<blockquote>Lines of deep consternation were drawn in her face, seen in a furrowed brow and a muzzle lightly wrinkled in displeasure. Her eyes, half-way through their gradual change from blue to gold, were raised to the sky. Every morning for nearly a week she had sat in this spot, a short walk from the den in which she slept, and and stared upwards. Her expressions on these occasions had swiftly turned from eager expectation to disappointment to impatience, and now she was bordering on anger.
Why was it so <i>empty</i>?
Perhaps she was just being ridiculous. As she had grown, Belladonna's affection for rain had not ceased, though she was barely beginning to comprehend its strangeness; none of the other wolves she had met particularly seemed to care. Their lack of mutual infatuation did not bother Bella, who did not need anybody else to share her feelings for hers to be validated, but she had noted the curiosity.
She was not yet able to explain her love, either. It was unlikely that she ever would.
<b>"Where are you?"</b> she asked quietly, her face softening as she accepted that this would be another sad, dry day. She sighed, her young shoulders rising and falling to the dramatic rhythm of her internal frustration. There were clouds in the sky, but all the wrong kind - useless, wispy white things, good for nothing, not even shade. Perhaps - perhaps she would be permitted to visit the lake, the lake she had seen but never properly visited. Then, at least, she could jump in and drench her fur and pretend that this miserable situation wasn't real. </blockquote>