Big Salmon Lake Sharknado

"Yeah." She smirked, almost looking meek as she shrugged in agreement. She liked this story much better than the "I don't know, I can't remember" spiel. It made her the mystical girl who communes with black birds. She liked that much more than the pitiful girl who was attacked and can't remember what happened.

"I was." She didn't see why she shouldn't? It was all she had known for moons. The darkness was comfortable to her, and the caws of the crows and ravens were merely in the background most of her life. Until now. "And I do like it. But it looks different now, after the storm. The wind funnel —does it have a name?— came past us, but the storm messed us up regardless." She didn't go into specifics, but figured the mere mention of the storm was enough. "What was that thing anyway? Have you ever seen something like that before?" He was older, so naturally she assumed that he knew what the storm was. It wasn't like she had her mother to tell her.