Firefly Glen the mood it changes like the wind

As the great heaving mass of atmospheric pressure and moisture broke upon the Glen with a sudden rage, Rian turned his face to the sky and smiled. He loved the rain, and how it brought renewing moisture to the fields that harbored the game they favored. It was a natural cycle he didn't understand on an academic level, but appreciated all the same. The downpour was not at all torrential, but it was certainly heavy, and pattered against the now-slick ground, creating puddles where the runoff failed to reach the multitude of streams that lined the glen.

He continued his patrol, albeit slower as not to slip in the mud that was quickly forming beneath his feet as the water soaked into the firma. It wasn't often he found himself alone nowadays, but it was nice to be afforded with the oppertunity to think. His muscles still ached from his fight with Rannoch, but it was a constant reminder of how foolish he'd been. Rian was not a prideful creature, but to give in to envy in such a violent way was telling of his occasional instability. Hormones, too, played a part and the logician in him was aware of it. He was two weeks shy of his first birthday, and Rannoch was not far behind him.

Thunder clapped above and drew him from his thoughts. Somewhere ahead, a small flock of starlings scattered from the long grass.