Searching.

I sat at the edge of the great concrete monolith, my shoes digging into its jagged surface. Sheltered from the driving rain by the pavilion above me, I looked out to the vast ocean far below, and — using my VisionTech — watched the sea dragon. 

Golden, powerful, with horns protruding from its head. Its bright green eyes surveyed the tempestuous sea, and it dove underneath the driving waves. The thick barrage of clouds above carried with it a harsh wind, yet the dragon was unbothered. It continued its diving, in and out of the waves — relentless, as though searching for something. Idly, I wondered what that could be, as I listened to the crashing of the waves below me. That incessant crashing, echoing across the monolith, mingled with the sound of raindrops, which whistled through the trees behind me and drummed on the pavilion’s roof above. 

I yearned to join the dragon, but I could see one of Rainsong’s famous colossal waves approaching in the distance, ready to drench the coastline, as they did roughly every few hours during autumn and winter. I estimated it to be over a thousand feet tall. While it would likely land below my concrete perch, which stood two thousand feet high, I didn’t want to take any chances. It was time to go. Sea dragons were strong creatures, built to withstand these cruel storms. I, however, was not a sea dragon.

Rainsong. Such a strange land, where the rain never stopped. But I knew that just beyond the horizon, where the borders of the country ended, lay sunlight. I had enjoyed my afternoon here, but my heart yearned to return to sunlit tropical lands. So I moved out of the pavilion, into the driving rain. I kicked off on my hovershoes, and flew above the storm.