The thundering that Damascus had caused led into a heavy rain. The dark forest was now darker than before. The small old hut he was in was enough to protect himself against the drizzle that he caused.
Damascus leaned against the window frame and watched how the drops of rain pour against the surface of the waters in the pond. It was still day but because of the dark thick cloud covering the sky, it was as if it was already night.
This was the kind of atmosphere that Damascus likes. He has always been a fan of the dark. The pouring rain and the scent of the earth during these kinds of times gave him an incredible amount of comfort.
But just as Damascus was about to get sinked into his thoughts, the alive ball of dirt suddenly bit the cloth of his bottom clothing, gaining his attention.
