Chills run across her skin as a storm rolls in. She can feel it in her bones, even though it looks bright and sunny now the smell of the air and change in the wind. Some call her Rain Caller, Enchanter of Rain, she always knows when it will come but just the smell of a breeze. She estimated now it would be a full out thunder storm before dusk. She moved her skirts as she settled herself on top of a grassy hill. The grass prickled her bare legs but she did not pay any attention, she watched in silent mediation as the clear day disappeared and black clouds appeared on the horizon. When the clouds finally came nearly over her she lifted her skirts and started walking casually down the hill towards her humble cottage. She gathered some firewood while it still was dry and placed it inside her front oak door and allowed herself to be blessed by the first drops of rain over her home. They kissed her skin like a new born babe, the cool droplets leaving goose flesh in their wake. A huge smile broke her tranquil face as life seeped into the dry ground beneath her and into her soul. Rain was life, rain was everything, rain she could always count on.
Her smile drifted at that thought. Why did her memories always have to ruin a wondrous moment. Rain was a miracle and she should never let spoiled memories ruin it. She forced the smile back on her face and thanked the gods for this miracle before stepping inside the cobble stone home she had fixed up years ago. She could always count on her home to need fixing up too, she thought to herself. It was a chore she never truly minded either. Constant repair to her leaking roof, or drafty windows or the weeding in the garden. She always had liked her solitude but the other times it became very lonely. The repair to the house was one thing that kept her too preoccupied to dwell on her loneliness. The rain she used as her comfort. She rarely went into town. Most of her supplies she grew or trapped herself but those rare moments she was forced to make the walk into town felt always like a walk of shame.
Rain Caller was her name when the people wanted her wisdom, if they needed a rain to come or for the rains to stop, but otherwise she was seen as unnatural. The word filled her stomach with a thought of nauseousness when she realized her best cooking pot had worn a hole in it and she needed the blacksmith. Her mind was reeling of how she could get away with needing her pot, but it was only excuses. She knew she had to go but she would be darned if she did not make this her last. She was going to finally escape her gift, and make the life she always wanted.