Swiftcurrent Creek the black lips

The day started off pleasant enough: sprawling blue skies with cottony white clouds drifting slowly overhead. By late afternoon, however, storm clouds began to clot the horizon and thunder grumbled distantly. The afternoon's skipping breeze lost its flirtatious edge and became much more pushy, shaking tree limbs and scattering baby blossoms all over the grass before gusting them away to destinations unknown.

Bones padded along the creek, unaffected by the moody weather patterns. She enjoyed storms and would likely seek out a good seat once the show really started. For now, she enjoyed the sensation of the forceful wind kicking up every few minutes to wind its cool fingers through her silvered nape. She also savored the heaviness of the air, the shift in pressure that foreshadowed all spring thunderstorms. Bones could practically taste the ozone as electricity veritably crackled at the tips of her whiskers.

With a quiet woof, the youth suddenly threw her hindquarters to the ground, balancing on her left hip and staring off at the gloomy, darkening sky with its ominous mushroom clouds growing in size by the minute.