Mini Mission: Gray Sky

"It's raining."

His voice was calm as he lay on the edge of his tent in the entrance and looked out into the dreariness of the desert with half-closed eyes. The sky had darkened and large clouds were piling up. They heralded larger quantities of water, which was good as long as it was not too much water.

The tent was dark. When he had heard the first drops on the tent roof, he had dimmed the lights and later turned them off completely when it became clear that the rain would last longer. And he loved watching the rain. It was now pleasantly dark and unfortunately also rather stuffy in the desert tent. Even the light from outside was no longer sufficient to illuminate the interior, so that only shadows were recognizable and the low brightness from outside hurt his eyes a little. Behind him, he heard one of his falcons chattering softly, but none of them lifted their wings to raise their heads. They slept on, although the volume in the tent continued to rise. The rain beat on the roof of the tent as if it wanted to be let in, but rain was only needed outside. As much as he loved the rain, he hated the water.

Thick drops hit the dust and formed small dark craters. Splashes flew small distances through the air, carrying the dust with them. The air was still shimmering; it would probably be a while before the rain brought the desired changes. He was already looking forward to the change of smell and the drop in temperature, as the last few days had been oppressive. It was spring, but the temperatures had been frighteningly high, while the air had not been moved by the wind at all. So the rain was more than welcome.

He had casually wrapped his tail around himself and he could feel a light drizzle settling on his fur, washing away the dirt of the past few days. He sighed. He was getting wet, but was too sluggish to move further inside the tent. It was clearly too stuffy for him there. He had already spent more of the last few days outside than under the tent roof.

So he just pulled his tail a little closer to him and shook himself briefly, then looked out at the rain again. The ground was littered with small craters and slowly the earth began to turn dark. The water drained away immediately, which was good, because what you didn't need in the desert was a wadi: A destructive stream of water that swept everything away because the earth was too dry to absorb the water in masses. That's why you didn't sleep in the first rain of the year, so that you could react quickly enough to get yourself and your belongings to safety. So far it looked good and so he allowed himself to doze off a little. 

He could hear the rain and enjoyed the sound. It was reassuring and heralded the future, because you couldn't survive here without water. It was rare and so every drop was welcome.

He should actually put out his cactus, but he was too lazy to move. He would have to collect water from the roof of the tent later, but that was okay. He yawned.

The air slowly changed. It became much softer and smelled different. The dust was washed out of the air and the pleasant fresh smell reached his nose. He could feel the air cooling down and hoped that it would find its way into his tent.

Thunder sounded in the distance. Ah, a thunderstorm was approaching, that might not be so good. So he opened his eyes and squinted until they had adjusted to the brightness again. Large, dark giant clouds loomed on the horizon. They lit up brightly from time to time, closely followed by the rumbling. Thunderstorms usually meant a lot of water. He hoped that the advancing rain had already softened the ground enough to hold the masses of water. Otherwise large lakes would form and later a raging river. He really didn't fancy that. But he slowly and laboriously picked himself up, shook himself and looked inside. As a precaution, he should start packing everything up, because a thunderstorm was no joke.