Raindrops keep falling on my head

The rain had been fun at first. Peter had come from a desert, where the rain had come in short, infrequent bursts. There, this would have been a godsend, a miracle so rare he would have spent the entire time in the rain. But here, the rain came often, and Peter had only stood in it one time before deciding it was as too cold, and too wet, and retreating indoors to avoid the damp every opportunity. This storm though, seemed intent on testing him, and it was winning. By the end of the first day Peter had reached his limit, and resolved to leave the next day, rain or not. After all, Maea was went out in rain or shine, and she seemed fine. That resolution was how Peter found himself outside now, his many layers clinging to him and making his walk more of a slog. He had been hoping that by following a forest path, he would somehow be kept drier. Apprently not. The meandering trail he was on seemed to double back on itself as often as it went forward. It felt like a wonder Peter reached anything at all, let alone the glade, but he was glad to see it. Peter would have been happy just to be in the glade itself, at least it was a place he knew somewhat, but he smiled brightly when he saw he wasn’t alone in the trees. Maea, and her sheep, had beaten him here. With the smile glued to his face, despite his drenched appearance, Peter came to stand beside her just as a sigh heaved from her. For a beat, Peter stood still, then all at once curled down into a crouch beside her, hisnknees ahaiant his chest and his face turned towards her, as if silently asking permission to speak. Peter try, try your whole life to be righteous and good