A sleek and well-groomed dog hid behind a rubbish can, her eyes sparkling, gazing at the passing humans. She lifted her tail and stared at four tiny puppies, little, weak wings on their backs. Although she had no wings, her puppies, shortly after birth, developed a pair of wings. A human skipped by, and stopped to trespass. "Pup —" The human was pulled away quickly, almost jerked.
The dog, or Sky, lay down and heaved a sigh. She'd gone through a lot to keep her puppies safe, yet she felt as if they were exposed and unsafe everywhere she went. The thinnest, smallest one let out a wail. It's fur was cold like the air in autumn. Sky buried the puppy under her fur, and allowed her to nurse. The strongest puppies slept peacefully on Sky's side, which was all of the puppies aside from the weakling. Sky decided to name her sons Thunderstorm and Snowstorm, and the tiny female Rainstorm. Sky believed in all of them. They'd soon fly high, and she could watch them snatch mice up from the ground.
A few months later, Sky's puppies were mischievous. Surprisingly, especially Rainstorm.
