The rain poured hard outside. It had been raining for days, and it never seemed to let up. Darcy was worried about the coming weekend. Not only did her family’s business depend on decent weather to make enough money to sustain it for several months, but she was bringing Sol to his first rendezvous ever, and she wanted it to be fun. Mud was not fun. Mud Faires were almost always a nightmarish week of cold, wet, boring, and messy.

She’d told Sol all about the Faire and how much fun it was. She’d told him about the battles, the music, the food, and even the canoe races. Most of that would still be there even if it rained the whole week, but it just won’t be as fun. Their clothes would be muddy and wet, their shoes would be coated in mud, they’d have to pick their way across straw paths everywhere they wanted to go, and well, they’d have to go out in the rain.

The forecast didn’t call for rain all week, just through the first weekend. Still, the mud would be there, and it would still be perfectly able to ruin things.

Friday afternoon, Darcy piled her bags and bedding by the front door and sat down in the nearest chair. She couldn’t do anything else until Sol came home from work. She stared out the window and just let herself wallow in her frustration and sadness.

She was lost in her thoughts, imagining how disappointed Sol would be, and how he’d never want to go to another rendezvous, when a hand suddenly hit the window. It stayed there, pressed up against the glass, while the rain poured around it.

Darcy’s heart beat faster than she could count as she stared at the hand. Her mind cycled through all the different things that could be happening. Then she realized she knew that hand. It was Sol’s hand. Why was he standing out in the rain with his hand pressed up against the window? Was he hurt? In trouble?

Darcy finally took hold of her senses, jumped out of the chair, and flung the front door open. Sol stood by the window, leaning against it, while he bent over. Darcy worried he was in pain and ran out into the rain.

“Sol!” she cried, grabbing onto his arm. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

He looked up at her in surprise. “What? Oh, no, it’s just the stupid mud.” He gestured to his foot, which was lifted and crossed over his other leg. The shoe was caked with mud.

“Where did you walk?” Darcy asked, looking around. Her heart was finally starting to slow to a normal pace.

“I was coming over here to see if the downspout was clogged–it didn’t look like much water was coming out of it–and stepped in this soft spot here.”

Darcy looked down at where he was pointing. That was when she saw his shoe half-buried in the mud. She looked down at his foot again and realized that it was his sock that was covered in mud. She couldn’t stop herself from bursting out laughing.

Sol looked at her with narrowed eyes. “You think it’s funny that I’m a huge mess? I won’t even be able to go inside without tracking mud everywhere.”

She shook her head, unable to respond from laughing so hard. Sol shook his own head in response. After taking some deep breaths, Darcy was finally able to respond.

“I don’t care,” she said with a loving grin. “It’s just mud.”

---

Prompt used:

Once, when I was about twelve, I went with my parents to Imphal. I had never been there before, so I didn’t know how cold it was. At the time, I wasn’t aware of the oddity of it being so cold there, when it’s only a few miles east of our island. I couldn’t tell you what the season was at the time we went, but I was always aware of the fact that Imphal received what was considered an average snowfall, when we usually got hardly any.

Anyway, when I went to Imphal with my parents, we stayed with some friends of theirs. They had a boy a few years older than me. He had already gone through some Power training, which I was not old enough for yet. Oh, how mean he was to me. He had little more than the basic training, but in his eyes, it was miles ahead of where I was, not even old enough for the basic.

He would boast about how he could start a fire just by snapping his fingers. Then he would show me. He got in trouble if his parents caught him. He wasn’t supposed to start fire in the house. He even showed me how he could turn on a light with his finger. It didn’t stay lit after he let go, but it was still pretty cool to watch him do it.

Now, with a snap of my fingers, I could freeze his fire. I could make that light explode. With a little more effort, I could freeze his smug smile right there on his face. Of course, it’s been a few years now, and he’s probably not the same arrogant kid he once was. He probably doesn’t even remember me from that visit.

Still, for whatever reason, I would just love the chance to tell him that I’m the one that brought true winter back to Pithea. Imphal’s not so special anymore.

---

Prompt used: Once, when I was…

I didn’t know where the footprints would lead, but I followed them anyway. I didn’t call out to the rest of my group, because I didn’t want to alert the boy, if he was indeed on the other end of the footprints. Leaving the fence and walking back the way we’d come, I was too focused on the prints.

Suddenly, I was knocked down from the side.

“Oof! Get off me!” I whispered harshly.

After we’d untangled and backed up, I saw that it was a boy. Maybe THE boy, but I couldn’t tell in the darkness and fog.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I didn’t…I don’t…why are you here?” he asked me. His eyes were wide and he glanced in all directions constantly. He barely looked at me for more than a second at a time.

“We’re looking for someone.” I stayed as still as I could so I wouldn’t frighten him further.

“Who?”

“Well…a boy.”

“Me?”

“I don’t know. Are you lost?”

“No. I’m not lost. I want to be left alone.”

“Are you Dylan?”

He flinched at the name, but answered, “No. That’s not me. You have the wrong person. Maybe there’s some other kid in these woods.”

“Okay. Well, how old are you?”

He finally looked me in the eye, but shut his mouth.

“Okay… Aren’t you too young to be out here alone?”

He shook his head.

“I hate to disagree with you,” I said, shifting my legs so that I could sit on the ground more comfortably, “but I think you are. There’s a curfew in this county, and it’s way past it. If you’re younger than seventeen—and I can tell that you are—you should be home right now.”

He only shook his head and looked away.

“Dylan, why don’t you want to go home?” I asked gently.

“I’m not Dylan!” he insisted, immediately looking around to see if he’d drawn any further attention. “My name is Samuel.”

“Okay, Samuel. Why don’t you want to go home?”

He shrugged. “I just don’t. Why does it matter to you? What are you going to do, make me go home?”

“Well, no. I don’t know where you live, Samuel. But I should probably take you to the police station—”

“No!” He jumped to his feet in one swift movement.

“Wait! I won’t take you to the police station!” I assured him quickly. I didn’t want him to take off running.

“I don’t believe you!” Moonlight filtering through the trees reflected off the tears in his eyes.

“I promise you I won’t. Please, sit back down.”

He looked at me for a few seconds, deciding what to do. Then he slowly sat back on the ground.

“I won’t take you to the police station, and I can’t take you home. But can you do something for me?”

He shrugged.

“Can you show me where you plan to sleep tonight? If I saw that you had a warm, comfortable spot, I might not feel so bad about leaving you out here in the woods.”

The boy looked around us for a bit. “I don’t…I don’t know. I guess I’ll sleep here.”

“No, no, that won’t do.”

---

Prompt used: You weren’t sure where the footprints would lead, but you followed them anyway.

Sorry about the abrupt ending.