A Northern Downpour in The Hundred Acre Woods.

To anyone passing by, he was just a normal child. For there he sat, criss-crossed on the outskirts of the forest, where shades of green painted the leaves, and the blue birds whistled tales of love. The day was just meeting the night, the sky a golden silk. His blue jeans were frayed and faded, but he hadn't noticed, for his mind was not in this world, but a world of his own. A world where the wind carried songs, and if you listen long enough, maybe you'll hear them too. But in that moment, Brendon was alone in that world. Alone, except for his friends, who sat tentatively next to him. A honey colored bear, a small pig, a striped tiger, a golden fleeced rabbit, a mother kangaroo with her son, a wise old owl, and a sour donkey. Some would say these misfits were pretty odd, and they would be correct. For most, the company of these creatures wouldn't be enough. But to Brendon, he had the world. And that was enough for him.