Hello Hurricane {English Translation}

27. Domen - Innsbruck - Day of competition

Wind gusts whipped impatiently through the jumper's accommodation. Made sure that hats and caps left their ancestral heads and numerous pieces of paper made attempts to escape because they had been only carelessly weight down. Although the sun shone with all its might, the wind made the people of Bergisel shiver. Reminding them, despite the lack of snow, that it was winter. The responsibles of the competition ran back and forth, observing weather forecasts, feverishly discussing the upcoming competition.

The athletes tried to defy the wind. Tried not to be influenced by the tension you could feel in every corner of the accommodation. Despite half-frozen noses, they warm up, repeatedly shaken by the icy wind, which pearced through any material with ease.

Even in the containers you could feel the effects of the storm. The clinking of the windows when a gust was pressed against the metal wall. The howling that you could hear when the cold air squeezed through the narrow doorway.

Impatient, Domen ran back and forth in the fully occupied container of the Slovenians. Domen wanted to jump. He had to jump. Again and again, he glanced at the door, under which the flooring material rose and fell at irregular intervals, as the door was pushed open from the outside.

"Fucking storm," was the first thing Goran grimly said as he trudged into the cabin, followed by Nejc and an icy draft. "We're trying it. Trial round and then competition. Start is in an hour. Preparation is running. After the first trial jumpers, we know what to expect. But if I look at it that way, the slope will be mirror-smooth and the air movements unpredictable. "

"That means everything as always. Prepare, keep warm. It's going to be a long tough day, "Nejc summarized carelessly.

Goran nodded darkly, studying them one by one. "Get out of here now. Warm up, "Goran barked into the silence. Frantically they jumped up. Domen, relieved not to be doomed to wait any longer, hurried to his clothes, donned his hat full of élan and was already on the way to the door, as Goran whistled him back.

"What ?!" he snapped as he heard his name. Goran darkened his eyebrows. The vein on his forehead pulsed menacingly.

"Um ... I mean ... what can I do for you, Goran?", Domen hastily corrected himself, trying to keep out the displeasure of his facial expressions and gestures that he has been carrying since yesterday evening. Cene, standing in the back of their coach, escaped a mischievous giggle. The first on this day. Before, he had been busy with ignoring Domen. Cene didn't like being laughed at.

"Do you need an extra invitation?" Goran snapped impatiently at the older Prevc brother, whose smile disappeared almost immediately. Instead, it appeared maliciously on Domens face again. They all knew that there was an extra round in the weight room included if you need an extra invitation.

Blindly Cene reached for his jacket and hurriedly left the Slovenian team container. The silence that entered as the door shut seemed more than overwhelming to Domen. The hiss of the gusts intensified his inner restlessness. Even though he'd just dismissed Cene's words with his laugh and put them in the 'Are you kidding or did you take too many pills?' category, he simply couldn't get them out of his head. They didn't leave him alone. Forcing him to ascertain again and again that they were stupid. Restless, Domen began waving his gloves around, flicking them sideways against his thigh.

"Are you okay, boy?" -

"Sure." What shouldn't be okay, please? Everything was as usual with him. In contrast to Cene. In the recent past, brain activity has been cabled wrong in Cenes head.

"You know, you can talk to us anytime. If it gets too much for you. You're seventeen. That's no shame, "Goran continued talking awkwardly, keeping a close eye on his protégé.