate yelp, she turned to me:
"You can't drown in the rain!"
"You can't swim in the rain either," I retorted.  "But I think we're doing both."

"Alright, gimme a hand will ya?" Her pricks wore pearl-like raindrops, swaying dangerously with her each movement, daring to fall.

She gave me a paw and I held on to it. It was bony, cold and wet.
"Stop staring, I'm much better looking when I'm dry," she snapped.
"Better tempered too I hope."
"You don't know hedgehogs,"
"I sure don't. They never taught us about them at school,"
I nearly added that my closest encounters were seeing them pancaked on motorways.

I slowly guided her to a branch of wind, and bid farewell.
She didn't make say another word but thanked me silently with a wet tap of her pointed nose.