The wind rustled the tall stocks of grass. It was subtle now, barely a breeze, but the dark gray clouds on the horizon promised something more.

Flashes high in the sky, lightning behind the clouds,

turned the iron color to something brighter,

illuminating the rolling hills to the east.

Thunder boomed in the distance,

barely audible over the wind,

the lowing of the cattle, and the neighing of the horses.

The wind blew harder. Another peal, louder than those before, surprised the girl. She looked up from

her milking, the cow still chewing contentedly and glanced at the clouds.

The sky god, Papaya, the shaman culten, was angry today.

If he was truly displeased, those clouds were the

Harbingers of a massive thunderstorm.

Lightning would spark the tinder dry summer grasses,

turning the great step into a sea of fire.

The thunder grew louder, the flashes of lightning more frequent.

The wind was howling now, shoving the stalks of grass this way and that.

The cattle were becoming agitated. A gust blew off the girl's tall pointed hat, the red felt one

she was so proud of, sending it flying into the midst of the herd. She followed that. She

could see her father and brother a little way off, yelling, gesturing at each other, trying to decide how to manage the cattle.

Their horses were stamping at the ground, their eyes growing wide with fear, and the writers were sawing on the bridles to keep them from running off.

That was when she heard the hooves, hundreds of them.

Like the storm, they were coming from the east, backlit by the flashes of lightning,

...