The lightning didn’t jump from heaven to earth so much as launch itself from above and drive itself into the ground seeking to split the world in two. It was so close, the thunder so loud and so immediate, the illumination so blinding, that Reeve found herself standing still for a moment, waiting for a chime to sound. Or chimes. Instead, her ears were left filled with cotton, only a high monotonic whine audible at first. Between bolts, she felt like she was going to drown, the night that surrounded them more water than air. From that darkness, Leaf appeared just in front of Reeve, the fallen elf’s cloak fighting to rip free of her body, her lips moving but no sound piercing the cotton and the whine.

“I can’t hear you!” Reeve yelled.

Leaf turned and pointed into the darkness. With the next flash, Reeve could make out what might have been a long, rocky, slug-shaped hill, likely carved by the glaciers that once buried this land miles deep. Reeve signed understanding and turned to the pony she was still leading by the reins. Her father wasn’t on it. Reeve experienced a moment of fear. She squatted and looked under the skittish beast. Her father, and the saddle, hung from the pony’s chest. Walter’s hands were white-knuckled on the pommel.

“You find a cozy spot?” She yelled, trying to outcompete the thunder and rain. She could see that her father said something in response, but she heard only the faintest hint of words. He tried again.

“River stones.”

“Resurrection stones!”

“Right! And, do…you…have…a…rain slicker?” Lightning flashed, and he buried his face in the pony’s chest as it sidestepped and whinnied. The thunder hit like a hammer. As it rolled away, Walter let the crown of his head drop backward toward the ground, which it almost touched. “Or…a windbreaker? Anything?”

Reeve stood and waved the party toward the hill, Leaf already disappearing into the tall grass. “Try to avoid big rocks,” Reeve shouted toward Leaf. “Don’t want to scrape off my dad.”