Rain pours down, sending people scrambling for cover. They find refuge in taverns, inns, and even homes with leaking roofs. The sky shows no mercy. An ancient promise of dried-up lakes and vanishing oceans has finally come to fruition. Waterfalls bridge the sky and earth. If a man could swim upwards, he might drown or reach celestial rivers.
A young man runs through the downpour, soaked to the skin. Wagon tracks on the roads are filled with water, turning to mud at the bottom. His tunic is drenched and speckled with clay, kicked up from his heels, making him appear brown. He weaves through the silt-covered streets of the village, battling the storm to reach his carriage. He never intended to stay more than a day, but leaving in such a tempest is unwise. He decides to wait until morning, delaying his plans. Not that it matters much—his plans are flexible, his destination uncertain. The village is larger than he anticipated, making his return trip seem longer than before. Few people remain on the soaked streets and flooded alleys, though it was bustling during the day. It’s a place where a stranger could easily get lost for an afternoon.
Each step is a struggle as his shoes stick to the muddy ground. He dodges torch-lamp posts and seeks temporary shelter under the canopy of an abandoned stall. An apple sits on the counter, and he slips it into one of his many pockets. He isn’t a common thief but seizes opportunities when they arise.
Catching his breath, he watches the rain cascade from the rooftops. Despite the loud drumming of rain, he hears a sniffle. He listens closely and hears it again, coming from beneath the stall. Stepping back, he peers under the counter to find a small, crying figure—a child.
“Excuse me,” he calls out, raising his voice above the rain’s din. The child looks up. The space under the stall could fit three more of her if they squeezed. She is petite but sturdy under her wet robes, her face frail and tear-streaked. “Are you alright?”
The girl holds up a little leather shoe with untied laces, her voice trembling. “It-it-it came untied, and I fell. See!” She shows him her scraped palm, covered in mud. The young man feels a surge of pity. He gently takes the shoe from her. “Here, let me see your foot.” She extends her foot from beneath her robes, and he ties the shoe. “All better, see? Where are your parents?”
Her tears continue as she looks at her shoe. Remembering his carriage, he suggests, “Let’s get you someplace dry. We can clean up that scrape, too. What do you say?” She nods, taking his outstretched hand. They venture into the rain together, navigating the soggy streets.
“Come on, it shouldn’t be far!”
He runs slower now, holding the girl's hand tightly. At the carriage, he gives her a dry tunic, though it nearly swallows her. She nibbles on some bread and quickly falls asleep. The young man covers her with a blanket, listening to the rain's relentless dance on the carriage roof.