Disclaimer: I do not own Wuthering Heights.
The gray sky and clouds loom overhead casting horrid shadows across the rugged landscape of the Yorkshire moors. The wind whips all around the place, causing all to the plant life to make a rustling sound. The fabric of a cloak rustling along with the foliage joins the symphony.
Two figures romp about, running over hill and dale. They laugh, although occasionally their voices rise up in an argument or a rebuke, but they manage to get over their differences after a quick, five-minute hissy fit. As the two children wander the moors, they know not that a storm is brewing.
Fin
A/N: I know it's extremely short. Please R&R anyway!