He stands in the rain at nighttime; his matted hair falls in wet locks around him, and he stares up at the cloudy black sky, feeling as though the heavens are weeping with him. Saltwater tears mixed with rainwater are streaming down his cheeks from his aqua blue, slanted eyes, etching pain all over his face. The grass is wet and mushy underneath his cloven feet, and the wind is not comforting but painful, piercing his flesh like a thousand knives. The trees shake accusatory fingers at the crying sky, and the Faun shivers with cold, wet sadness.
"Faun? What are you doing out here?"
Her voice is as gentle and strong as the breeze, and he whirls around, startled. She stands there, her hair wet underneath the pattering tattoo of rain, her dress emerald green and almost soaked. The Faun wonders if she was standing there watching him, and for how long. He clears his throat to rid his voice of the tears that clogged it.
"Princess, you're going to be soaked..." but he stops himself. She already is soaked. "Go back inside before you catch your death," he adds.
"That's not important, dear Faun," she says softly. His heart flutters hopefully. She'd called him 'dear'? "I need to speak with you."
"Princess, can it wait until the world is drier?" the Faun asks her. He doesn't want her to see him like this; he wants her to speak with him when he is full of joy and goodness. He sighs inwardly. He never has joy or goodness anymore.
"No, this cannot wait," Moanna replies. "For if I wait until tomorrow, you'll find some excuse to wait even longer. I cannot have that." She pauses. The Faun does not reply. Moanna goes on, "We are friends, right? Best friends?"
What little hope that was in the Faun's heart fades away when she says this. "Yes, of course, my Princess," he says instantly, trying to keep the sorrow from his wavering words. "For as long as we both live, we're friends."
Moanna studies him for a long moment, and then sighs in a resigned way. "All right," she says. "I suppose I am satisfied...for now."
She walks back inside, and the Faun is left behind, confused and sad. His tears have stopped falling, but the rain still has not let up. He turns back to the sky, and wishes for the tears to fall again, so that he can know he is real. But they do not come. He simply gazes up into the sky, sorrowful and lost, rainwater falling into his uncrying eyes.