The Year Of Rain

Disaster countdown

Everything was silent. No birds' song was resonating through the air, no critters were daring to disturb the quiet dominating the forest. Everything was covered in white, asleep underneath the blanket that winter covered them with. The colors of the still adorned trees with their green needle-like leaves and the silver, glimmering snow were blending together in a still-life picture that caught anyone's attention. There was a silent lullaby in the air, a force that beckoned them all to fall into a deep slumber. And they obeyed, leaving the forest alone with itself, awaiting, dreaming.

Outside the cabin, Moder was sleeping, taking a stroll through the land of memories that made up his past, reliving the times he spent with his siblings. He...sort of missed them, even though they were all jerks, save for Hel, the half-rotten child whom Loki held very dear, a fondness that sought to make up for the coldness the others treated her with. The others didn't care. Fenrir and Jormungand had their own problems to deal with.

The Birch was by his side, keeping a close eye on the surroundings. She didn't like winter, for the stillness could hide great dangers and the cold made her roots freeze underneath the ground. She couldn't wait for the embrace of spring and its rain. Were it not for Moder and Gertrude, she would have gone to a much warmer place, but something strange happened to them. The old woman was much more snappish lately, ever since they returned from Transylvania. She was working poor Cody to the bone and any attempts to calm and talk to her were met with resistance from her side. The Nordic Being was affected by her mood, her thoughts seeping into his mind and revealing themselves to him, but he dared not speak about them for the old hag made it clear that she will end him should he open his mouth. Moder didn't want to test her, so he kept silent. He might miss his sister but visiting her as another unfortunate soul that met his end was not his intention. He liked his life, thank you very much.

Inside the cabin, Gertrude was sitting on the sofa, the flames in the fireplace casting shadows on her figure. The pendant she usually wore was resting in her hands, the lid opened to reveal two photos caught carefully in the round frames. One was of a young girl with hair as red as yew berries, small and dense freckles dominating her cheeks, eyes blue as her mother's. The other was of a man with the brightest smile Gertrude ever saw, young and so full of life, with his short hair combed back but a rebel strand kept on falling on his forehead. She recalled the days the three of them would go on a picnic and she would get lost in his dark eyes and her daughter's laughter. So young and so in love, naivety was their middle name and they didn't care. A tear rolled down her cheek as memories flooded her vision. She lost them too soon, too suddenly. She could still hear her child's screaming in pain and terror, see her husband bleeding on the ground and that monster roaring as it was sucking the life out of him. She couldn't move, her feet frozen in place, her voice stuck in her throat. He died. It turned to her. She tried to protect her daughter, wrapping her arms around her to prevent it from reaching her. She begged and pleaded. She was just a child, barely 6 years old! It didn't care. It separated them, throwing the woman away, in the opposite corner of the cave while it devoured the little girl. The screams. Oh! The screams! How she remembered them so well. When it was done with the child, she watched in horror as her limb body fell to the ground, the truth of reality coming crashing down on her. It was over. She had no reason to fight anymore. An earthquake. The cave's ceiling fell in. The monster was gone. She passed out, for how long she didn't know. When she came to be, she was outside, lying in the arms of the Birch, hurting and aching, her heart broken. She might have survived, but she was dead inside. Her family was gone. Her world had shattered. There was no point in living anymore.

The mental hospital. Hm. It did her little good. She was still suffering, the events continuing to play inside her mind every night when she laid awake in bed. Then, she went home. Olaf and friends tried their best to make her feel better, but all their efforts were in vain. The anger and pain never went away, and slowly they were turning into rage. The world she once loved, now it filled her with hate, for it took away that which she loved most. Much to her surprise thought, it returned it in the form of James. His love for the supernatural managed to reawaken the same sparkle inside her and she slowly forgot her hatred, but the pain was still here. She treated him as if he was her own flesh and blood. But the trauma left her mark on her psyche. Despite her love, she was though on him, making him go through the worst of training to strengthen him up, to make sure that he will be stronger, much stronger than she was.