Reaper man, reaper man is coming to tear

Modesty had been ripped from her sleep by the sound of cracking timber. A quick check of the treehouses let her know it wasn't within the relatively sheltered ravine, its steep slopes providing a natural buffer to the violent winds, but that only heightened her anxiety. If it hadn't been here, then where was it?

The storm bore down upon the ocean with a fury matched only by the wrath of ancient gods. Waves rose like monstrous beasts, their crests crowned with frothy white fury as they crashed against one another in a cacophony of chaos. Lightning lanced across the brooding sky, illuminating the churning waters below with its jagged brilliance. The wind screamed through the air, tearing at trees and whipping the sea into a frenzy. Amidst the tumult, there was a sense of raw power, untamed and unyielding, as if the very elements themselves were engaged in a primal dance of destruction. In the heart of the tempest, there was a beauty too, a wild and untamed allure that beckoned with a siren's call, drawing the fearless and the foolish alike into its perilous embrace.

Perhaps it was that call that had the heavily pregnant leader pacing along the beach, eyes squinting against the onslaught of frigid rain, the weight of it cutting visibility across the passage towards the Hallows, the castle obscured by a heavy haze of grey. As if in answer to the unyielding thunder overhead, the small lives in her belly stretched and kicked. She could hardly discern their fluttering from the butterflies that danced in her belly at each thunderous boom.

Just as she was about to give up, and retreat back to the warmth of her treehouse fireplace and Jael, the first of the flotsam appeared. Lips tight, she lengthened her stride, taking in the planks and ropes, bits of broken timber washing toward the Fjord. Distant baying... Had Kenway been out in this weather? She wouldn't put it past him... And that certainly sounded like his dogs barking further down the beach.

Heart in her throat, Modesty did her best to hurry towards where the cattle dogs barked. Out there, being tossed by the storm stoked waters, floated a wolf, visibility too poor to tell who it was. Memories of her last labour, or almost drowning washed over her as she launched into the frigid water, not yet, there was still a bit of time yet, it wouldn't happen again. She'd be fine, they'd all be fine, as long as whoever was floating out there made it to land before they smashed against the rocks that lined the Fjord.

"speech"