The Storm Lamb

Black Blizzard

The black flakes fall gracefully and beautifully from the still blackening sky, had it not been as deadly, it would have been a sight to be held and appreciated. The snow seeped into her skin, tingling ever so slightly, a subtle evolution into pain by every movement and contact with the rising wind. She watched the color shift mercilessly and completely to grey as the sun's ray was engulfed by the cloud. Her first shot missed, it mattered little in her thoughts if the second one missed as well but she didn't think that out loud. 

The priests around her had recovered, and only through the darkening cloud that eclipsed the sun were they able to observe her, standing alone, her bow, a golden light shining in the darkness. Their eyes were clear now, free from the cloud of deception, the truth of darkness lies in front of them and now they could see without the blinding candid light. 

She finally understood that they had stuck this ritual onto him and her soul anointment would not do, with reservation and doubts, she bit into her wrist, she let the life flowed out of her and properly anointed the arrow with her blood instead of her soul. The dull ache in her shoulder grew, tripling as she tugged gently at the strings of the bow. The blood slithered down the arrow like a snake as she held it down, repeating the scripture once more, this time, somehow even less genuine than before. 

"The father of Storm questions me, the mother of Storm answers me. I behold the noble privilege of giving my life in exchange of the many individual wills that dwell upon this land. Sooth the wind, smother the blizzard, calm the storm..."

"...Take my life." 

The chant began like a shout; fierce and loud, audaciously going against the brewing thunder in the air, but as she continued, a softness overtook it instead and it was soon reduced to a soft weeping and an angry whisper as the blood dripped down her arrow and the pain in her shoulder deadened. The beating of her heart slowed into a complete pause as she stood still. 

Tomas was not impressed by her theatrics, at least that's what he thought it was. And he had half the mind to step over to reread the scripture to make sure the arrow worked. He was equally disgusted by the martyrism demonstrated here, or at least he thinks, he wanted to shout for her to get on with it but if what she was doing is indeed right for her sect, then it was best he does not interrupt. He prayed to the One Above that she was indeed the one meant to end it. 

Eli watched with severe intrigued as he watched her blood turning into a pool on the floor. The black snow that tightened his lung suddenly meant nothing. A fascination has overtaken his fear as if he had any, to begin with. She stood in the center of it all, the might of the thunder rang silent in her ear while the blowing snow felt little, the temperature lowered as time continue to pass, the beating of many hearts sped while hers paused completely, her skin turned greyer and her equally grey eyes dilated. 

Not only was the world engulf by darkness, flakes darker than black swirl around the wind, and some of it sways into her eyes, it would have felt like a million needles piercing it but still she did not move. Eli at first smiled nervously, as he walked towards where she stood, the way she appeared to be brooding was funny to him, he laughs then he questions himself gravely if this is where Death finally gets him, if it is, then it would be certainly very anti-climatic and unfitting. The chieftain looked up finally as everyone else had, she was standing in the middle of it all, the bleeding had now stopped, the black snow had gathered in the pool of it. 

It would have seemed she would not move, Tomas quickly slapped an archer next to him conscious of his surrounding, all his rage, and frustration in that one gesture as his eyes signaled an anger that was having difficulty to be contained. The archer licked his lips and was not as dull as he looked, pulled an arrow out and asked for his blessing, Tomas bent down with urgency and picked up his scripture, flipping it to the specific page and very heavily put his hand onto the Archer's shoulder. Then found the chieftain's chest, Tomas was already holding his breath but he habitually took in a lungful of air, he violently coughed before gripping the short sword readying for a thrust. 

"And! Behold the sacrifice I bring thou, for the end of darkness is all I beseech, spare us all, for the life of my child, for the life my child's child! I beseech mercy, compassion and most of all, light-" He almost screamed those words as the pupils of her eyes contracted back. She looked back and her breath returned to her, brief and swift were her breath, but she was disturbed by what she was seeing. They were going to sacrifice him when she had already poured a large portion of her life over it. What was the matter? It shouldn't matter to her whether he lives or die. 

She pulls her bow up, the blood spilled back with the speed and force she raised her bow with, she held the nock of her arrow unyieldingly, in spite of her many fears and many doubts, she willed herself to not shake for that would be the end. Maybe at that virtuous second, her father would have been proud of her. She wonders. 

With the swiftness of a sparrow, Hail pulled with fear and doubts towards life and in the exactitude when she let go, Tomas too thrust with hope and fear towards life.