It had started to rain.

Calcifer loved the rain.

It was not quite the salt water that dried out her nose and paws, crisped the strands of fur behind her ears and filled her lungs with the scent of home. It did not remind her of days on the beach, the rhythmic push and pull of the tide on the shore or the sway of palm trees and coconuts in the breeze that all marked her birthland. But it was water, it always held the promise of a howling storm, it drenched her fur until she was nothing but a drowned shadow. And Calcifer loved it.

Judging the colour of the deep grey clouds on the horizon, it would not be long before the sky opened. The dragonling could feel it in the air, the crackle of electricity that preceded thunderstorms and a wicked, wild grin curled across her dark lips. She had explored many places now, with companions and without, but there was little that called to her like a howling thunderstorm to make her feel alive. Pushing aside thoughts of her scattered family, her lost friends, her obvious lack of crew, Calcifer made for higher ground.

By the time the pirate made it out into the open, it was pouring in earnest and the wind had picked up. As ever, the subtle sounds were lost to her, but the roll of the first wave of thunder pricked her ears and set alight her rosé gaze. Soon, lightening would crash across the sky and the symphony of the storm would surround her. Calcifer perched, tiny body precarious on a ledge of cliffside overlooking a deep rolling valley, tense and ready to welcome it.