The spring thunder stirs, sounding the alarm, awakening all things from slumber.
However.
The swallow's nest under the eaves returning north is empty.
Crows, orioles, turtledoves, and the ducks in the pond all start to call, mixing with the barking of neighborhood dogs and the hissing of wild cats.
Green moss clings to the corners of walls, quietly spreading. Few venture out in the rainy weather to drink tea, yet there are always one or two with refined tastes, enjoying this serene atmosphere of listening to the rain. The water in the teacups ripples outward in circles, and the copper wind chimes in the porch continuously ring.
It isn't the gentle pitter-patter of raindrops.
It's something more noisy, more chaotic, as if… the ground is trembling.
"Neigh…"
Lightning flashes, illuminating the streets.
The black horse raises its hooves, standing tall.
