The constant banter of thunder and rain outside tortured the harpy, and though she may pray for it to desist, it would only be in vain. It was not unknown to him what the weather implied for his dear woman. The rain produced illusions and torment: a constant onslaught of hallucinations that never ceased to stimulate her overworked brain. Her other senses pick it up as well, the touch, the smell, the taste of the beings which haunt her, and the nightmare becomes a reality and a maddening rush to find a peace of mind. Many times before he had witnessed this change in her, observing the rain steel up the blue bird in an attempt to last through the terrible storm.
Every time he dedicated himself to be there to ensure her that she was safe, to ensure no harm fell to the woman when she was blind to the world, to ensure that she was not alone. He could see that his efforts were affecting her, and it made him persevere. With each coming of the rain, the normally strong woman sought and clung t