Rastaban stood in the mouth of the cave, shivering, dripping wet.
“I can’t do it - you’re faster than me!”
Shanka crossed her arms over her chest. “Because I practiced.” She pointed. “Make a fire and dry yourself off.” She stepped around him and shrugged off the makeshift raincoat of leaves she’d fashioned earlier. “You’d better be at my side before the moon reaches the Sky Hunter’s Belt.” And she sped into the rain.
Rastaban, dripping wet again, found Shanka standing beneath and outcropping of rock, completely dry despite the torrents from the sky.
“How can you run between raindrops?”
“Practice.”
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