The Lightning Strike

Tonravik's nudge prompted her to call lowly from where she was, though she imagined that with the voices that stirred and rose in response, she did little but improve their headcount. And the bodies came tumbling in all the same, some familiar and several that were not. Their ranks were robust, though far from complete in what she could see rallied with them.

And then there was the growing rumble of intensity in the sky above them, a peal of thunder strong enough to quake the earth beneath her feet and send an imperceptible shiver through the timberline. Tonravik's voice rolled out behind the fade, delegating and directing them. She was at her place, close like a small shield that was every bit as ready to go as she was determined to shake loose of the incoming storm. Dourly, she tugged at the fur of her aokkatti, insistent that they go and go now. Those that did not understand would figure it out or would simply find themselves cast off, or so she felt.