The storm came with no warning.
By dusk, the clouds had gathered thick over the valley, pressing low and dark until the air itself felt heavy. The trees shuddered beneath the wind, and thunder rolled across the horizon like an ancient beast awakening. Isla sat near the window of the small hut, watching the sky bruise with gray and black. The smell of rain seeped through the cracks, cold and sharp.
Jonas was at the door, tightening the latch. "We'll need to wait it out," he said. "The river will rise by nightfall. If we move now, we'll be swept away."
Isla nodded, her hand resting on her stomach. The child had been restless all day, as if sensing the chaos around them. "How long can we stay hidden here?" she asked.
Jonas hesitated before answering. "A few days, maybe. Less if Dante's men start combing this side of the ridge."
