After the storm, everything tasted like salt to Jarrah. A storm was a funny thing to call it, he thought only after he had caught himself referring to it as such. It wasn’t so much of a storm as- he reconsidered. He hadn’t exactly known what happened, so calling it a storm was really all he could do.

It stormed the night they fled Siwa- the night of his long-dreaded wedding. The sky had been clear during the actual nuptials- it was only after the ceremony that the sky opened up upon them. Jarrah forced himself not to think of what had happened to cause such a drastic change in weather- not only because he feared what had happened to him, but because he feared what he had done. The storm, at the very least, had been his fault- his decision, his sin that was such a tear in the canvas frame of nature that it ripped the very sky open. He had cried, and the rain flooding his city’s streets were his tears. The sky had cried with him, and that was frightening.

Jarrah stayed silent during the first leg of the long journey out of Siwa. He had only a vague idea of where they were going- Kavya and Kamalani had discussed, in hushed, worried tones, that they were all going to escape to Noho Ali’i until the situation blew over and they were all ready to move on. “Until Jarrah’s back to his normal self.” He had heard Kamalani say when they were certain he wasn’t listening. It was a long trip from the desert to the sea, even on Teya’s dragon, and they had to stop for the night in the mountains north-east of Jarrah’s home.