Annlynn woke early the next morning, beginning her morning by starting with her long list of chores. Collecting eggs from the neighboring chickens had, in may senses, given Annlynn time to observe the village. And in the case that her stepmother would leave her in the house for hours afterward, she had to do what she could beforehand. Several cows bellowed off in a distant field. A cardinal gave his typical spring song. And yet, the heat and the thickness of the air had been unusual.

She moved on to collecting eggs for Tarvos’ family. When she brought them into the hut, Tarvos grinned.

“I hope your stepmother didn’t give you much trouble yet,” he suggested.

“I did my chores early,” Annlynn said. “I hope it helps. But she mentioned it again before I left. The punishment, that is. But I feigned exhaustion to avoid all of it, and opted to talk today.”

“You could stay here today,” Tarvos said. “Or leave the village altogether. I think my father would help. You could live with us. Because I don’t know anyone who gets that mad over someone spending that much time with their friends over their first coming of age ceremony.”

“I should, I know,” Annlynn said. “I would like to leave. Maybe go to that one mythical tavern and see the elvish hunters. But it’s a long journey, and the king ordered my adoption. By law, I am stuck here.”

Tarvos punched her shoulder lightly. “Come on. You know you want to.”

“I want to,” Annlynn said. She couldn’t deny how half her daydreams and stories were aimed at the idea that one day, she might be able to escape her stepmother. The woman who had blamed Annlynn for all of her problems would likely be grateful for it. But there was a deep fear. Her two hunting trips with Tarvos and his father didn’t accrue enough survival skills. “But I don’t know if I can. The weather can be dangerous this time of year. And it seems like It’s likely to be worse this year.”

“You’re always welcome here,” Tarvos said.

A shrill voice called across the plains. “Annlynn!”

Annlynn’s stomach dropped. She then turned and raced home, only to find her stepmother standing with a wooden spoon. Annlynn inched into the hovel, following her red-faced caregiver.

“And why do you think I called you into this house?” She asked.

“I was out talking to Tarvos when I should have been working,” Annlynn said. “I collected the eggs and brought some back.”

“Well, I hope it’s enough that it helps you feel better about your punishment,” the stepmother said. “You are in trouble for talking to Tarvos late into the night. I don’t like the ideas his parents have. And then you think it’s a good idea to spend extra time talking to him when you should be back home? Honestly, at this point, you can forget your chores.”

“They give the idea that you mistreat me?” Annlynn asked. “Because I am not the one who tells them that.”

“I’ve sacrificed pretty much everything for you,” her stepmother said. “I kept you alive on the king’s order, when I should have done so for my daughter, back when the famine had reached its height. My daughter is dead because of you. Not to mention my husband went off to war for more rations and he died, just to protect you. You cannot tell me you are mistreated when I have given up so much for you. Anything else is entirely inaccurate, and you should be ashamed of yourself.”

“I am,” Annlynn said. Just not in the ways you think.

“Then you should know why I still have to punish you for last night, because you have not accounted for your crimes, and you still hang out with that person. If you had hung out with a girl, none of this would have mattered. But Tarvos is rather peculiar, and I don’t want him to give you the wrong ideas,” the stepmother said. She turned to Annlynn and spat on the ground. “I should show some grace, since yesterday was special. Normally, I would have you skip dinner. But for all of today, you are not to leave this hovel all day.”

“Is there not something else?” Annlynn asked. “I could avoid eating. There’s supposed to be a bout of bad weather today.”

“It’s still early for the worst of it,” stepmother said. “If we do get a tornado, it probably won’t be bad enough. You will stay here. And think about listening to me next time.”

“But—.”

“You do not get to choose how you are punished,” stepmother said. She snarled, bending down to reach Annlynn’s face. “By your protests, I know that I have chosen the right method. But you, my dear, are always so ungrateful for everything. I ought to do worse to you today, for sneaking out at night, but when I show some mercy, all you do is complain. You do not know the full extent of shame this could bring on us, especially with the way a lot of church people will talk about us. Me, in particular. For once, could you take the mercy I have given you and be done with it?”

Annlynn wanted to yell at her stepmother once more. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Even if Annlynn and Tarvos were perceived as different genders, Tarvos never once expressed an interest in kissing girls. He had never talked about a romance between an man and a woman. Always between men. The chances of them doing anything her stepmother feared were slim. But even still, to say that, at this point, would likely mean death for her. Her stepmother would report the conversation to the church, and it would lead to consequences for both Tarvos and herself. She did not want to make things worse at that point; she just wanted to stop talking to her stepmother.

Meanwhile, Tarvos’ words still lingered in the back of her mind. She could leave, and although it would have been a risk, she was certain it would have been better than this. Anything, at that point, would have been better for her than staying here. Not that she would have much chances anyway. But, in many senses, she had begun to think about the what ifs.

