Tempesta dashed across the meadow. She stabbed the wet grass with long metal stakes as she ran, forming a network of upturned glass jars on iron poles. She ducked between the rusty trees of her makeshift forest with practised ease. Fat raindrops exploded in her black hair.
"I'll kill him, I'll actually kill him this time," she muttered.
She glared at the dark outline of the house among the trees. Tempesta swore she saw Tonitru silhouetted against an upstairs window. She hoped her younger brother saw her venomous look. Even if he escaped her wrath, he wouldn’t escape that of Father.
A rumble of thunder rolled around the swollen purple sky. The ground vibrated beneath her feet, spurring on a fresh burst of speed. Tempesta put the trees and the house behind her, racing out across open grass. Lightning lit the undersides of the bruised thunderheads.
"No no no! Not yet! I'm not ready!" Tempesta shouted at the sky.
She rammed the final stake home as jagged claws of lightning tore open the clouds. Tempesta threw herself away from the metal pole as the electricity struck. The glass glowed green as the lightning snaked between the iron stakes. The jars hissed and spat as the raw energy made contact. Tempesta allowed herself a smile; the lightning coiled in the glass urns, humming a low note from the Song of Storms. The thunder coughed and spluttered overhead, the clouds rippling and breaking apart.
Tempesta sat back on the grass to watch the growing patches of blue sky. She thought of the broken storm casket, lying at Tonitru's feet. His penitent and fearful face swam before her eyes. She thumped the grass with a tired fist. The storm averted, Tonitru may have escaped their Father’s wrath, but Tempesta vowed that she would never allow her little brother to play in her room again.