“As soon as that passes,” the Naga nodded out into the prairie, “we have to move on. Better try to get some rest.”
Both knew it was impossible to get rest while the storm raged all around them. Crunching noise above their heads startled them. A moment after fleeing from underneath the tree a branch was torn off by the winds, fell and was dragged by the wind. “Perhaps we should move now anyways.”
Barely having finished her sentence, Elenora followed Venias terrified glance into the vast prairie below. A hose of wind wandered through the prairie with devastating effects on the tall grass. It left behind a wake of destruction and bare earth, not a single blade of grass was left standing. Roaring it tore through where they originally had intended to wait the storm out.
With an uneasy feeling in their stomachs they all watched the hose wander around, but it veered off, away from the hills.
“To the mountains.” Venia shouted, unwilling to take any risk with the violent nature of the prairie.
From a distance a dark figure watched with great disdain for the foreigners as the trek started heading towards the mountains.
As the foreigners moved closer the figure turned to its peers and gave the signal.

It was more a reaction of instinct, than one of the conscious mind. As in the far off forest of the mountain slopes, barely visible through the fiercely blown rain, a hundred tiny fires lit up and sped towards the group. Venia had thrown herself atop Elenora to cover her from the incoming fire. Over the shoulder of the Naga Elenora saw that other Naga and some Albin rose a shield to defend against the attack. As she fell forced down by her Naga sister of choice she noticed a gap in the shield that closed slowely.
Too slow for the incoming fire.
In their fall Elenora rolled, writhing in Venias tight embrace, feeling the heat of the incoming discharge on her back she smiled down on Venia.
Pain. Venias shocked expression, love and immense pain before the darkness fell.
A last hiss: “I love you, sister.”