Celeste ran along the edge of the stone foundation, hurrying beneath an arching tunnel of azalea and camellia bushes. At the corner of the pen she arrived at last at the dogwood, branching low to the ground and easily climbed. Not too high, but at the ends of the branches, she saw red and green berries.

Up she went, nimbly scrambling along a branch until she came to ripening clusters of the dogwood fruit. Immediately she began nibbling off berries and stowing them in her basket.

Suddenly the thunder stopped rumbling and started crackling.

“Chew! Chew faster!” Celeste said to herself. Her jaw began to ache. By the time she had just a small bit of room left in her basket, the first drops of rain began to fall. Each as big as her ear, the drops fell from the black sky like spears. They pummeled her, nearly knocking her off the branch, nearly blinding her. Others struck her back and shoulders, drenching her fur. Then, with an eerie roar, the wind picked up and tossed the treetops.

The leaves around Celeste were flattened and beaten as the rain increased. Drops slashed at her face. Rivulets ran down the tree trunk and then gathered into streams and waterfalls.

What had been low rumbles of thunder churned into waves of crackling fury as lightning flashed in the sky. Trickles of rainwater on the ground quickly became streams, then torrents, turning reddish brown with clay.

A crash of lightning hit so close by it seemed inches away, shaking and rattling windows of the house, and Celeste screamed in terror. In the brilliant flashes she could see rivers of water everywhere and a tangle of wet, flapping leaves. Disoriented and terrified, she floundered through the chaos, trying to find her way back down the branch.

The wind increased even more, rocking the tree and buffeting Celeste back and forth, rattling the roof of the barn, and blowing bits of leaves and debris into the sky like gunshot.

A particularly furious gust of wind whipped the branches of the small tree, and Celeste struggled to hang on. The basket of berries was ripped from her, and it flew away, lost in the swirling maelstrom. And then she finally lost her grip and was blown from the branch, out into the dark blast.

A moment later she was plunging into a whirlpool of brown-red water, leaves, sticks, and other debris. She kicked furiously and came to the surface, squeaking helplessly. The fast current grabbed her; and she bobbed up and down, gasping for air, paddling with her front paws and kicking with her hind feet. A large piece of bark struck her; and she clutched at it, throwing her body over it, clinging desperately. Heavy rain slashed and slammed into her face; and she choked and coughed on water and mud.

The road leading to the plantation had become a small but raging creek; and by the lightning flashes Celeste was terrified to see that she was being carried away from the lights of the house and out into the darkness.

She was chilled to her core and starting to shake.

The current got stronger. Water gushed in a torrent that carried off the little bark raft with Celeste, numb with cold, clinging to it.

After riding through a series of rapids and strong currents, the raft bumped into a muddy bank and slowed, then drifted against a sandy shoal and stopped. The heavy rain had stopped and was followed by a cold drizzle. Celeste’s coat was soaked and caked with mud and sand. She shivered with uncontrollable spasms. All her strength was spent. As her mind turned to darkness, she sank into a deep sleep, her cold body wet and sagging over the curled piece of sycamore bark.