[/html]Now in truth, this was not the worst storm Roselle had ever experienced. She had been caught in one en route across the ocean and petrified that destiny might send her to a watery grave. When that had proven not to be the case she had moved on, though with a more fatalistic view on life. If she could die at any moment, what did it matter that her heart had been broken? It strengthened her resolve and gave her courage, something she found herself needing often on dark nights.
The trees had told her everything long before the storm hit, but she had to prepare her home so that the treasures within were not destroyed. It wasn’t until the last window was forced closed that she grabbed a thick traveling cloak (a massive reindeer pelt she had modified to fit her slight form) and pulled it over her head. The thick fur around her head helped muffle the howling gale but dulled her senses. Squinting against the rain, she hurried towards Skye’s voice.
Roselle was not the first to arrive and once in looked at the meager group with worry apparent in her crystalline gaze. When her eyes fell to Jace they hardened, but this was gone as soon as she saw the children. Still alive, though oh how could they be healthy with the woman looking as she did? Instead she turned to Skye, long hair spilling out from under her rain-drenched cloak. “Vee should make a fire,” she said, and shivered as another tree let forth a mighty CRACK somewhere nearby.
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