Rhoana burst out of the hut and broke into a swift run. She paid little attention to the villagers escaping their homes after the dying of the storm and ran toward the village’s great lodge which housed the council’s elder.

Storms like these last many days in Forochel, it is always wise to prepare the homesteads with lasting food, water and warmth. It had been a long stretch this time, this storm, though they were unsure the exact amount of days. The hut was dark except for the flicker of light from the large fire, the whole family was sat about it, conversations had been lead and driven, though one did not participate.

There was quite a commotion running through the village, the winds had picked up and the barrage against the homes and shelters more apparent. Wood was gathered and food brought indoors, hides and furs in piles and bundles. Rhoana watched as her family rushed about her, organising their means of survival for the coming storm.