The journey was about to begin, and everyone was dripping with the rain.
"What a wonderful way to start the journey," commented Boldevier, "And we all know the rain won't stop for days. It is that time of the season...."
"Yes, yes, but that's not going to stop us is it?" asked Dorian. "I mean, if we can't take a bit of rain, then we jolly well can't take anything.."
"I agree with Dorian," Adrianne said in a small voice.
Frank, who had just finished packing Pegasus, sighed.
"The rain is a nuisance, but there's nothing we can do about it. If Jazira and I are to ever be married, then we must start off today. Where's my navigator?"
"At your service captain," yelled Diedan from across path. He was dressed in a ridiculous gray poncho, loaned to him by Dorian who had gotten it on her last trip to America. To Frank, he looked like a stork losing all it's feathers.
"We're ready...." Frank mounted Pegasus, and waited as Jazira and the others found their horses as well.
"Ready....."
"Ready....."
"Ready...."
"Good God, can't we just...."
"Ready....."
"Let's get out of here...."
And they were off.
Riding at a trot for about two hours with the heavy droplets of rain soaking through every piece of garment they owned, the travelers were becoming less and less happy.
"I do declare, I would have brought something a bit more suitable if I knew we were destined for such bad weather..." complained Dorian, who was having a terrible time of keeping her saddle from sliding off her fat horse.
"Maybe you wouldn't have worn such a see-through dress, there either, eh?" teased Likerbein.
Frank was wet and cold, and doubted almost certainly that even if they did find a place to settle down, they would be feeling better.
"Let's have a race," said Mud, who was traveling last in the line, "Maybe it would take our minds off of all this...slush."
For that was what the sand had turned into. Mounds of slush. Like anthills drowned in water from a child's bucket.
"Yes, a race, then," answered Adrianne, who never passed up a chance to try and beat her brother at something.
Frank stopped and watched as his friends and fiancé made themselves into a horizontal line.
"Frank are you not joining us?" asked Likerbein, ready to beat Hopkins at his own game.
"I suppose I must, considering you pack of fools wouldn't be able to get 'long without me."
He added himself to the line.
Boldevier started the countdown. "On your mark, get set....." and he shot off, three paces in front of everyone. Frank laughed, shook his head, and started off. The race had begun.