It was raining like the sky had a grudge.
Rae bolted across the camp, little legs pumping, hands flailing above his head like a makeshift umbrella that did nothing.
To make matters worse, that idiot Alex had zipped the damn tent shut like it was Fort Knox.
Rae had to scratch, bang, and holler like a raccoon on crack just to get noticed.
Or maybe... maybe Alex heard everything and just let him stew in the downpour for a few extra seconds. You know—for science.
When Rae finally burst into the tent, soaked and muttering curses in four dialects, he flung off the extra weight of rain with dramatic towel pats that could've passed for exorcisms.
Meanwhile, Alex blinked from his bedroll, watching like he'd seen a ghost—or at least a gremlin who should be one by now.
Honestly, he hadn't expected the little bastard to survive. Not after Lyra got her hands on him.
Alex tilted his head, eyebrows up.
