Dying breed (Five minutes freewrite)

Rain. Incessant rain. Some would say the skies opened up, but not Sol. As he peers at the gray army of evil looking clouds, there is no opening. Not one timid patch of blue to give him hope rain would ever let up. He’s heard stories of rainy seasons, back when stories were still told, but he had never imagined such misery. His precious plants drowning in sloshing mud and the leafed roof of his hut bending under the force of the rain. Even the skin he covered himself with is now drenched and smelling of rot. He wonders if he’ll ever see blue skies again.
He wishes there was someone he could talk to, but as it is he’ll have to go and ask the Stone Mother for help. Maybe he could move to Apy’s hut, which is still dry. Not for long, he’d never steal from his friend Apy. Only until the rain stops or Apy comes back. He’ll ask the Stone Mother’s permission and he’ll look into her eyes to read the answer.

His bare feet are caked in mud as he reaches the sacred place where the Stone Mother watches over their valley. He remembers the time when they talked of moving her closer to their settlement, but the elders ruled it out. They should not disturb the Stone Mother with their daily squabbles or the improper songs they sang at night by the fire. And anyway, the elders said, they wouldn’t even be up to the task. What was left of them was a miserable lot, not strong as the people of old, those who had dragged the Stone Mother over many miles so she’d know which tribe she’d have to protect.
Sol offers a silent blessing to the souls of those fiery ancestors as he enters the clearing and discovers the kindly Mother has provided for him again. Right there at her feet an offering of potatoes and fruit awaits him, carefully covered with big leaves, so the rain won’t rot them. She must have known he was coming today, she always does. Her eyes look sadder as she looks down upon him, her only remaining son. The corners of her mouth tell him it’s OK to move in Apy’s hut, but instead of relief, a pang of pain clutches at his stomach. What does the Mother know of Apy and the others? Will it be long before they are back? Are they coming back at all? It’s been months he’s been wrestling with the idea and he’s willed himself to believe the others have been trapped by flooding on the other side of the mountains. Or at least they’re hiding until it is safe to come back. Any answer is better than thinking he’s the last of a dying breed.

He hurries back to the village, his arms laden with the Stone Mother’s generous gifts. It’s a long road, made even longer by his feet slipping in the mud, but hurry he must. It will be dark soon and the glowies will be out to get him. Life was easy before the glowies.

(To be continued)

Story written for @mariannewest's freewrite challenge. Today's prompt was:breed!
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Images are my own.