Little Miss Molly Thatcher made her way an old brick walkway, whistling a little as she walked. The sky was a bright blue, cloudless and the sun was glowing warm above her. There was a gentle breeze which shook a few leaves free of the nearby trees, sending them flying into the distance. She sighed happily as she walked along, art bag slung over one shoulder, a folded up easel tucked under her right arm. Molly followed the path farther and farther, until she could no longer see any traces of the town she had just left. After being quite sure she was perfectly alone, the young artist unfolded her easel, and began rummaging through her supply bag. A few minutes later, she was well on her way, a scene similar to the one she stood in herself had begun to appear on her canvas.

An hour or so later, she set down her brush, content to take a small break. Wiping her hands off on her smock, she then grabbed a normal looking pencil from her bag, held it up in the air, and quickly sketched a small cup, which she grasped lightly in her hand. With her free arm, she rubbed some pure blue paint on her brush, and brushed a blob of blue paint above the glass. Instantly, the paint turned to water, and fell into the cup. Smiling, she took a sip, and sat down on the soft grass, taking in a little sun and relaxation.

She didn't notice the soft pitter-patter of paws across the field behind her.

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By Sugarpoultry!

Don't just wake up, greet the sun.