Mo wasn't feeling top of his game, and it wasn't the running and bouncing and dodging. It wasn't even the several times he'd been hit by the pendulum. Really, it was the nagging cold that he still hadn't rid himself of, and the way his ribs hurt from that last fall, and how he was now standing in several inches of water since the snow melted.

It was spring, at least, and the air smelled of flowers. His hair was standing on end, which reminded Mo of being out during a lightening storm, and he hoped fervently that he didn't develop a thunderstorm inside Molandia. Getting hit by private lightening bolt would be terrible.

He pushed onward, hoping that now that his orbit took him a bit closer to the sun, that the water around his feet would evaporate and his life would be SO much easier.

It seemed to work, and Mo rolled through a wave of heat that had him gasping for air. Merlin. Summer was brutal too. Why were seasons so UNPLEASANT?