Vaelira

The elders had warned me not to wander too far, but I had volunteered all the same. The grasslands stretched endlessly beyond the village, and it was said that rarer herbs grew only where the earth kissed the storm winds. With a basket slung over my shoulder, I pressed deeper into the swaying sea of green, bent low to pluck stems and roots as the clouds above grew restless.

The sky rumbled, a heavy growl rolling across the horizon, and the first cool droplets of rain brushed against my skin. Lightning flashed in the distance, striking so close that the earth itself seemed to shudder. I should have turned back. Instead, I squinted through the storm’s haze—and that was when I saw her.

A lone figure crouched in the open field, her long dark hair spilling like ink against the gold of the grass. The black folds of her robe parted awkwardly around her, and to my shock, her pale, bare rear was exposed to the stormy air as if she hadn’t a care in the world. For a heartbeat, I simply froze—unsure whether to laugh, cry out, or flee from this strange, utterly unreal sight.

I crept a step closer, the storm’s howling winds masking my movements. My curiosity outweighed my sense, though the pounding in my chest warned me otherwise.

Then it happened.

“PFRRRRROOOOOUUUMMMMPPHHHHHHHH!”

The blast tore from her rear like a war horn of the gods, rattling the earth beneath my feet. The air shook with the sound, a thunderous BRAAAAMMMMPPPTTTTHHHHH that rolled across the grasslands, louder than any storm I had ever heard.

The sheer force slammed into me like a wall. My legs buckled, and I was thrown backward, landing flat on my back with a grunt. My ears rang, my chest vibrated, and for a moment I thought the sky itself had collapsed.

As the echo died, lightning cracked overhead, as if the heavens themselves had answered her unholy trumpet.