It has been a rough couple of days.

First there was the thunderstorm, which, sure, those happen. He battened down the chicken coop and made sure the dogs would be cozy in their mobile den, and then holed up himself to wait it out with his favorite one.

Then there was the forest fire. He's not sure where it came from; he didn't notice it until it was way too close, and all he could do was convert part of his house to an airship and get out, retreating above the clouds to wait for it to die down.

And then the crows found him. He of course wasn't going to begrudge them space on the ship, given the situation, and it's not without a silver lining - it's much safer to send a crow to see if it's all clear below than to take the whole ship down - but it's a small ship to have several dozen bored, squabbling birds on it, and his patience is wearing thin.

The latest bird is back, though, and reporting that it's safe to go down. She thinks something's wrong with the forest, but of course there is, a fire just came through. He adjusts the ballast and takes them down, his self-warming clothing helping to offset the damp of the cloudbank, until the ship breaks free of the fog and he can have a look at the damage himself.