Avosa felt the storm before the clouds began to darken. It was something she was always able to do. Her mom, Kaja, said it was because she was gifted, but it was a secret she couldn't share with anyone, even if it was just a feeling. Her mother only feared it would be viewed as outlawed magic. But it didn't feel like magic. Not to Avosa, who didn't even know what magic really was. She only knew the air felt thick sometimes, and the clouds seemed to speak to her in ways she didn't really understand. Not in words either, but feelings. 

Like today, it brought her here, perched on the cliff face hanging over the Silver Sea to watch the clouds roll in again. She felt they had been warning her for weeks and that something was about to change. They swirled above her when she reached the top of her lookout, the highest point on her family's farm, about a fifty-foot drop to the rocky shore below. It grew dark, ominous and the storm seemed to tell her to run and hide, but what was there to escape? 

She stood defiant. All season, the storms had soaked the farm and the surrounding lands. They never seemed to let up, gave no mercy. When she and her parents went into town, everyone grumbled about the overcast skies and the thick muck it produced in their fields. Avosa even began having nightmares about slopping around in fields while tending to the sheep when suddenly faceless people took form from the wet mud and began chasing her. Storms that blasted her with torrential rain, pelleting her with pain, did nothing to the faceless, they held their form regardless, and never stopped searching for her. Even when she woke up, it still felt like they were on their way, pursuing from a distance.

The wind picked up and brought the scent of fresh clam in from the shore below as drizzle whipped against her face. For a moment, she forgot about her dreams. She stood up straight a little longer, just to defy the storm. It was telling her to go but she wanted to stay, to resist its urging, to prove she was stronger than it. 

She knew the Light spoke in mysterious ways, and the cliff was hers and hers alone, nothing would keep her from it. No one else came to watch the sky, or hear the wind, but the rest of her life on the farm was nothing out of the ordinary. 

Her dad mainly worked the fences to keep the wolves out, or tended to the crops. Her mother was always with the horses in the stable, or in the barn with the other animals. They kept goats for milk, and pheasants for their eggs. Avosa's duties fell to the sheep, and they loved this side of the farm with its cliff face. She didn't mind the wandering either, and sheering was never an easy process, but she managed. She and her mom made sweaters and blankets that were sold in town, along with her dad's ale. Sometimes, he'd make a trip to the trading post up in Dunne, but he never let her go. When she was older, he'd say, but her Nameday was next year and she'd never even left the Southern Plains. Was it too much to ask to see a real Knight at Arms, or a castle? She never understood his need to keep her so sheltered. She wanted to see cities and crowds, and all the things she heard about in the tales on Feast Days. Sometimes her dad cursed the town's festivals, but to Avosa, the storytellers filled both her imagination and her desires. 

Kaja would explain it was because of her gift, they were right to keep her away from everyone else. No talking to boys, which Avosa had never really cared about. It was always the girls she was drawn to in town, they were the ones she wanted to befriend. Her gift started to feel more like a curse. She was tired of only hearing the tales, seeing them in real life would be like a dream come true.

She swayed in a blast of wind, again felt the pull of the storm, and she squinted up into the sky as a flash of lightning hit the beach below. Too close for comfort. She waited for the thunder to rumble the ground beneath her feet, but it never came. Instead, the light continued dancing through the clouds and looked as though it was headed straight for her. It trickled and webbed, reaching out, almost close enough for her to touch it. It hovered in the air, deducing her movements. Every muscle urged her to flee. Still, she stood firm.

It began to pour.

She shrieked, but only had herself to blame. What else did she expect standing in a storm like that? She faintly heard her mother calling from down below in the stable, probably wondering the same thing. Lifting the hood of her woolen cloak she searched the sky again. The hovering lightening was gone.

Perplexed, she trudged back down the hilltop towards home, took a deep breath, inhaled the country air and tried to make sense of what she'd just seen. It could have been some sort of phenomena, the air thick with moisture, nothing to do with her. Her gift was in the air, wasn't it?

Plodding towards her family's log house, and past the sheep who had already begun making their way to the fold, she quickly checked in on both the tilled and sowed acres. The rain already threatened to kill off the sprouts, but the new trenches she dug earlier that week with her dad were working, the fields were safe from flooding once again.

As the clouds settled above the farm, darkness seeped in everywhere. The sound of the rain pounding down on the earth roared in her ears. Loud thunder now smacked after each flash in the sky. She made haste for the stable. No doubt to get an earful from her mother. She didn't see her but her torchlight carried through the rain as it beat down and soaked her through. 

"Afternoon, Avosa," Kaja greeted as she entered. 

"Hi, Mom," she returned, standing still and letting her cloak drip for a moment before realizing there was no use. She shook instead, and it was so soaked she knew she'd need help getting it off.  Kaja brushed down a golden-red beauty, Chariot, her favorite horse. Zola, who stood in her stall, already happy and fed, was the older black mare, who they'd had for over a decade. Chariot had been with them only a few years, but Avosa felt more affection for the light-footed steed. He seemed to like her too, always nudging for rides and extra scratches on the head. 

Avosa stood before her mother, drenched to the bone, and by the look on her mom's face, smelling of wet sheep. Pushing aside her long brown hair that had matted against her cheeks, she collected it and wrung it out like a wet clothe. 

