The rain hammered against the shutters. Some of it leaked through the shutters, splattering onto the window that was starting to steam up as the air cooled outside.
Rhys and Yeil huddled in the centre of the room, wrapped in thick blankets. The house would hold, it had been tested before and it would be again, but that was no reason to be lax about safety. At least here, sat in the centre of the protective runes and offerings to their protector, Lymar, they would be safe.
“You think this will be worse than last year?” Yeli said, nuzzling into Rhys’ shoulder. She didn’t want to focus on the rain, the wind, or the unspeakable storm that roared outside. It would be tomorrow morning that they would see the devastation across their little camp.
If any of it survives, she thought. They managed to get most of the equipment inside, but the storm had struck too quick to get it all inside. Instead, they had just about managed to lash it down with the tarp and ropes.
“I don’t think so,” Rhys said, pulling Yeli close, “last year was bad. This, this isn’t good, but it’s better. We’ve only had a few hours of rain this time.”
“Still,” Yeli said, jumping as the shutters rattled again. The forcefield above them managed to keep the worst of the rain off the roof, but they didn’t have enough power to extend it down to the side of their house. Still, it was a marked improvement on two years ago, when the roof had leaked so bad that the entire bedroom area had been ruined.
“Lymar will protect us,” Rhys said, gesturing to the glowing symbols that where eched into the cubes of marble that surrounded them. His faith was always unwavering in Lymar, it was one of the reasons Yeli loved him so much. She wished her own devotion as unwavering as well.
“I know,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut, “but I just want this to end.”
This flashfiction was first posted in 2019
Featured Image by Alice Hampson on Unsplash
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