Golden Child | ✓

3. Taken by Storm

Her parents were talkative at dinner. Her father had returned with a beautiful piece of roast he'd purchased from the butcher—a peace offering bought with rare mushroom coin.

Aurelie's mother forgave him instantly and set to work preparing the meal.

They ate around their square wooden table—Aurelie and Gin opposite each other with a parent on each side. Aurelie ripped a chunk of meat off in her mouth and shoved a bite of rice and soup in after it. Juice dribbled down her chin as she closed her eyes to savor the flavor and warmth.

Gin shook her head fondly and slid her a cloth napkin while their parents discussed the latest news of young people being seen in each other's company and recent livestock purchases.

Aurelie didn't pay much attention. The food was too good and she'd worked up an appetite with her rain praying. It would be a heavy storm. She'd felt it in her bones, a sort of electric shock. The wind had shifted within a couple minutes.

Luck activation, Gin liked to call it.

Someone's foot tapped hers under the table. Aurelie glanced up with a strip of meat hanging from her mouth.

Her mother raised an eyebrow at her while she slowly slurped up the piece of beef. Helpless, she looked to Gin, who mouthed "the shrine".

Nodding, Aurelie wiped her face. "I left the rice cakes like you asked, mama," she said, hoping that was the right answer to the question she'd missed.

Her father sniffed in annoyance, but wisely refrained from a negative comment about the shrine his wife had dedicated to the forest spirits.

"And did you see anything, Aurelie?" her mother asked, leaning forward in her chair. Her hand holding her chopsticks fell limp beside her bowl.

Gin sighed from across the table. She was a fast eater, despite her precise, neat bites. Only a few grains of rice were left on her plate. A waste, Aurelie could hear her sister thinking.

They never met any spirits on their trips to the shrine and were certain it was normal forest animals who benefited from the delicious rice cake tributes.

"I didn't see anything" —Aurelie watched her mother's face fall in disappointment before remembering— "oh wait! There was a little blue light." She cupped her hands. "Like a candle flame."

She'd expected her encounter to be greeted with happiness, but instead, her mother's sun-kissed skin paled as the blood left her face. "Aurelie," she said quietly, "You are not to go back to the forest for several days. That was a death spirit."

"Not so, Akemi," Aurelie's father interrupted, his mouth half-full. "Must have been a wisp." He finished his mouthful, though some specks of rice had gotten stuck in his blond beard. A grin lighted his face. "They say wisps mark the site of faerie gold and promise the beginning of a new life."

Aurelie's mother slapped her palm against the table, causing the rest of them to flinch. "It's fox-fire," she proclaimed, her tone harsh. "And I'll not having my children lured to their deaths into a marsh or off a cliff for the sake of fool's gold." A heavy accent tinged her words, which revealed to them how truly angry she was to let it slip in. When they'd been very young, Aurelie and Gin had listened to their mother recite phrases over and over, training the accent out of her speech so they wouldn't pick it up from her.

"There are no cliffs or bogs around here," their father grumbled, but they all knew he'd lost the argument. He jumped up when the wind blew the shutters open and snuffed out all their candlelight.

The room fell into gloom and the storm howled outside like a dying beast. Aurelie shivered. It had answered her summons. Gin threw a blanket around both their shoulders while her father tried to get the shutters to stay closed and her mother re-lit the candles.

They all froze when the roof above their heads groaned in answer to the wind.

"Get outside, girls," her father said.

None of them moved. They couldn't for fear.

"Now!" he roared, scooping up Aurelie and Gin in his thick arms and ushering their mother out in front of him.

A snapping sound like thunder echoed behind them. The structure's main beam—the beam Aurelie's father had been meaning to replace—gave away.

Aurelie watched her home collapse from over her father's shoulder. Sheets of rain slapped her back, chilling even through the blanket, cold even though it was still summer. She thought a whole tree, uprooted and with loosened dirt flying in its wake, passed behind their house. With the savage wind blowing moisture into her eyes, she had to blink, and the next moment the tree was gone.

Aurelie's mother cried out and ran back the way they'd come.

"Stay here!" Aurelie's father yelled above the wind as he set them down and went after her. Aurelie and Gin huddled together, already soaked. The rain paired with the biting wind started to numb her face.

Gradually, Aurelie became aware of Gin shouting at her. "Can you reverse it!" her sister asked.

Aurelie closed her eyes, feeling out the wind. I'm here. You called me, it seemed to say to her. She trembled from the force of it. This had never happened before. Usually, a gentle spring rain would follow her prayers. She ducked her head under the blanket and Gin pulled her closer to conserve warmth.

Strangely, Aurelie felt that she could send the storm away—but she didn't tell Gin so. The wind tugged angrily at her hair. I came. You called and I came, it insisted.

She felt a braid of her hair whip loose in the wind and before she could grasp at it, the storm snatched one of Gin's ribbons away.

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