The dull gray sky stretched across the top of the trees, clouding the area. She looked up, seeing the small drops of water start to fall, and sighed. It was November 1st, the Day of the Rain. The one day of the month that the people watched the water fall from the sky, and also the day she just so happened to run away. But it was necessary. She was sick and tired of her former home, having been pushed around and told to do everything exactly and precisely. It was part of her much-needed training, they said, for when she moved up and took her stand.

  The young woman wrapped the cloak around herself and looked down at her tattered dress. She hated it and everything else in her wardrobe. She hated the dresses, the fancy jewelry, the bright cream colors. She preferred darker things; jeans, t-shirts, sneakers and boots, dark colors. The things lost to the higher people, the things only commoners wore.

  She wished to be someone ordinary, someone of the people, but that's not the way her destiny was planned out for her. She had to be at the top, with all the other stuck-up, selfish, rich people. She was a kind soul and an emotional person. The last thing she wanted to do was live with a bunch of snobs.

  Suddenly, the air was filled was the sound of alarms. The woman's heart skipped a beat as she dove into the nearest set of undergrowth. For once, she was glad the trees were as tall as they were, giving her shelter from the now-approaching search lights.

  "Thank Jefferson," she muttered under her breath.

  She sat there, under the clouds, feeling the rain tap tap on the forest floor.