Most would flee, but Ganco strapped on his leather goggles and checked the seals on Andi’s harness. Legends spoke of the Heart of the Gale , a pocket of absolute calm at the center of the storm where rare, glowing frost-flowers grew. These flowers were the only cure for the sleeping sickness ravaging the lowland villages.
Ganco and Andi had returned from the breath of the storm, carrying the light of the Burya to those who had lost all hope. ganco_andi_burya
One evening, the horizon turned a bruised purple. The air grew unnaturally still, the kind of silence that precedes a landslide. Ganco felt the hair on his arms rise. Andi let out a low, vibrating growl that rattled the tea tins in their yurt. The Burya was coming. Most would flee, but Ganco strapped on his
Hours felt like days. The cold bit through layers of wool and hide. Just as Ganco’s knees began to buckle, the screaming wind abruptly died. They had breached the eye. Ganco and Andi had returned from the breath
Ganco knelt, his breath hitching in the sudden warmth of the eye. He harvested only what was needed, whispering a prayer of thanks to the Burya. Andi sat vigil, his amber eyes reflecting the celestial glow.
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