She had, of course, seen storms approach before. She had never feared rainclouds. But this time, she stood on rocks at the edge of the lake, watching the storm drench the horizon, feeling the damp wind on her face and in her hair, and a small shiver forecast fear up her spine.
I refuse to stand down, she whispered, unable to raise her voice. The rocks beneath her grew slippery as the waves around them chopped and swirled. She could not tell why or how, but this storm was different from all the rest.