Droplets// [Ayatolla Jones]

Bare feet hit the dry ground, my shoes swinging from hooked fingers. The rough dirt roads of District Eleven didn't bother me in the least. They were my trails to hike back and forth on. No one appreciates them like I do. They see them merely as paths to their destinations, they rarely see the destinations they already are. Like along the fence by the Walter farm is a rabbit hole and if you're patient (which I'm not always) you can see them poke their heads out. They had another litter of babies in the spring so you can see the little ones fumbling in the grass. I tried to take one to give to Aster for her birthday but I couldn't bring myself to separate it from its family. Even if they weren't the best rabbit family it'd be cruel to tear them away.

Aimlessly, I walk down the road examining the fields as I pass by. Nettle and Aster are in school and, admittedly, I should be too but I just was not feeling like it today. The sky is too pretty today to be stuck in the schoolhouse learning about the growing cycles of oranges. After the thrilling week of cabbage I thought I'd take a break. There is a curve up ahead where the vineyards interrupt the smooth straight lines of the crop fields when I feel the first droplet. A tiny bit of water landing on my shoulder. Then another, and another. There's a handful of miles from the Ainsworth stead and the square and I'm in the middle of it. More and more drops hit the dirt, turning it's light brown color into a deep muddy color bit by bit. It's not raining that hard, right? I can turn back and be home without getting too soaked. Pa will be sore if I come home when I should be at school and Grandie with be even worse if I get a cold. I swear that woman wouldn't want to spend money on anything- even if one of us was on the verge of death and spending a single coin would keep us alive. So, naturally, she would be opposed to caring for my ungrateful butt even if I did catch a bad case of the sniffles.

Instead, I try to push forward to the square hoping no shopkeeper would force me to stand out in the rain instead of in their shop. However you never know with those merchants. They don't tend to like farmers or their kids- especially when those kids are wild-haired, bare-foot, smart mouthed girls named Amaryllis Ainsworth. I start to job down the road when a heavier drop lands in my eye. I have to stop and shake it out and by the time I can see again the rain is coming down heavier. Without even a jacket to keep the water off I plow through the rain, my feet slowing down as the hard packed dirt beneath me turns into slippery mud. I'm still set on reaching the square until a bolt of lighting flashes through the sky and the roll of thunder that follows is so loud it rattles my bones around.

To my right are just fields, but to my left, down a little ways, is a house and a barn. I dart towards it, just as I reach the little path from the road to their house I slip and fall forward. I manage to catch myself with my hands but now both my shins and my hands are covered in mud and the rain is coming down harder than ever. I doubt anyone would let a drenched farm rat in their home so I run for their barn instead. The doors are heavy but I open one just enough to slip inside. It's dark and stuffy and has that unmistakable heavy barn scent but it's keeping me dry... well it isn't getting me any wetter.

Peeking through a knot hole, I examine the farmhouse. I wonder if I got by unseen, and even if I did, how am I getting out?