Mittens pulls herself back up onto the land bridge on a beam of deep blue light, landing lightly on her feet with the softest of squelches from her sopping wet boots. She takes a hesitant step forward, and is surprised at how easy it is to move forward now that the wind is settled to a gentle breeze. She pauses and shivers, violently shaking droplets of water out of her hair, off of her ears, away from her tail. There's a chill still creeping into her bones, and the tickling winds playing with her clothes and her skin aren't doing her any favors at all. She should really get moving, now that the way is open.

Even still, she takes the time to look up and watch the Shadow-Roc vanish into the skies above. She sees the huge black glass feathers grow more and more indistinct as the last remnant of her nightmare rises up, up, up... and disappears into the clouds. Mittens is all alone. And still, she watches, shivers in the breeze, and gives herself a moment to catch her breath. 

Then a large raindrop splatters on her face, and she scrunches and squints and squeaks in surprise. Then there's another, and another, and another, until the sparse pattering becomes a drizzle, and then the drizzle becomes a new downpour. Thunder rumbles deeply overhead.

There are good storms. This is what they look like. 

The winds are gentle, and the water feels soft on her clothes and even softer on her skin. And, mmmmm, stars and lights, it's [i]warm[/i]. It soaks her all over again, warming her from the tips of her silly triangles to the bottoms of her dainty feet. There's a rumbling in her ears that's got nothing to do with thunder. If Eupheria demands she be a cat then fine, but she'll be an Illuminan one who purrs when she's stuck in a perfect summer storm. Ideal for dancing, and...

She glances down. Her white silk shirt is soaked through, clinging to her like second skin and putting her ridiculous paw-print bra on prominent display. And maybe it's relief or maybe it's just how silly an image this seems or maybe she's just lost it, but Mittens' purr chokes quickly into a giggle and then before she knows it she's laughing uproariously. The only reason she doesn't go tumbling straight back over the edge and into the bottomless swells below is the sudden appearance of a glowing purple length of fence for her to lean against, instead. 

This is the rain that floods the rivers in her home. This is the storm that calls all the little children out of their houses, homework and crafts forgotten, to go stomping through every puddle on the streets of the towns. This is the water that would go twisting, swirling, and singing through the great glass aqueducts to carry the gift of the storm to Rowan and reaffirms their friendship forever. This is the warmth that fills her soul until it overflows with hope.

Yes, with hope. Because this storm is Illumina, and this labyrinth is Eupheria. And if the two can coexist, it means she still remembers. Mittens stands up straight and reaches one hand toward the endless sky above her. She waves at what she imagines to be the shadow of one enormous wing. 

"Thank you..." she whispers, and steps peacefully through the rain toward her next room, and all of the people that she loves.