Lightning flashed across the darkened sky. Rain fell heavily across the field, creating deep puddles and ravines that wound their way through the sodden flowers and short bushes. A few hundred kilometers to the south, the rain would have been appreciated, the crops dying from too little of the precious stuff.
The land of the Berber Duchy would love to share their abundance of water, but even if they could bottle the water and send it south, nobody would accept water from the cursed lands of Duke Berber. It was ridiculous, of course. The curse that drove him almost to madness with never ending pain and caused his magic to seep out into the world and call forth never ending rain would not affect anyone else, just as it didn't affect any of the people who toiled away in the swamped fields or traveled along the muddy roads.
Superstitions are hard to fight against, even when confronted with facts. So the water stayed to the north, and the droughts afflicted the south, and the two were separate issues caused by separate things, and nobody offered to help anyone else because it was a waste of time.
A small white rabbit with bright red eyes darted out from beneath the bush that had given it shelter for the last hour, intent on making it to it's home inside a large hollow tree at the edge of the clearing. During a quieter, more gentle drizzle earlier in the morning, it ventured out to find fresh grasses not submerged under water and was caught when the weather turned violent again.
Now it was tired, and the water was beginning to pool under its shelter, and all it wanted to do was make it to its nice and warm little burrow in the bark just meters away. It almost made it, a streak of white racing across the ground, dodging around puddles and across streams of water that would go above its head if it fell in. The constant deluge of water weighed it down, though, and just a breath before it entered safety the large and sharp teeth of a waiting wolf clamped down on the soft and wiggly body. A crack of bones and its flight was over. The she wolf carried her food back toward her den some distance away, cubs waiting back home for their daily meal.
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By afternoon, the rain slowed, the lightning no longer lighting up the sky in jagged flashes. Trees stilled, the wind dying down with the storm. Birds and small creatures that sheltered in the trees hesitantly moved out to find food while they could. The land stayed dark, sunlight not able to get through the thick cloud cover, but in the distance the sky looked lighter, so perhaps there might be a bit of sunshine peaking out sometime later. It would still be raining, though. It was always raining.
A flash of light, bright as lightning, lit up the center of the field, coming from the ground rather than the sky. Anxious wildlife waited to see what new danger lurked amongst them. A thick soled hiking boot appeared a meter off of the ground, followed by a body that shrieked as it found itself not on solid ground, but falling toward said ground. It was a short fall, however, and the shriek cut off almost as soon as it began, replaced by loud and very descriptive swearing.
A young woman of no more than twenty years sat on her rear end in a puddle, mud soaking into her clothing. The swearing stopped, and she pulled her knees to her chest, dropping her head to rest on them and wrapping her arms around them so that she looked like a large ball amongst the flowers. As the soft rain fell on her skin, and the woodland animals crept out to see what was going on, the sound of crying filled the air.