The Little Cloud Who Couldn't Rain

Previously

…With a final, warm pulse, the old sunbeam drifted away, leaving Nimbus bathed in its golden afterglow. Nimbus looked at his own fluffy form, no longer seeing a failure, but a canvas. A canvas waiting to be filled with laughter and delight. A gentle breeze stirred him, and he found himself instinctively shaping his mist, not into a heavy, rain-filled form, but into something light, playful, and full of promise. A smile, as soft and pale as his own mist, spread across his cloud-face. He couldn't rain, and maybe that was perfectly okay. Maybe, just maybe, he was meant to be something even more wonderful.