Introduction

 

March 21, Spring Breeze, Dreamland. . .

 

One dazzling spring morning, in the little region of Spring Breeze, Dreamland, seven puppies were born to Springtime and Showerstorm. The wind rushing through the open window, stirring the pink-edged curtains, seemed to whisper a silent promise of hope and rescue. The rose petals quivered in the breezes and the insects buzzed noisily.

Springtime, her radiant, emerald-colored eyes shining as brightly as the morning sun, cleaned each wriggling newborn with tender devotion and love, nudging them gently with her nose as they uttered tiny whimpering noises and shoved each other aside to be the first to nurse from her.

Showerstorm, the proud father, beamed at his lovely children and his alluring wife. “Well, dear, you did it!” he declared, his voice ringing out clear and strong as a church bell. “Seven puppies!”

Springtime nodded, smiling. “Five boys and two girls,” she confirmed. “But now,” she added, her voice thoughtful, “what should we name them?”

Showerstorm knit his brow. “Ah. . .well, I assumed you had already thought of names before they were born,” he confessed, glancing at the trembling babies.

Springtime bit her lip and shook her head. “No. I guess I was so excited at the thought of having puppies that I forgot to think of names for them until now.”

“Then we’ll brainstorm and use our lively imaginations to come up with really creative and unusual names for them!” retorted Showerstorm, tossing his head, his brown eyes filled with determination. Springtime had to smile at the look on his face.

“Okay,” she said agreeably. “I think the oldest should be. . .” She glanced down at the eldest child, a boy, as he fought his sisters and brothers to get milk. He seems so fiery and stubborn, she thought, watching him bump one of his brothers out of the way to eagerly guzzle down his share of milk. He likes to push the others around.

And then the perfect name came to mind. “His name shall be Sniper,” Springtime announced with certainty.

Showerstorm gazed down at Sniper for a minute, then burst into peals of laughter. “That’s the right name for him!” he chuckled. “What about the other boys?”

It took a few minutes to think of names for Sniper’s brothers, but in the end, Springtime managed to name them all. “The other boys—from the eldest to the youngest—will be named Sharkell, Yodi, Pancake, and Waffle.” She looked up at her husband. “Sound good?”

“It’s fantastic,” he assured her. “Now for the girls.”

The second-to-last puppy was a beautiful gray-and-white Siberian like Springtime’s sister, Summer. There was some debate about her. Springtime wanted to name her after Summer’s favorite flower, but Showerstorm wanted to name her after an object in space, such as a star or a galaxy. In the end, they decided to blend both of their ideas together and named her Azalea-Star, but they agreed to call her Star for short.

Springtime then turned her attention to the final puppy, a calmhearted black-and-white Malamute like herself. This one wasn’t fighting to get milk like the others but was instead patiently waiting her turn. Springtime has to smile at how calm and composed the child was, unlike the other high-strung puppies. “To be honest, I’m stuck on this little girl,” Springtime admitted. “I can’t think of a proper name for her.”

“Oreo?” Showerstorm suggested.

Springtime’s eyes widened. “No way!” she objected. “That’s a terrible name.”

Showerstorm smothered a giggle, yet tried to feign seriousness. “Um, okay. How about Luna?”

Springtime vigorously shook her head. “Not Luna, either. It has to be absolutely perfect.”

“Why absolutely perfect?” Showerstorm asked.

Spriingtime never answered, for she was distracted by her youngest daughter. The puppy rolled over onto her back in an unbothered manner and yawned, and as she rolled, Springtime caught sight of something dark on the bottom of the puppy’s left-front paw. She bent down and peered more closely at it, and as she did, her breath caught, her eyes growing wide. It was a diamond mark surrounded by a circlet of ten tiny stars all merged together. Springtime gasped in amazement, breathless with surprise.

“What is it?” Showerstorm asked urgently, and Springtime pointed to the mark with her paw. Showerstorm’s eyes opened wide.

“Well, what do you know!” he exclaimed, his voice delighted.

“Showerstorm!” Springtime exclaimed. “Do you see? Do you see? This is the one! The Star Warrior we’ve been waiting for!”

“She’s the one who was prophesied to set Dreamland free from Nightmare’s grasp,” Showerstorm said wonderingly. “Quantum, ancient ruler of the universe and the forger of the sacred sword, Mercuria, prophesied that a child born with this mark would be the sole rescuer of Dreamland!”

“Amazing!”

“Truly astounding, my dear!”

“And now the prophecy has been fulfilled!”

“Not quite,” Showerstorm reminded his wife. “The prophecy is only fulfilled when Nightmare dies.”

Springtime’s eyes flashed with fear, but her face remained unmoved. “But how can you even kill Nightmare?” she inquired, her voice low.

Showerstorm cast a puzzled glance at his wife. “What do you mean?”

“Nightmare is what his name tells—he’s a living nightmare,” she explained. “Dreams are only what you see in your mind—mirages of the mind, I call them.” Her eyes clouded, her dark lashes reflecting the sunlight streaming through the window. “In truth, I don’t think you could ever get rid of him. That demon’s got a lot of tricks up his sleeve!”

“Nothing our daughter can’t handle,” Showerstorm replied, sounding as steady and certain as a stout tree in a hurricane.

“You’re acting like she’s invincible,” Springtime snapped.

“I didn’t say that, but I’m not going to say I doubt her abilities, either. I believe she can take him down—with God’s help, that is.” He paused, then continued, “And as for Nightmare being killed, I’m sure he can be. But it would have to take a certain weapon.”

“What weapon is that?”

“I’m not sure. Perhaps she’ll be the one to find out the answer. Then again,” he added with calm realism, “she may not. There are other Star Warriors out there. And remember, the prophecy did not explicitly state that she was going to be the one to kill Nightmare. It just said she would free Dreamland from his rule.”

“But how can she free the citizens of Dreamland without first getting rid of him?”

Showerstorm shook his head. “The prophecy doesn’t say how she’ll free Dreamland. Perhaps she might have a backup crew who will assist her in her mission, but she’ll be the main, uh, hero, if that makes sense.”

Springtime nodded. “That actually makes sense. Yes, maybe that is how it will happen.”

Showerstorm smiled. “But we got off track,” he gently reminded her. “We were trying to think of what to name our special little girl.”

One word rolled of the tip of Springtime’s tongue: “Cloudburst.”

Showerstorm froze, his smile slipping slightly. “Cloudburst?” he repeated.

“Yes,” Springtime said. “A cloudburst is a sudden violent rainstorm,” she explained.

“I know that,” replied Showerstorm. “But why name her after a rainstorm?”

Springtime placed a paw around her daughter’s body and drew her close. “As a cloudburst is unexpected and unstoppable, this little Star Warrior is so.” She looked out the open parlor window at the blue sky dotted with only a few clouds. “And just as a rainstorm can cause dramatic effects on the earth, this girl will change the world in a big way.”

Showerstorm couldn’t forget the brightness in his wife’s eyes or the gentle smile she wore. Her happiness was contagious, and he caught it too. “If you desire to name her Cloudburst, then do so. I’m perfectly fine with it.”

“But let’s call her Cloudy,” Springtime told him. He nodded in agreement and both laughed, though neither knew why.

Cloudy yawned again and began to nurse from her mother. Springtime looked down at her little twin and nosed her, and she could have sworn that a smile flashed across Cloudy’s face. The wind wandered gently around the perimeter of the house and the scent of the roses out front permeated the air with a sweet-smelling fragrance.