Thunder Child
In the little mountain valley where I had camped overnight, the swirling madness of the storm eclipsed all. The thunder echoed off the mountain peaks and swirled into the valleys, bouncing and echoing as it came towards me and seeming to grow in intensity until it at last its full volume reached my ears, and then the whole world was noise. The lightning lit up a ferocious scene, trees whipping themselves to and fro as the winds tore at their branches ripping their leaves from their anchorage and swirling them into the storm laden night, and rain pelting down harder than I had ever before seen, turning the valley floor into a thick, clinging mud, and rapidly swelling the small stream nearby.
Thus was set the scene for the time of our first meeting.
As the ferocity and madness of the storm increased, the sky was torn asunder by the most vicious of lightning strikes, and suddenly, she was standing before me, framed in the light of the recent lightning strike, seeming to glow with the intensity of the storm.
She was the child of the thunder, the Thunder Child, wild and untamed as the mountain storm, and as beautiful as the valleys in summer. Her long, black hair whipped around her face, and the water ran from her deerskin clothes, as she stood chanting soft words, her hands orchestrating the majesty of the storm.
My heart stopped and quivered, then beat anew, faster and harder than it had ever beat before. I could feel it being drawn towards her, inch by inch, and I reached my hand towards her, a smile spreading over my face as the new feeling flowed through me.
With a tiny answering smile, her own hand reached for mine, sparks flickering around her fingertips as she did so, and waited for me as I crossed the slippery, muddy ground between us.
As my fingertips met hers, my knees bent and buckled as my veins seemed to fill with electricity, burning and throbbing their way to my heart. I would have fallen to the ground at her feet, but I was held upright by her gaze. Her large hazel eyes gazed deeply into my very soul, holding it, caressing it, and, as the rain swirled around us, she drew me to her lips.
As one, every hair on my body stood on end as my lips met hers, and tiny sparks crawled over my body. Tiny pinpricks of pain, or were they pleasure? I did not know, but I did not stop the kiss. It seemed that my lips were born only to be pressed to hers, and neither they nor I wanted the contact to ever end.
Not far from where we stood a massive oak tree split down the middle as it received a direct lightning strike, and burst into flames that burnt fiercely despite the pouring rain, and as the storm rapidly approached its crescendo, the scene was further lit by the flickering redness of its flames. The rain seemed to wrap so tightly around us that it was almost a cloak, and the roaring of the thunder was whispering secrets to me that I had never been able to hear before.
Then it was over and I lay sprawled, twitching in the mud, the storm had passed, and as I looked up from where I lay, I saw her disappearing in the distance, following the storm. Her hand reached towards mine one last time and I saw her mouth the words, "Again. Come to me again as the storm is at its height."
Now I too follow the storms, for the lightning is in my heart and my soul is filled with the Thunder Child. But I must leave you now, for a new storm is building, and there is someone I must meet. The Thunder Child awaits me.
