The Moonshawl: A Wraeththu Mythos Novel (23 page)

‘Perhaps it can only be heard
from the Mynd area,’ I said. ‘No matter. I was just curious.’ I paused. ‘I
don’t suppose you know if the Whitemanes have a bell on their estate?’

‘Not that I know of. That’s not
to say they haven’t.’ Yoslyn paused, then spoke in the most forced casual
manner I’d ever heard. ‘I hear you had business with Nytethorne Whitemane
yesterday.’

I looked up. ‘So? Whatever
hienamas in the past were like, I won’t take sides in local feuds.’

Yoslyn regarded me steadily, and
I could see a smile somewhere in the depths of his gaze. ‘You here for him
again today?’ He took a drink. ‘Not that you are like...
previous
hienamas.’

To my great embarrassment I felt
my face flame. I was sure the keephar’s words were a reference to Rey and
perhaps his relationship with Nytethorne. ‘Do I look flighty to you?’ I
snapped.

Yoslyn raised his hands. ‘Ooh, no
offence, tiahaar. Forgive my humour.’ He winked at me. ‘But is the relish perhaps
too hot for you? You look burned.’

I shook my head, smothered a
smile, which was almost as embarrassing as the blush. ‘Your sauce is somewhat
hot,’ I said dryly.

Yoslyn laughed heartily. ‘Good
luck to you, tiahaar!’ He rose from the table and returned to his duties.

For a moment I put my face into
my hands.
No, no, no, no...
I must collect myself. Was I incapable of
learning from my mistakes?

As the afternoon rolled on, hara began to arrive at
The Boar
to eat. There was no sign of Nytethorne, however. I should have
asked Yoslyn if he was likely to appear, but now the keephar was busy as the
bar room filled up with hara ordering meals. I’d arranged for Rinawne to come
over to the tower later on, but decided that while I was in a fighting mood I
should instead go to Meadow Mynd and discreetly investigate the phenomenon Rinawne
had told me about. Wyva would no doubt insist I stay for dinner and then keep
me there far too late, talking, which would make it difficult for Rinawne and I
to have time to meet that night. He wouldn’t be pleased, but for now he’d have
to put up with the situation. There were more important matters to attend to.

I’d finished my meal and the
hubbub in the inn was now starting to get on my nerves. I thought I might as
well leave and go to the Mynd. Confronting Nytethorne would have to wait for
another day, hopefully tomorrow. But as I rose, with the intention of going to
the bar to pay for my meal, I saw through the window Nytethorne tethering his
horse to the rail by the door, where by now many other horses were tethered. I
noticed him glance at Hercules, pause. He must have recognised my horse,
perhaps because the Whitemanes knew everything they possibly could about me.
Did it go through his mind then to untie his mount and ride away? Well, if it
did, he decided against it and came into the inn.

As he reached the bar, he looked
around the room, finally finding me amongst the sea of faces. He inclined his
head, smiled in a hard, uncertain way. I raised my tankard to him, looked away,
out through the window. I was aware my breathing had become fast and shallow
and corrected this forcibly.

From the corner of my eye, I saw
Nytethorne go to the stairs further down the room. He did not look back at me,
and I found his mood difficult to read. Guarded. I waited only a minute or so
before following him. The staff here were very busy. I doubted Nytethorne’s
lunch would be brought to him immediately. Perhaps he too had been at the
fayre.

After I knocked on his door, Nytethorne opened it
to me at once and stared at me in a completely unreadable way.

‘Might I come in?’

‘Why? Our business was finished
yesterday.’

‘Was it, now?’ I pushed past
him, stood in the centre of the room.

Nytethorne closed the door,
pulled himself to his full height, crossed his arms across his breast. ‘You have
more to say?’

I didn’t answer, but flew across
the room and pushed him roughly against the door, one forearm against his
throat. He yelped in surprise.

‘Listen well, tiahaar,’ I said,
pressing my arm hard against him so he could barely breathe. ‘I know your
clan’s little games. The show last night was impressive, but not for one moment
was I deceived. Kindly inform Mossamber of this.’

‘Release me!’ Nytethorne gasped.
‘No idea what you’re saying.’ He struggled, yet strangely did not retaliate.
I’m sure he could have fought me off if he’d wanted to.

‘You think I’m an idiot!’ I
said, but released the pressure a little. ‘I’m not weak, Nytethorne. The horrors
of the abyss have beaten on the doors of my mind many a time in the past.
Whitemane theatrics can’t touch me.’

