The wind buffets the walls of the little house and the roof over her head rattles. The shadows of trees dancing wildly before her. A flash of lightning illuminates the sky, announcing its master before he arrives, disgruntled and laden with more demands. More complaints. Doing his level best to cuss them out before his strength wanes and he has to retire. Exhausted from the vigor with which he has used to shout his displeasure.
She listens to it, though she does not speak its language. Hears their calls, strains to catch their words. She knows she'd have to be lucky or insane to catch what they're saying, but it doesn't stop her from trying. I wonder why he is so angry. She thinks to herself, wrapping herself still more firmly around the small form of her son beside her. You would think he would have less resentment, he is only thunder after all. What could possibly have wronged him?
He shouts again, closer this time. An earthshaking roar of frustration. Her little son whimpers in his sleep, and she strokes soft locks off of his forehead. Hushing the fear that fights to rise. "I'm sorry." She whispers crossly, once he has settled and she is sure he will not wake. "I was just wondering. It's not any of my business anyway. You have a right to all the anger in the world if you want."
The distant echoing grows fainter still, gathering itself for one more, half-hearted shout, before trundling off somewhere over the mountains to voice its disapproval elsewhere, the rain dying down as it goes. Calmer and quieter with no one left to impress. In the moments after, and the one just before her eyes slide shut, she wonders if maybe she's not a little insane after all.
