Timmy's feet were moving quickly beneath him. He was not as careful as he should have been, but it didn't matter; the trickling in the leaves was growing louder, and he was sure he felt a few drops of water against his skin. Soon, it would be raining. And he knew, even if only on a primal level, to hide it out.

He didn't leave the path, though. He was a bright kid, and he had no intentions of getting lost in the woods all over again. Instead, he continued to scamper along the path while keeping an eye out for anything nearby that might serve as a shelter while the worst of the storm passes. And while Timmy didn't notice (nor would he thought anything of it, even if he did), the owls and the insects had quieted down quite a bit. They had already taken shelter. They were ready.

Unbeknownst to him, it was the calm before the storm.

What happened next was an awful, unnatural thing. The rain started coming down hard, drowning out the song of the night with its all-consuming white noise. Any six year-old boy would like nothing more than to dance and sing in the rain, protected by a rubber coat and matching boots to explore all the wonders it had to offer. He should find a puddle and jump into it, laughing as the drops tickle his face. He might, if he were the more rebellious type, even want to find some mud and decorate his face with it.

Timmy wanted to do all of those things. However, he had to push them down. His mom always told him he would get sick if he played in the rain without his coat. He didn't have one, so he had to run. He had to hide. And it stung with each step that he took.

Thankfully, he didn't have to wait long. A log, large enough by his standards, laid hollow a few paces off of his path. More relieved than happy, he smiled nonetheless, and crawled into his newfound shelter.

Mr. Easybreeze, now on all fours, joined him not moments after Timmy found a spot where he was comfortable. Timmy, clever as he was, had already taken off his blanket-cape off and had laid it down on the dirt. He was quite pleased with himself for the idea, though his mood diminished when Mr. Easybreeze shook himself off.

"Mr. Easybreeze, be careful!" Timmy said. "You're going to get my blanket all wet!"

Mr. Easybreeze, still forlorn for upsetting Timmy earlier, could only whimper in response.

Timmy felt a pang in his heart. He knew he shouldn't treat Mr. Easybreeze like this. It wasn't right. He wasn't a meanie like Leonard was sometimes. But why was he acting like this all of a sudden?

Timmy thought back to something that happened almost a year ago. He was just starting kindergarten, and it wasn't going well. It had only been a couple months since his dad passed away, and he still cried about it a couple times a day. His mother, as hard as she tried to comfort Timmy, was only of so much help when she was still grieving so much herself. And then, of course, was The Monster, which grew only more powerful as the days went on.

What's worse, the other children had grown distant from Timmy. He wasn't bullied by any means; the other children knew what had happened and were exceedingly kind to him. The teachers gave him extra consideration, giving him space and patience when his stormy emotions got the better of him. But he was different. He wasn't "Timmy" anymore. He was the kid who got extra consideration, who didn't get scolded when he misbehaved.

Sad as it is, few children want to be friends with the "different" one.

Then, one day, he came home inconsolable. It had been a whole day and not one person at school, teacher or student, had spoken to him. So when he got off the school bus and let himself in with the key under the mat, he sulked off to his room with wet cheeks, up the stairs and through the hallway where his blue-and-yellow-walled room awaited. When he entered, he dropped his backpack to the ground, ran to the corner of his room, and bawled. 

After some unknown length of time had passed, Timmy felt something nudging his foot, then heard panting nearby. He ignored it at first, too upset to be interrupted, but the nudging continued every so often until Timmy looked up. When he did, he saw Mr. Easybreeze, smiling and panting with his tongue out. And at Timmy's feet was his gift.

It was a bowl; Mr. Easybreeze's water bowl, to be exact. It was the only item in the world that Mr. Easybreeze owned. He had given it to Timmy as a gift, to make him feel better on his bad day. And it made Timmy's heart easy with joy.

Unable to be upset any longer, he got up and hugged Mr. Easybreeze around the neck. And all was right in the-

"Timmy?"

Snapping out of his trance, Timmy looked at Mr. Easybreeze, still beside him in the damp log.

"The rain's stopped," Mr. Easybreeze said, pointing to the opening in the shelter behind Timmy. "We should keep going."

Timmy nodded in agreement, and off they went.