‘Ysobi,’ he said, with
difficulty. ‘Let go. Tell me what you mean. If I know anything, won’t hold it
from you.’

I lowered my arm, moved away,
but reluctantly. I felt as if I wanted to beat him senseless.

He stared at me. ‘What happened
last night?’

‘An intrusion,’ I said. ‘A
created entity manifested in my tower. The only hara who could possibly have
known upon whom to base that form has to be a Whitemane, for no other around
here knows of him.’

‘And how do
my
hara
know?’ Nytethorne snapped, rubbing his throat with one hand. ‘You’ve had no true
conversation with us.’

I wasn’t prepared to answer that
directly. I too folded my arms defensively. ‘Are you saying that your hara have
had no interest in me since I came here? That they’ve not wished me gone, or at
the very least have sought to unnerve me because Wyva brought me here?’

He had the grace not to lie. ‘Were
curious, yes. Mossamber knew Wyva would try to find somehar powerful. Wyva has
his own plans, Ysobi. He’s not told you.’

‘And what plans are these?’

Nytethorne shook his head. ‘Not
my place to say.’

‘Naturally. It never is
anyhar’s
place to say
anything
around here. I believe Ember was instructed to
intrigue
me in certain ways, either to obstruct my work, confuse or
frighten me. I don’t think he acted alone. Were you part of this?’

Nytethorne looked disgusted.
‘No! Why send my son to do a job I could do myself, a dirty job at that?’

That seemed to indicate he knew
full well everything that had occurred. Self-justification had lowered his
guard. Had there perhaps been an argument over this? ‘You don’t deny Ember invaded
my dreams, then, was in fact instructed to?’

Nytethorne sighed, lowered his
head. ‘I wanted no part of this, Ysobi. Do my share from day to day, a good har
for my family. I’ve no love of Wyvachi but...’

‘Do you know who was responsible
for last night’s entertainment?’

He walked past me to the window,
sat down at the table. ‘No. That is truth. Knew the Cuttingtide plan, that was
all.’

I followed him. ‘Then I
apologise for assaulting you. As you can imagine, my patience is somewhat
frayed.’

He sighed. ‘Understand. Would be
angry too.’ Again, he was avoiding my eyes, staring at the table.

‘They are fools to attack me,’ I
said. ‘I’ve no malice towards the Whitemanes.’ I paused. ‘Nytethorne, don’t you
want this senseless feud to end, as I do? For the sake of your son, and for Myv’s,
why continue it? Blood might not be shed, but a war is going on, beneath the
surface, even in the etheric world. It is for
no reason
. Not now. Think
about the community here, how good things could be if this ridiculous antagonism
could be put to rest.’

He said nothing, still gazing at
the table.

‘You know,
this
is the
downside of longevity. Petty squabbles of the young can take root and last for
centuries. Grow up, Nytethorne!’

He looked up at me then, shook
his head. ‘So much guessing,’ he said.

‘Well, in the absence of hard
fact, what else am I supposed to do?’

‘How about leave well alone and
go away?’

‘I’m not going to do that, so
don’t waste your breath. You think I can ride out of Gwyllion and not have a
second thought for the safety of an innocent harling?’ I sneered at him. ‘Oh,
maybe you
can
think that.’

His eyes flashed with anger. ‘I
do for my son what I must. Part of that is silence and obedience. Pelk your
blood, Wyvachi-called!’

I laughed coldly. ‘Ah, hit a
nerve, did I? That was a ripe insult.’

He put one hand across his eyes,
rested his elbow on the table. ‘You don’t know,’ he said. ‘Squabble isn’t
petty, isn’t now, never was. Beyond our control, but managed by us, as far as
we can. Let loose...?’ He raised his head, gazed at me wearily. ‘You’ve no
idea. Even
we
don’t know. We
contain
...’

‘What? What do you contain?’

He shook his head again.

‘Is it to do with Peredur har Wyvachi?’

Nytethorne looked horrified at
these words, and yet his response was odd. ‘Was never Wyvachi...
Wyvern
,
yes... don’t say that!’

I sat down opposite Nytethorne
at the table, reached out for one of his hands. ‘Listen to me. I have a theory.
The hostility of so many years can create a thoughtform, a being. I’ve seen it,
Nytethorne, at the Pwll Siôl Lleuad. Is this what you refer to, the thing you
can’t contain, the thing you fear is being agitated by Myv’s desire to be
hienama?’

