"How far are we going before we turn back?" Ari asked. Fortunately, between her cloak and the tree, she was dry, for now. Huddling as deep in the cloak as she could, she ate her dinner and thought about the last time she'd been outside in a torrential downpour, which had ended in her swearing to never, ever let anyone tell her that rain was romantic.
And that had been in summer.
"Well, it is getting dark," she said, attempting something like cheer. "Maybe once we wake up, the rain will be done. Then after we get home, I'll write a song about it, and we'll be brave adventuring heroes in it, and if it rains in the song, it will only serve to glimmer upon our persons and set off our ruggedly handsome and ethereally beautiful good looks."