Raindrop's Arc

Chapter 1 of 15

Raindrop hung in the air and watched the other drops drift without purpose. They shimmered above him, scattered and slow, waiting for nothing in particular. He wanted them moving as one — sweeping arcs, crossed paths, a dance the sky would remember. A cool current rolled past him. Zephyr Whisperwind drifted close, their pale ribbons curling in the open air. "The sky is yours," they said. "That stretch there. Use it before the storm thins." Raindrop turned. Ahead, a wide ring of soft white clouds had built itself into tiers, like steps rising into nothing. The space inside was huge and empty. A stage. His stage. He pulled out his small painted drum and tapped once. The sound was tiny, but it carried. He tapped again, steadier. One nearby drop twitched toward the beat. Then another. A faint ripple moved through the scattered crowd. Raindrop felt it before he saw it — the pattern beginning to hold. The stage was his. The drops were listening. Now the real work began.