It looks like Rain

[hda007]

The noric stallion Súrion led Riona along the rocky outcroppings for miles as the land sloped steadily downward. Soon they would reach the bottom of the valley and the climb up the other side would surely overcome them if Riona could not spot shelter in time. The skies rumbled and the sun was hidden behind a thick and darkening blanket of cloud. The winds rushed fiercely at their backs, pulling at Riona’s cloak and hair. She grabbed at the loose tresses and twisted them; tucking them inside her cloak and pulling the hood up over her head. It would not help for hearing, but it would keep her vision clear. Her deep blue eyes scanned the rocky crags ahead. Some four miles ahead she spotted a cleft in the side of a bedrock face where the stone base had crumbled leaving behind a broad overhang. There was no protection from the winds, but it would be enough to keep them out of the rain.

Almost as quickly as the thought entered her mind, the clouds gave way to their heavy burdens and water dripped down. Riona urged the stallion on, prodding his flanks for a brisker pace. It wasn’t long before steady showers covered the land. The warm rocks steamed and small streams washed down the slope with them. They were almost there. Súrion slowed on the treacherous grounds; the water made the topsoil slick and the rock beneath the surface only made it worse. The sky rumbled again and a fresh wave of water came down and the winds picked up. As the ground began to level, Riona led the stallion to the edge of the rock shelter and hopped down. She led it by the reigns under the overhang and close to the interior wall. Pulling the blanket off its back, she wrapped it tightly around her to fend off the wind. They considered themselves lucky. The thunder and the cold kept Riona alert and thinking of little else until at last she could no longer fend off her fatigue and she slipped into a light slumber. Súrion stood watch.

[werdtheverb]

For days, the mountains had been dry, and Elle had exhaused his waterskin three days prior to the black and tumultuous clouds that'd just begun to water. Having sought safety from the sharp sun, Elle was curled beneath an overhanging boulder when his ivy and moss-made joints seized up, and where the rain was falling it couldn't reach him. So with thin wooden arms wrapped around thin wooden knees (though all was covered in close-fitting ragged cloth), he was trapped sitting, knowing all he could do was wait for the humidity to soften him--since these barren mountain paths didn't see enough traffic, that a stranger wouldn't notice him along the narrow cliffside, if even one would be upon the road.

Elle was traveling the mountains seeking out a hermit, a reclusive magician who may know the arts he sought. In the meantime, Elle hoped a sonic spell could attract a stranger, so he used what little energy he had to create an enormous crash, thunder with a flash of light entirely too slow and close to the ground to have been lightning. Elle's final effort left him wasted, and the crystals in his chest drained fully of energy--the sleepless one passed out.