‘What’s out there – never
not
agitated,’ he said, ‘You’re right, in a way. But’s not what you think.’ He
took his hand from mine, yet only after he’d squeezed my fingers briefly. ‘Long
to tell you of it, but mustn’t. Would make things worse.’

‘Who
will
speak to me,
Nytethorne? I believe I can help, but I need more information.’

He laughed bleakly. ‘Only safe
har to speak to is Peredur.’

‘A ghost? I’m sure you know as
well as I such apparitions can’t communicate that clearly.’ He said nothing and
I considered. ‘All right, I can perhaps get more clues and piece them together,
but... just tell me this, no names, just yes or no... Does somehar know
everything I need to hear?’

‘Of course they do!’ he said
abruptly. ‘You already know that. You tried Wyva, didn’t you?’

‘Well...’

‘Mossamber is twice what Wyva is.
Lives in the past, clings to it. Does that fill in a gap, answer a question?’

‘Is he afraid?’

‘No, responsible, maybe. In
love, certainly.’

‘With Peredur, still?’

Nytethorne nodded.

‘The Wyvachi killed him, didn’t
they?’ I asked gently. ‘Don’t answer, just look at me.’

He sighed, but he did look at me.
‘Ysobi, you’re a good har at heart. Can see you’re passionate and mean well,
but wish you’d turn from this tragedy. No good can come of it.’

‘You’re wrong,’ I said. ‘Much
good can come of freeing future generations. There is a solution to everything,
Nytethorne.’ I took his hand again, shook it firmly. ‘Work with me on this. All
I want is your approval and support. I don’t expect you to put yourself in
danger.’

‘You can’t help.’

‘I
can
. I’m not afraid.
Dare to believe I can help.’

He smiled at me sadly. ‘Wish it
was possible.’

There was a moment’s stillness
as we looked at one another. I remembered the day I’d first seen him, my dehar
on the path within the forest, his arrogance. Now, here he was, his eyes open
to me. I let go of his hand, stood up. ‘If you wish me to tell you what I
discover, then I can meet you here again.’

He frowned a little. ‘Yes,
but... They – Mossamber – will find out. Might have already. Yoslyn and his kin
have loose lips.’

‘Then let your family believe
you’re playing me along to see what I’m up to. Don’t try to hide our meetings:
tell them. Even they can surely appreciate this is a more direct and effective
method than creeping into my sleeping mind. Dreams are vague and fleeting. More
can be determined from a meeting face to face.’

He nodded uncertainly. ‘Will
take that risk.’

‘They won’t harm
you
,
will they, Nytethorne?’

He shook his head. ‘My kin
won’t.’ He sighed. ‘Have responsibilities, Ysobi, within my family. Not your
concern. You know where to find me.’

‘That goes for me too,’ I said.
‘The tower.’

‘
That
tower,’ he said and
laughed, slid his eyes away from mine. I realised then he had visited it
regularly, once.

When I left The Boar, I found the day had darkened.
Moody clouds were clotted across the sky and the air was oppressive, the light
almost greenish. As I approached Hercules, the tethered horses suddenly became
spooked, and jostled and grunted uneasily. I could not help but look behind me,
yet nothing was there. For a couple of seconds, a pang speared through me. I
thought of Nytethorne in the room above me. I thought of us touching. No! I
banished the thought, and any associated images, before they could fully form.
This
interest
in Nytethorne could be a further Whitemane attempt to
befuddle me. Yet one thing I knew: in that moment he had thought of me in the
same way.

I untied Hercules, swung into
the saddle, and urged him to canter away, conscious all the time of eyes upon
me, though there was really no way to tell whose eyes they were.

Chapter Thirteen

By the time I reached Meadow Mynd, thunder was
complaining to the west, a storm coming in from the not-too-distant sea.
Lightning shimmered across the clouds like cracks in glass. The ancient
mountains beyond the river valley looked as surly, immense and threatening as
offended gods. Perfect weather in which to investigate a haunting, I thought,
amused. I rode to the stables and left Hercules in the care of Mynd hara, then
went to the house. A few fat drops of rain were beginning to fall. As they
landed upon the ancient sway-backed tiles beneath my feet, they were dark as
blood.

Rinawne met me in the hall. He had
been in the drawing room and had noticed me ride up. ‘The elements conspire!’
he announced, grinning widely. ‘I take it you summoned this storm in order to
provide the right conditions for ghost-hunting!’ He seemed to have recovered
his spirits. I didn’t sense melancholy in him as I had before.

