Although the day was hot and humid in central Iowa, the billowing charcoal clouds that tumbled in from the southwest brought with them a ferocious and chilling wind. Sharp daggers of flashing silver, originating from every corner of the sky, sliced through the swollen canopy, and were followed by rolling booms which boisterously announced the arrival of the massive summer storm. In the distance, the haunting wail of tornado sirens stirred anxiousness in the mind of one unfamiliar with the weather and routines of the Midwestern United States. Mikil Tu Shadow crouched among the black skeletons of burnt plants, the tangled piles of splintered homes, and the acres of dusty gray ash in Glenhill, alert...on edge...and waiting.
