A soft rumbling fills the skies as Isaiah looks up to watch a wave of clouds envelope the sun.

It would rain soon, Isaiah notes, as the skies turned gray and a chilly breeze sweeps through the park.

He had been walking around the park for hours now, exploring the paths and hiking through its forests.

As droplets of rain tap Isaiah on his head, finally beginning its drizzle, Isaiah hurries over to one of the rain shelters nearby. There was a bench and a table at the shelter, the kind he used to sit at in the cafeterias as a kid. So he decides to have a seat to wait out the rain.

As the drizzling transitioned into a gentle downpour, Isaiah notices a pond sitting just in front of him and the shelter. It was roughly the size of a children’s swimming pool and a quarter of its surface were covered in lily pads. Isaiah noticed movement under the lilypads too, and saw Koi-fishes, Catfishes and even turtles swimming beneath. It was as if they too, were seeking refuge from the rain.

Isaiah glances around him as the rain hammers against the shelter’s roof. It was quiet out, there was barely anyone around this evening.

Well, there was barely anyone who would ever make it this far into the park anyways, Isaiah quickly notes.

Most people come with their friends, their family or their significant others. They walk slowly on the paths to take in their surroundings and to spend their “quality” time with one another. They’d sit for picnics and pictures in the common areas of the park and then they’d leave, just after the sun had set.

Isaiah was of a different mind though. He had always favoured the exploration of the massive park instead. Journeying as deep as he could to discover regions that were new to him. Hoping to see new plants and new animals – well, they’d be new to him anyways.

He was an adventurer, he so believed, and he held that a picture was best appreciated, when it is taken in whole. This he probably learned from his father, he supposed.

That said, he continues scanning his surroundings, watching as the grass, the leaves, trees, and the bushes soaked in the rain. He remembers how much he enjoyed the colors the forest took on during this season, the season of Autumn.

From the vibrant mixtures of orange and yellow, to the contrast of red and green against different shades of brown. It always seemed as if all inhabiting life within the forest were putting on their finest looks, for one final showdown, before they bid the forest farewell. Before they returned to the soil which breathed them life, and Winter blanketed that very soil in white.

Isaiah continues to look around him, as he waits for the rain to clear. As he turns his head right, he notices a small frog roughly the size of his palm, sitting on the bench a few feet from him.

It had smooth green skin and large bulging black eyes. Its webbed feet and hands gently tucked beneath it as it stared out into the rain. At the pond which must’ve been its home.

“Seeking shelter from the rain too, Little One?” Isaiah playfully asks, taking his gaze back to the pond in front of them and then to the rain. “Welcome to the team,” he adds with a smile.

A moment passes before a voice replies:

“I was here first. But I suppose you could say that.”

Surprised, Isaiah swings to look behind him in search of the speaker.

Had he missed someone who had been in the area? He thinks to himself. How was that possible, he was sure he had seen no one nearby. Had they witnessed him talking to a frog? How embarassing!

But he saw no one. Not behind him, not beside him, not anywhere near. 

It was just him and the frog.

Must’ve been his imagination, he concludes. 

“Phew,” he breathes, turning back to the frog. “That would’ve been awkward, huh Little One?” , he jokes to the frog as he carries on staring at the rain.

“What would’ve been? And why do you keep calling me Little One? I’m not that little where I come from you know.”, the same voice replies once more, a hint of irritation present in their voice.

Isaiah’s eyes widen as his face pales in shock and horror. He slowly begins turning to the frog, who now innocently stared back at him, its head slightly tilted and eyes narrowed.

“E…ex…excuse me?” he answers with a shaky voice. 

“What? You heard me, stop calling me Little One. I am Raxa, guardian of this mighty pond you see before you.”, the frog replies casually and proudly, “I’ll allow no belittling of my position.” 

Isaiah was speechless. Surely he was dreaming. Perhaps he passed out in the rain and this was all just a swirling of his thoughts while he was unconscious. 

But too real, it had felt.

“Y…you talk?” Isaiah asks.

“Well you can hear and understand me, can you not?” Raxa replies. 

“This isn’t real.” Isaiah whispers insistently. 

“Plenty real to me, Human.” Raxa replies, annoyance seeping into his voice. 

Isaiah gathers himself. He concluded this was definitely a dream and there was no point being too shocked about it. He would wake up soon so, in the spirit of adventure, he might as well entertain this insane and illogical phenomenon of nature.

“If you are the pond’s guardian. What are you doing away from your pond then?” Isaiah asks curiously, waving a hand at the pond.

“As a guardian, my job is to overlook the pond. I can’t exactly do that if I’m in it, can I?” Raxa replies. “And besides, I don’t want to crowd the room beneath the lily pads when I can just sit out here. Admiring the beauty of my home.”

There was logic to that, Isaiah supposed, as he looks back at the pond to see the group of turtles and fish huddling beneath the lily pads together.

“What about you, Human?” Raxa asks, “What brings you this deep into the forest?” 

“Just exploring I suppose.” Isaiah answers, “I’m in search of new discoveries to grace my eyes and sate their curiosity for wonder,” he adds as he raises a fist in dramatic fashion.

“That is, until the rain decided to ruin things for me” Isaiah adds sourly.

A moment of silence falls between the human and the amphibian.

“You believe the rain a nuisance to your endeavours?” Raxa asks. 

“I guess, yeah.” 

“You believe the rain interrupter of your adventures?” 

“To the point, but yes.” 

“You interpret the rain’s coming as an inconvenience to your life?” 

“Less to the point, but I don’t disagree.” 

“Fascinating.” Raxa notes as the frog shifted its webbed limbs beneath it. “How naive an individual you must be then.” 

“Excuse me?” Isaiah scoffs. Had he just been insulted by a frog? 

“We, of the pond, believe the rain to be meaningful.” Raxa begins, “We see it as a sign that the skies have not forgotten us and as such bestow upon us its messenger.

We, of the guardians, believe the rain to be reminding. In it’s arrival we are offered a chance to step away from our post and appreciate that present moment. Whether it be from afar, or huddled up beside the ones we swore to protect.

We, of the forest, believe the rain to be our kindest and wisest of allies. For its presence not only breathes new life into our greenery, but it too teaches us that there is purpose, as there is peace, in stopping to take in the world around us.”

Raxa drifts off as he turns to Isaiah, who was surprised to find himself speechless from the frog’s words.

“After all, Isaiah, did the rain not get you to pause your exploration to finally look around you?” Raxa says with a smile.

Isaiah had just watched a frog smile.

He turns back to the forest as he notices the rain had slowed to a stop. He sees the sun above them pierce through the veil of gray as it illuminates the forest in its light.

The forest twinkled. Shining with life as the droplets of rain, left behind on the leaves and the grass, reflected the evening sun’s light. Swirling the world around them in a scene of orange, yellow, red and gold.

“It’s beautiful.” Isaiah whispers, awestruck by the view. “Truly magnificent.”

A realization suddenly crosses his mind as turns back to Raxa.

“Wait, how did you know my name?” Isaiah asks in surprise.

But the frog, much like rain, had already parted.

Isaiah looks back to the pond to find the inhabitants slowly scattering from out beneath the lily pads. Swimming about the pond once more.

Isaiah raises an arm and pinches it hard with his thumb and index finger.

He yelps in pain and lets go. 

Looking up, he takes in once more the breathtaking view his eyes now bore witness to.

A smile, spreading across his face.