‘I wish I could claim the storm
is mine,’ I said, equally lightly, ‘but sadly no. Yet it
is
appropriate.’

Rinawne took my arm. ‘Let’s have
tea before we begin. I feel like it’s been too long since we saw one another in
private.’

I sensed behind this airy
comment a not too hidden desire to draw something from me – a word of endearment,
perhaps, or an equal admission of missing him. I kissed his cheek briefly,
unable to speak words that would sound sincere. Unfortunately, my mind kept
returning to Nytethorne Whitemane, no matter how hard I pushed such thoughts
away. ‘Have you seen anything in the house since we last spoke?’ I asked,
hoping to divert him.

Rinawne held my gaze
questioningly for a moment, and I dreaded he could see inside me, which could
not be possible, for I’d raised every defence it’s possible for a har to have.
‘Well, it’s ongoing,’ he said, in a cooler tone than before. ‘A feeling of unfriendly
presence, of watchfulness. There are accidents all the time.’

‘To hara?’

Rinawne shrugged. ‘To
everything. Plates breaking, soot on the floors, birds trapped in rooms when
there was no way they could get in. Then, there are the little injuries.
Nothing like Gen’s but...’ He let go of my arm and held out his hands to me. I
saw cuts upon his fingers, still red. ‘Knives are alive,’ he said.

I took his hands, held them
briefly, sent a soft surge of healing energy into him. ‘Something’s building
up,’ I said, ‘like this storm yearning to break.’

‘I feel that too,’ Rinawne said,
taking his hands from mine and rubbing his fingers. ‘My dreams have been
troubled. But the worst of it...’ He sighed. ‘I felt it in Myv’s room. Twice.
Menacing.’

‘Did you ask Myv about it?’

‘Of course. He said he hadn’t
noticed anything, but I know he’s lying. Ys, I’m afraid for him.’

‘What about Wyva and the others?
Have you mentioned it to them?’

Rinawne shook his head. ‘There’s
no point. I know what Wyva would say, which is to belittle my fears. Gen would
make a joke of it and Cawr and Modryn look at me as if I’ve grown extra eyes.’

I smiled a little. ‘You should
protect yourself. I’ll tell you how if you really can’t remember.’

‘Oh, I remember,’ he said,
brightening a little once more. ‘I’m not afraid for myself, but for Myv. Tell
me what must be done and I’ll do it.’ He took my arm once more. ‘Come, let’s
talk in a more private place.’

He led me to the conservatory,
after asking one of the house-hara to bring us tea. Here, we could watch the
storm, which was prowling ever closer.

Until our refreshments arrived,
we made small talk. Rinawne spoke of Myv and how he was looking forward greatly
to the first of his lessons. Then the house-har arrived with the tea tray, and after
his departure Rinawne broached the subject he was clearly itching to talk about,
knowing we would not have any further interruptions.

‘Have you found out anything
more about the secret past?’ he asked, pouring tea for me.

‘Not much. Nothing that we
hadn’t already worked out for ourselves, but I’ll tell you my thoughts. In the
chaos of the early days, amid all that senseless fighting, Peredur Wyvern was
slain. I think he might’ve had an attachment to Mossamber Whitemane, and that
somehow Peredur’s own kin were responsible for his death. But knowing what I do
of the Wyvachi, and what I sensed about Medoc when I met him, I can’t credit
this was some deliberate cruel or evil act. An accident, perhaps? It’s hard to
know for certain, because hara weren’t quite themselves in the early days.
Anything is possible. Was Peredur’s attachment to Mossamber seen as some kind
of betrayal? Were rival factions competing for power in this area? These things
are likely. I believe a combination of them is what lies behind the hostility
between the families.’

Rinawne had listened patiently,
now he said, somewhat sardonically, ‘A love story. How quaint.’

‘Love is a chaotic force,’ I
said. ‘It might be the noblest of emotions, but in its darkest form can raze
nations.’

Rinawne uttered a cold laugh and
said mordantly. ‘How outrageous that is.’

I felt I should steer the
conversation away from this topic. ‘So, my belief, if somewhat unformed as yet,
is that the toxic energy, which has permeated this land for so long, has
somehow coalesced into a malevolent force, in which both Whitemanes and Wyvachi
believe, and this has extended to the local population. They are afraid of it,
and in the Whitemanes’ case perhaps also believe they are custodians who must
contain it.’

