"Jonah, do my eyes deceive me or is that rain?"
Atticus frowned, raising his hands a little. The small droplets of water fell into his open palm, cool against the warmth of his skin. He tapped into the use of his sunstone, activating the crystal to keep himself dry. Most of the water droplets would simply evaporate before it even had the chance to touch a hair on Atticus's body.
"That's odd," Jonah commented, his eyebrows tightly knit together as he examined the skies. The clouds, adorned in shades of silver and gray, hung low as if they were gently brushing the world beneath with misty fingertips. "It's not supposed to rain today. That wasn't in the forecast."
