It was raining heavily in the streets of Raven’s Hollow.The large drops landed in loud tap, tap, taps against the stone sidewalk. The strong wind blew the droplets against Harper’s bare skin. She hadn’t bothered to grab a jacket on her way out as the storm had caught her by surprise. The hot summer heat had lingered into their autumn season, putting their little town into a draught. So Harper was caught it only a thin, off-the-shoulder sweater and cut-off shorts, but she didn’t mind. She loved feeling the rain on her skin. She did at least have the sense to grab an umbrella, though that was more for the benefit of her companions than herself.
The dogs were large, but lean and gangly. Clearly still in their puppy phase. They were sisters from the same litter though they could be clones of each other. Both were bleach white with dirt brown blobs splattered about; all in the same spots. There were only slight differences. The kind that could only be seen with the sharp eye of a constant caregiver. A little more brown on the face of this one. A smidge more white on the butt of that one. Otherwise identical even down to the black spots on the skin of their paws. One per knuckle and a war of pink and black on their pads. The pups
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It sat in the corner and far back from the street just three blocks from Main Street, or Whiskey Lane as the locals called it because “you need a shit ton of something strong to get through all the bullshit tourist festivals” that happened almost monthly. Just last week the Mayor held the first “Cinnamon Festival” and it had nothing to do with the spice. Cinnaman was a very fat, yellow tabby cat that just reached its sixteenth birthday, officially making him the oldest cat in town. Naturally the town needed a week to celebrate the furry devil’s “will to live”, or so said the banners. The tourist loved every minute of that damn