[html] Sorry for the delay! And a first shift would be great 
500+
It seemed that Gotham's childhood was filled with rain. The summer had been a wet one, though the boy didn't have any other summers to compare it to, and it looked like autumn was going to be wet as well. He didn't mind it at all, though, and rather liked the memories it brought back. The rain monsters, though their presence was now little more than a game to him, had tormented the pup and his sisters so frequently! He thought of them fondly, of the time his sisters felt worried, of the times he felt he could console them. They were growing up more quickly than they knew it. The boy's curiosity was budding into a world of wonder, where each little thing had its own magic. It seemed that the world was swelling, the increased amount of ground the pup could put beneath his paws giving him wider access to each mystery, in the process digging up more. There would never be a point where he could satisfy his curiosity, each adventure giving him a taste for more, a craving for even further adventure. Crimson Dreams would always be home, though, and though the lands were familiar they managed to hold some other kind of charm. Perhaps it was the memories of exploration, the memories of finding things for the first time. It was also feelings of companionship and camaraderie, a feeling that was indescribable and could only really be described by home.
As the rain dripped across his face, Gotham trotted cheerfully, his eyes turned up to the gray sky as if they were in conversation. The water - or rain monsters, as he would have said if his sisters were around - clung to his dark fur. The short puppy hair was starting to be overgrown by his longer adult coat, wavy and streaked with deep chestnut browns and midnight blacks. Time was moving quickly, indeed, and it felt as if it was yesterday that he had taken that trip to the beach with his sisters and Mati, only yesterday that he had seen for himself that a caterpillar really could become a butterfly. The pups were all so much more independent now. Though they still saw each other frequently, sometimes the boy missed the times they had played constantly, splashing in puddles or exploring strange places.
The boy missed his mother sometimes, too, missed the days when he was small enough to be carried everywhere with her. He was pleased when he saw her sitting by the lake, and forgetting his conversation with the sky he hurried towards her. Though he could not see her face, as he drew close it seemed evident that she was not the happiest she could be. It was a gut feeling, a suspicion that he seemed to draw from some sort of aura. He moved close to her side, looking up to her and giving her a quick lick on the cheek. "Hi," he said with a gentle wag of his tail, and leaned the side of his head on his mother's shoulder.
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