The remaining sunlight shines in his purple eyes, making them appear muddy, yet at the same time beautifully patterned – much like a puddle of car oil mixed in water. Walking slowly, his eye twitches as he looks over at the houses.

“Ugh. Humans…” he shudders.

               Thunder rumbles and he twitches again and stops momentarily to look up at the sky icily. As if nature were smacking him for looking up her skirt, a raindrop falls into his eye. He hisses out insults in his native language, not known to any mortals as he furiously rubs his eye.

Pulling his hood over his head tighter, he continues to walk, gripping at the lining of his cloak to prevent it from flapping around too much in the sudden gust of wind. As the rain pours harder, he bends over slightly from both the pelting, and from the accumulating weight of his now-soaked cloak.

He is relieved that humans don’t like to be outside when it’s raining. He couldn’t bear to be near any right now. Somehow, it seemed, the rain made scent of grass and trees heavier – even in the suburbs it smelled wild. Unfortunately, the rain also made stench of people much more potent – and it made his stomach turn.