Paul thought for a fraction and then swerved, narrowly missing the rain as it came down in odd lines, latitudining the various forked paths / tongues that lined the route.
"Those gargoyles.... don't even look," whispered Sarah, both wheels spinning.
As far as he could see lungs appeared in the trees, hanging like bloated birds. On every leaf a miniature story of a world that neither of them could ever hope.
"Look at the rain!"
Paul looked harder and the rain was no longer in spears. The gravity had pulled another trick, making the teardrops into eyeshapes, into silver mercury balls.
One eye remaind unkind as Sarah pedalled furiously away towards the Thunderclaps.