27The Storm
The wind rustled through the trees; leaves were ripped off branches and grasses were whipped from side to side. In all of this confusion, a girl stood, alone and dressed only in a long tunic. Her eyes were opaque and her hands were moving in intricate patterns. She grabbed a fistful of air currents and channeled them out, towards the shores of the isle. Meanwhile, out in the deep blue, a tempest was broiling in the waves. Ever so slowly, it was winding its way towards the island.
Suddenly, the wind picked up and began to howl; her tunic was blowing every which way, while her white hair flew about her face. Her muscles strained as she tried to control the wind; normally the power running through her would have ripped any normal person apart, but then again, she wasn't normal. She gritted her teeth as her hands curled into fists; her mind wrapped around the storm. It pulled and ripped, wrenching at her hands, trying to twist free to escape. She bore down but the storm only fought back harder.
First things first, she removed the gusting wind blowing the tempest closer to her position; slowly, the storm subsided and started to fade as its power diminished with it. She released her mental grip on the receding wind and gasped with relief. Her eyes changed back to purple from the white they had been, and then she collapsed.
That's how they found her, just lying on the ground, her white hair spilling over her face. The townspeople were afraid to move her. She was only alive because they needed her to control the winds. She was freak and that was that.
Eventually they all left, she was still unconscious and lying on the ground. Then it started to rain; the wet drops spattered across her face, and her tunic became soaked. She finally awoke to thunder. The gentle rain gathered in puddles around her body and ran in rivulets towards the town.
Slowly, she moved and opened her eyes to the darkness. She rolled over and looked towards the village and the lanterns hanging above the shops. Standing painfully, she staggered towards them until she reached a building. She looked up at the cracked and battered sign. It had a picture of a mangy hound and "The Drooling Dog" written underneath it.
She crawled up to the door and pushed it open. A billow of smoke wafted into her face; she could hear voices and laughter, fires crackling and beer mugs clinking. As she crawled into the room towards the throng, the voices stopped. People turned towards the bedraggled stranger hanging on the door.
The innkeeper recognized her and yelled, "Go away, we don't want your kind here."
She looked up through her dirt-crusted hair, "I saved the village and I demand something in return for my help. Without me, you wouldn't have survived."
"I said you aren't welcome here and you deserve nothing in return for what you did. Neither food, nor shelter for the likes o' you," the innkeeper looked about nervously.
The room was dead silent when she answered, "Then I suppose I'll just have to take my payment now." She lifted her hands, tired as she was towards the roof. Outside, the wind rustled and the sign on the door of the tavern whipped back and forth, clattering. The glasses and bottles inside the inn began to rattle. They fell off shelves and tables. People stood up from their chairs with fear in their eyes.
Meanwhile, her eyes were white. You could see the storm clouds outside rolling, flashing and becoming larger, as they were the leftovers of the tempest. Then a whirlwind started in the middle of the room. Chairs were clattering and falling over as the innkeeper hid behind the bar. The other occupants hid under tables or in corners, some ran upstairs while others looked about wildly for a way to escape. That crazy girl was blocking the only door to the outside. There actually was another entrance, but only the cooks and kitchen boys knew about it and they had already left, running for their lives.
As the wind outside and inside gained intensity, the mirror above the bar began to shake and then suddenly shattered. Some of the women who had been frequenting the bar started to scream, as their hair was being whipped about. The tables were being lifted off the floor, and the beams on the roof were shaking dust off of them onto the people below.
They were yelling at her, telling her to stop, but her rage was too great. She had saved them, all of them, and they still shunned her. She was tired and hungry; she just wanted something to eat and a warm place to sleep. But that wasn't going to happen, they treated her like some piece of property that they could use and throw away on a whim. She was ready to kill everyone in that room. They had no respect for people like her. She knew she was different, but that didn't mean she could be treated like a slave.
Her eyes flashed again as the wind increased to a flurry. People were picked up and slammed against tables or walls. Smashed glass was flung into wooden beams and turned over chairs; beer coated the floor in slippery goo.
Finally, her wind reached full strength; she was about to release her devastating attack, when she was hit on the head from behind.
Author's Note:Whew, that was redone. I'm planning on re-doing all the chapter I write. Things seem to fit better after you revise them a bit. Enjoy!