Kuto’s life no. 982

Kuto awoke to the sound of distant thunder. He groaned and sat up, rubbing his eyes with one hand. It was still dark outside, but he could see the faint outline of trees against the sky. A storm was coming.

He got to his feet and stretched, then made his way over to where his pack was lying. He fished out a clean t-shirt and pulled it on over his head, then shouldered his pack and set off down the path.

The storm caught up to him about an hour later, as he was crossing a open field. Raindrops started falling heavily from the sky, drenching him in seconds. Kuto cursed under his breath and quickened his pace, but it did little good; by the time he reached shelter under a tree he was soaked through to the skin.

He leaned against the tree trunk and closed his eyes, listening to rain patter down around him like countless footsteps on dry leaves . . .