Today, Rarity was watching the sheets of rain wisk across the forest. Rarity closed her eyes and felt the subtle spray of mist on her face. Rarity knew not to sit like that for too long, lest she catch her death of cold; but it was already cold and dark inside the cave, so to her it didn't matter. Rarity didn't feel like running her magic just to have light inside the cave, not only that, but Atchmon was starting to smell unpleasant. His depression was starting to affect her as well.