Both of them rushed out of the door, they glanced heavenward, and Anasthasia squinted her eyes.
'Another isolation barrier, bigger than this place and a strong one at that.'
All of a sudden, dark clouds converged, shrouding the bright sun. The lightning flickered aglow before the orchestral thunders boomed the sky and rattled the very ground she stood. She took a step back and noticed the strong winds howled—rage and disorderly—even the tallest trees and shrubs bow and kiss the smitten meadows, clearly at its mercy.
A downpour, tapping her skin with coldness. In her clothes turned heavy and sagged her body.
The wind blew harder, unbridled her hair, and fluttered amidst the turbulence. Its onslaught played along with torrential rain, like an impenetrable salvo of projectiles, so unrhythmic and whipping smites upon her. She then covered her face as the lightning gleamed brightly, multiple times, and turned around.
