Sweet and moist the air swept gently across the mountains. Wispy white clouds raced about as heavy dark billows lumbered methodically through the narrow passes.
We knew there would be a storm that night but to watch it make its’ way toward you was a new a disconcerting experience. The woodlands had been my home since birth. There you might hear a distant rumble shortly before the storm but mostly it came upon you with all the stealth of an eagle swooping down from the vast blue to capture the unsuspecting rabbit.
Here we sat, our first night in this vast barren waste and we could see the storm coming. Miles and miles away, it crawled and loomed ever nearer, like a snake seeking to mesmerize its’ pray by sheer admiration of its’ deadly coils.