"You know I don't like seeing you sopping wet. You're going to catch your death." Kaja warned and sighed as motioned to Avosa to come closer and give up the cloak. 

"I know, Mom." She went over to her mother and raised her arms. "I wanted to make sure the crops were safe. I can't make heads or tails of this rain though," she confessed as her mother helped pull the cloak over her head. 

Kaja lifted the cloak up in her hands and like Avosa, thought she could let it drip before dealing with it, but she just shook her head in slight disapproval. "Get inside and dry off. The sheep are fine and won't need the likes of you until this rain does let up." She waved her out, towards the back gate. She hung up the cloak by a small fire keeping the moisture out of the stables, then continued brushing Chariot.

"Ok. But it seems like the rain just keeps coming and coming." Avosa said, wiping the raindrops from her forehead. She glanced out towrds the sky, her blue eyes narrowing as the rain continued to fall steadily.  "The Cormorant must be thirsty. What is this, the fourth storm this week?"

"Aye. Rain is rain." Kaja rubbed Chariot's nose, wanting to avoid the subject. 

Avosa was reluctant to tell her what else had happened. Her father warned her once never to speak of the things she thought she felt in the storms. Not to him, not to anyone, even if she thought it was safe. But if she told anyone, it would be her mother. 

"It wasn't just the rain, Mom. I thought I saw..."

"You saw what? What did you see?" Kaja snapped back, feigning annoyance that her time with the horses was being interrupted, though it was her favorite thing to do, besides riding them.

Avosa, a bit startled at her mother's tone, could only shrug, but continued. "Just the lightning, it... it was nothing. I'll be inside." There was no sense bringing her fears to her mother. Rain is rain, right? She began to feel childish, why did she think the lightening had anything to do with her? It was nothing. She thought maybe her mind was playing tricks on her.

Yet Kaja stopped brushing the mare and called Avosa back over to her before she had a chance to leave the stable.  She took a deep breath and held it for a moment, like she was searching for the right words to say. Finally, she began, "You're getting older, Avosa, some things will come to light. Maybe not soon, and maybe not for a while, that's my hope. But don't doubt yourself, child, if you saw something, it's most likely because you did. You know we shouldn't talk of such things, the way you react to the storms, but you also must know there is a reason. The Light works in mysterious ways, even if the Elders refuse to believe it. You will always be our child, and no matter what happens, we'll support whatever it is you have to do."

"What do you think is going to happen, Mom?" The hairs rose on the back of her neck despite their wetness in a slight panic. 

"I don't know, sweetie." Kaja replied softly. "Maybe nothing." She absentmindedly began brushing through Avosa's long dark hair with her fingers as she clung to her hope.  "Maybe nothing will ever happen. I hope nothing does, and you stay with us forever."

"Mom, you know I have to grow up sooner or later," she said, moving her head to the side, trying to get her mother to look her in the eyes. "I'm going to see the world one day, I know that worries you, but this will always be the place I call my home." She gave her mother a comforting hug because it seemed like she needed it. Avosa wondered why she was so worried that her gift would bring her harm? What harm could come from simply listening to the storms? "I'm going to go dry off, mom." Avosa kissed her head and assured her, "don't worry, I don't plan on taking any trips until after my Nameday. And I was hoping you would come with me anyway." At least that made her mother smile.

Reluctantly, Avosa left Kaja with her thoughts. She still seemed worried, but what else could the girl say? Kaja worried about a lot of things, this was no different. 

Avosa scooted out across the lawn and back into the rain one last time. Shivering, she jogged past the back garden and through the kitchen doors which were slightly ajar, allowing a bit of warmth to escape from the blazing kiln towards which she hurried for some respite from the cold. Rubbing her hands together quickly, she held them up to the low flames. Her father had left some grain drying to make his ale, but he was nowhere to be seen. The table was set for lunch, and her mouth watered as she eyed the mutton stew simmering on the hearth, releasing an aroma of basil and thyme.

She licked her lips and grabbed a spoon, one bite wouldn't hurt. She chewed up the tender meat as she made her way up the stairs to await her dad's call to dine. Her room was in the attic quarters. It was a small space but it held all she needed; her bed and nightstand and a small chest she and her father made together for her clothes and belongings. It was intricately carved by the craftsman in Dunne and was lined in runic text, with the mighty Cormorant in its center, surrounded by puffs of cattails darting out of the water around it. 

She took off her wet clothes and hung them up on the hooks by the window to bake in the sun's arrival if it arrived at all. By the looks of it outside, the chances were slim. The rain pounded viciously against the  rooftop and the small window pane above her bed in a rhythmic beating. The sound almost hypnotized her. 

Snapping out of its trance, she grabbed a dry set of undergarments, and sat at her desk, which was simply a slab of wood harnessed to the wall opposite her bed. She liked to sketch pictures and practice her writing there. She began trying to capture what she saw in the sky but after the first few attempts, her nightmares began to surface. She wondered if she would dream again that night? Who were the faceless people? And why did they only chase her in the rain? She grumbled, hated that it felt like she was hiding, and loathed that the rain had chased her to her room. Maybe, one day, she'll be able to stop the storms. She smiled at the silly thought, why would she think such a thing? But it lingered. It felt right. 

Maybe, one day, she would.