Spring
The sky would be black if not for the lightning flashing amid stormy clouds. The rain had let up, but only by a little. Puddles pooled as the earth refused to soak up any more moisture. Mud was thick and squelched with even the lightest step. The rain didn't look like it was ready to leave anytime soon. The plains would likely flood.
Yuan Xuelan stepped toward Jin Juwan. He brought forth the Golden Rope that shimmered beneath the veil of rainfall.
"Hold out your wrists," He commanded. Behind Xuelan, Liu Sumeng's fingers clasped tightly around the hilt of his sword.
Jin Juwan's eyes were closed. He knelt like a statue, without even the slightest movement of his chest. Had even heard what Yuan Xuelan said?
Rainfall drowned out the wet sounds of Yuan Xuelan's steps. There was a moment of tranquility, of unspoken tension.