Simon cursed his luck. Someone was pissing off the higher powers the night he parked several blocks away from class. He remembered storms like this, though it might not have been his actual memory.none of his memories, except the times in ancient Egypt, ever remembered seeing the cause of such storms, but he knew them for what they were.
He had his backpack slung over his shoulder, leaving one hand to cup over his burning cigarette, the other to clutch desperately to an umbrella. His long black navy issue trench coat fluttered in the wind despite being drenched from the waist down. With the hood up, he almost missed the movement ahead of him.
He froze a moment in the shadows of a doorway, watching as the pritty winged girl hobbled off the road. Memories clashed with modern thought as he considered his actions. This could be a trap, someone could still be following her, or the humans could see her. Either way, he waited a moment longer. If she was luring him, she would check if he did not follow, if she was followed, he would see her stalkers, or be attacked himself.