A blustering storm howling against a clear blue sky, the clouds bright and colorful as if to taunt those beneath with their deliberate contrast. The winds were fierce, on my whiskers it stung with the flicking specks of sand, and in my ears they strained the muscle. So much harder to hear, made yet more awkward by its insistent grabs for attention, billowing my hair hard to the left no matter which way I pivot them. I kept my eyes closed and simply breathed. The scents of apples and roses from far away, too far to bothering looking. I could smell a river and trees, the swampy mire of a bog nearby. Mold and decay, a fallen tree and all the glorious insects who might rest inside it. Fox and cougar, there were mountain lions moving in from the rocky peaks.

So warm despite the breeze that threatened to knock me off my feet, and absolutely no sign of rain anywhere via sight or smell or the twinge of my whiskers. What could this mark …

Why was the sky acting to strongly, so suddenly, for no obvious reason …

I kept my eyes closed and sniffed some more. Outside huddle tight and hide within the safety of my burrow, that was all I could do.