The Forgotten Ones

#The Storm#

It's the storm again. I was frightened, very frightened. When it came, mother and I were sewing together in our home. The ground suddenly cracked and rumbled. Terrified, I clutched my mother's hand and begun running. We ran, so far, but not fast. Tired, mother and I came to a stop under the enormous log, it hung wavering over our heads, but doesn't fall. We settled down, I fumbled through my pack for water, then handed my mother the tin can of water, who drank silently in small sips.
Sometimes, the Storm lasts for weeks or even months, and sometimes, it only lasts for a few dozen minutes with the ground cracking and shifting. We know when it comes, but never we knew when it goes---- and when it happens, nowhere is safe.
Mother and I begun traveling again, the ground beneath us roars and moves like an angry dragon, shifting uncomfortably beneath our feet. We have to make it to the next village, where the storm cannot chase us to yet. And hide with the others until it is safe for a Gathering.