Damn the prophet! “I warn you. She who controls the wind will bring destruction.”
When that man had wandered into her town, they had welcomed him with open arms, after all he was a traveller simply looking for a room for the night. With his long, stained robe, his gnarled walking stick, and the small pack, he had not seemed like a threat, but he had stayed and stayed, and every day his clear blue eyes seemed a little more threatening, his demeanor a little more commanding. The elders listened to him, knowing that he had seen more of the world than they had. They believed his stories of fights among the dukes, of invaders gathering in the north. He frightened them and they allowed it.
Shyla’s mistake had been to contradict him, to announce in the square that she didn’t trust him, to allow her anger to escape into a tempest that whipped through the town. That man, that self-proclaimed prophet, had turned on her, the hatred in his eyes scalding. She knew in that moment she had sealed her fate.
Now, here she was. Exiled. They had dragged her to this swamp and left her with no protection, no shelter. People she had known since she was a child, the same folks who had taken her in when she was homeless, motherless, they had left her here to die. But they had underestimated her. Even hungry and half-naked, she was not helpless.
She began to sway and her moaning took on a melody, a gentle, sad song. A breeze picked up, warm and fresh compared to this place of death and decay. It became a gale, wrapped itself around her, comforting. Shyla knew what she needed to do. She could not let that man, a man she knew was evil, control the people she loved, render the elders powerless. Even if the people she had trusted had turned their backs on her, she wouldn’t forsake them. She raised her arms to the sky, darkened and roiling. Lightning flashed. She began the walk back to town. She would not be the one dying tonight.
Dottie at Tink’s Place has a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge that I’m enjoying. Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to participate you post your story on Friday – 350 words, give or take.