The cave was cold, humid, warm, wet and dry. Quite the slew of different things used to describe the same thing simultaneously. Melvus seemed to have picked the worst time to fall asleep, seemingly ignoring the fact that it was about to rain. There was a fire and the cart had been taken into the cave. Melvus didn't move, his clothing clung to him and were heavy to bear. He was tired and so, chose not to move for a time as the rest of everyone dried off, chattered and generally slowed down for the latter half of the day. They couldn't travel in the heavy rain which made the loud sound of the world falling outside of the mouth of the cave. 

Melvus cast his Arm of the Heavens, removed his cloak and most of his robe. He took them in the arm and held them above the fire as he sprawled out in the wagon, in the long sleeved shirt and pants he wore under his outfit. His clothing still soaked, he lay there waiting for them to dry or for something interesting to take his attention.