Every other time she had thought about leaving, the idea of leaving Tarvos—and her friends—behind had left her with an emotional pain she hadn’t known what to do with it. She didn’t want to leave them. Additionally, she was certain the king would hunt her down.

Over the course of the day, as Annlynn watched out of the window, she could perceive the storm as it grew off in the distance. In old legends, certain types of storms had been given importance. In this case, a storm shaped in a circular manner had appeared over the horizon. The name had come from an ancient, mythical beast called the halygor, which had been said to shaped like a dragon, but with fur and imagery which would have reminded people of a large bat.

Annlynn wanted to protest her stepmother once more. In many cases, she absolutely should have. Being sheltered during whatever event would have been wise. But something, regardless of how prominent the threatening weather was, had snapped. She did not want to stay in this village, and if her stepmother was hidden, then well. If she were to have a chance to escape this village, then during a disaster would likely be her best chance.

Her stepmother kept rambling, pacing to and fro. At first, Annlynn attempted to listen to it, but the woman spoke in low decibels. Responding to her stepmother would likely be among the worst mistakes Annlynn had made, and so the eighteen-year-old decided to ignore her. Annlynn remained near the window, having grabbed a chair. She held her knees to her chest. All the while, clouds which had formulated off in the west continued blooming, showing a deep color which would cause anyone to worry.

She should have prepared to go the the cellar, but this time, Annlynn would not push back against her stepmother. Her plans were dangerous, and she knew it. Tornadoes, if they did occur, would not be the worst thing she would come across.

A knock came to the door. Her stepmother turned, grabbed a nearby blanket, and threw it to Annlynn. “Stay out of sight. You don’t want anyone to know you got in trouble on your eighteenth, do you?”

Annlynn took the blanket and she placed it over herself. She wasn’t certain she was actually hiding, save for the fact that her corner was eerily dark, masked by several canned goods.

“They say this storm is likely to produce a strong tornado,” A man said. “You should come with. And your stepdaughter.”

“Annlynn is off with Tarvos and his family,” her stepmother said. “Thank goodness for that. But I will be in my  shelter shortly. Now off with you, then. I have things to do before the weather turns any worse.”

When the man left, the town bells rang out, carrying a dull tone. With a note repeating three times before dipping, the message was clear. The chimes had a saccharine, triumphant ring, but they announced the weather, indicating how they were likely to experience dangerous weather. Annlynn had often listened to the patterns in the bells, noting a simple tune. She had often found an interest in music, although she couldn’t explain where it had come from. In an old life, she had been surrounded by many quartets who had boasted styles which were incongruent with what she’d heard in the village outside of church. But it didn’t matter what she hadn’t heard, or the types Tarvos’ father would play on the fiddle. She had sometimes daydreamed about playing music. And not just country music, but music on the violin.

When her stepmother left to go into the cellar, Annlynn made an agreement to stay with all of the cans, because at least that area was away from the windows. But when her stepmother was gone, she moved to the food, glancing around before grabbing some of the goods. She would be called a thief for this, but at that point, she didn’t care.

When she finished, she turned toward door, her entire body trembling. She’d had the sense to try and grab a cloak, some bread, and a few cheeses. It would be enough for one day. She’d known where to go to reach a long river. Her hope was that she would be able to reach the river in a day, and then live off the fish. She’d been hunting with Tarvos and his brothers; hopefully it would be enough that she could survive out in the wild. But there was still a lot of fear. If everything went well, she would not return to this village.

Where she would go, she did not know. A tear slipped down her cheek as she made it outside, stepping away toward the east. That was, in many senses, the best way toward the river. But she had not made it far when she turned back, and noted a small rope of clouds touching the ground. Her heart skipped a beat. Maybe it was wrong to try and run away during a tornado. Maybe she should go back inside and try to run again, when night called. But as she thought about what her stepmother would be like, she knew she couldn’t stay.

The twister shifted, morphing from a small rope, eventually taking the form of a large person. A belabored breath later, and Annlynn turned in between a windmill and a stone wall. She waited, her eyes on the tornado as the person marched toward Tarvos’ house, crumpling it to the ground like someone had kicked over a large stack of books. Annlynn wanted to scream, but she withheld her voice, fearing what would come.

Tornadoes which morphed into large people had often been given a very specific name. The elven ghost. When someone saw the elven ghost, and if they lived, it was often a sign that something—or someone—had unfinished business. She quivered. In reality, she knew what the elven ghost would mean to her, although she was uncertain of how she would deal with the consequences. The tears pricked the corners of her eyes. She wanted to scream, or to at least say something. Large droplets of rain fell onto her head.

Annlynn turned away, ignoring the rain as she darted away from the village. A few times in a row, she would glance over in the hills, only to see another tornado. In most cases, those tornadoes never became too large. But even still, the image of the tornado ripping up Tarvos’ house never left her mind, even after the storm clouds drifted away and the storm reached its conclusion.