Ellie

Ahead stretched a wide plain. Sparse trees swayed in time with gusts of wind. The day was clear, and nothing foretold a storm.

So today I was without storm armor and expected a calm walk. But the Gods, apparently, did not expect me to expect that, and sent a storm. Yes. In general, storms are an extremely rare phenomenon here. The last storm was almost two hundred years ago. But judging by the fact that storm armor was still being sold, it was something dangerous.

Judging by what I saw from the hill, extremely dangerous.

The plain stretching ahead was slowly being eaten by a wall of rain black as soot. The storm was still far away, but in the city there wasn’t a single open window left, and all doors were sealed. Those who weren’t ready for a storm left, gathering their belongings four days ago. And I stayed. Back home, in the Crystal Swamps, storms are a common thing. Maybe not as strong — we don’t usually have to replant trees or reroof houses — but no less beautiful. I stood and admired the clouds ahead. Lightning stitched them together like golden threads. I recalled the words of one of our wonderful poets: “Bunsa kari kirana krunza.” In the local tongue it means: “I love a storm at the end of spring.” Oh, how I understand him. This storm reminded me of home, of my beloved, whom I now saw only three months a year, of our wonderful places…

But I drifted off — the storm was approaching very fast. The thunderclaps shook the trees, leaves fell, and stunned mice dropped to the ground in piles. It was time to go to shelter.

I cast a regretful last glance at the plain lit by flashes of lightning and trudged to the nearest house.

Luckily, on my walk I hadn’t gone more than ten meters from the city, so it wasn’t far.

Reaching the door, I knocked. The house was small; it looked like farmers lived there — it stood on the very outskirts, near the fields. The door was opened by a little girl from Kansas.

She stood and silently looked at me.

“And where are your parents?” I was curious. It looked like she hadn’t managed to leave the city.

“Ellie,” she curtsied in a ceremonial bow.

“‘Ellie’?” I was slightly surprised.

“Well, now we’re acquainted. My parents forgot to pick me up, and they don’t allow me to talk to strangers,” she seemed delighted at the chance to talk, “but you come in quickly, we need to lock the door before the storm!”

She thoughtfully stepped aside, and I squeezed into the doorway, simultaneously knocking down the doorframe.

“Oh! I probably shouldn’t have come in,” I looked at her apologetically.

“Probably. Well, never mind, I’ll meet Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman, haven’t seen them in ages. And we’ll see the Wizard too,” she shrugged. “Not the first time.”

The girl seemed tough. But I didn’t like the way she said “we’ll see.”

“Well, I guess I’ll go; sorry about the door again,” I started squeezing back out.

“STOP!” Her shout was like a sonic tank firing. I froze in place.

“Excuse me, don’t you want to go there with me?” A titanium alloy rang in her voice. “The Lion, having gotten courage, has grown conceited. You could take his place,” she smiled innocently.

“Ellie, sorry, I’m afraid I can’t — business, you know,” it was time to get out of here.

She wanted to say something else, but a thunderclap drowned her words. The wall of rain was already a hundred meters away. Behind it I saw a tornado funnel with horror.

“Happy flying!” I lunged out the door and ran with all my might to the neighboring house. Fortunately it was more of a fortress and belonged to one of the parliamentarians.

Here I didn’t even have to knock — they noticed me and threw the doors open. Entering, out of the corner of my eye I saw Ellie’s little house lift into the air and spin in the hurricane…

Luckily, in the house they let me into there was neither Ellie nor other celebrities. Only my acquaintances from Parliament — apparently they planned to spend the storm playing preferans. They seated me separately, in the kitchen — for which I thanked them. They were in the living room, and from there from time to time indignant cries were heard like “What negotiations?!” and “They’ll deceive us!”

All evening and the rest of the day I diligently performed the Filling, no one disturbed me, and only when from the living room they shouted in unison “Invasion!”, Afanasy came in and asked:

“Yeah or no?”

“Yes,” I answered without hesitation. “And what’s it about?”

“Doesn’t matter, you wouldn’t figure it out anyway,” he sighed heavily and left.

I didn’t understand what he meant by that phrase. But it probably wasn’t all that important.