‘How do you know that?’ Rinawne
asked sharply. ‘Have you spoken to any of them?’

I realised the folly of a lie.
‘I have spoken to Nytethorne Whitemane, yes, but not in any great depth. He
resists me, as you can imagine.’

‘No, I can’t actually,’ Rinawne
said icily.

‘Anyway, I didn’t go to the
house. I spoke to him in Gwyllion.’

‘What did he tell you?’

‘Hardly anything. It was like
pulling teeth. He would answer questions if pressed, but I felt as if I were
playing some kind of game, where only the right questions would produce an
answer.’

‘Wasn’t a brief conversation,
then?’

I blinked at him. ‘Rinawne, I
detect a note of condemnation in your voice. What’s the matter?’

‘Wyva won’t be pleased you’ve
spoken with a Whitemane.’

I stared at him mutely for some
moments. ‘If there’s a threat in those words, I’m puzzled by it. Wasn’t it
you
who suggested I speak to the Whitemanes? I only did as you advised.’

Rinawne put his hands against
his eyes briefly. ‘Oh, I’m being stupid, I know. I can’t help it.’

‘I don’t understand.’ This
wasn’t exactly true, but I was acutely aware there was something I wanted to
hear him say.

He shook his head. ‘You know, I
don’t think you’re aware of what you are, how you affect hara.’

‘Oh, believe me, I am,’ I said,
with some bitterness. ‘I strive now to affect them minimally.’

Rinawne uttered a snort. ‘You
might as well give up. Nytethorne Whitemane... is... No, I won’t say it.’

‘I insist you
do
!’

He sighed. ‘Now I’ve angered
you. I’m sorry. It’s just I know you’re only lent to me by life. I won’t have
much time with you. I’m no Nytethorne, I know that. He
will
desire you,
Ys. How could he not? Look at you: tall, beautiful, strong, with eyes like the
forest. Your hair...’ He reached out as if to touch it, curled his fingers into
a fist, withdrew. I couldn’t help pushing my hair back over my shoulders, out
of reach. ‘You are... amazing, Ys. As beautiful as the Whitemanes believe
themselves to be. Yet not proud or vain about it. Do you ever
look
at yourself?’

I felt embarrassed. My looks,
whatever hara thought of them, had never brought me happiness. ‘No,’ I said.
‘Doesn’t interest me.’

Rinawne closed his eyes for a
moment, sighed again. ‘A stag in the forest, unaware of his own beauty. And
Nytethorne...’ He grimaced. ‘Another fine animal, full of himself, yet
glorious. I’m not stupid. How could you not desire him? If there are two hara
in this county that have “pair” written on them, it’s you and he.’

‘Don’t talk such rubbish,’ I
said. ‘Honestly, Rinawne, I’m not looking dreamily for an idealised lover. Have
you learned nothing about me?’ But despite these stern, disapproving words, he
had of course said exactly what my more honest – and foolish – inner self
wanted to hear. My body filled with a pleasant warmth and, basking in this
richness, I felt benevolent and reached out for Rinawne’s hand. ‘Please don’t
think this way. Emotions will cloud our judgement and our minds need to be
sharp for what we’re trying to do.’

Rinawne’s shoulders slumped. ‘I
know. I said I’m sorry. But you asked, and I’ve told you.’ Tears spilled from
his eyes and he made a sound of self-reproach, tried to brush his tears away.

This was not good. Rinawne had
already shown possessive tendencies and the last thing I needed was a vengeful,
jealous har on my hands.

‘Rin,’ I said carefully. ‘I
think we need to talk.’

He continued to wipe his wilfully
brimming eyes with the hem of his shirt. ‘You’re going to say something bad,
aren’t you? I’m not sure I want to hear it.’

I still held his hand. ‘Look, I
explained to you how things were with me at the start. You have your life in
Gwyllion, and I’ll probably be simply a brief interlude for you. But don’t
harbour bad feelings towards me because of that. You’ve reached me in a way
I’ve not experienced for years. You’ve helped me live again, and I hope we’ll
always be friends.’ Inside, I groaned. Had I not said similar things to
Gesaril, once? How in Aru’s name had I ended up in the same situation? I’d
tried so hard not to. But the fact was I
had
loved Gesaril, but hadn’t
been able to pursue it, for so many reasons. I did not, nor ever had, loved
Rinawne. Now I had to limit the damage in some way. I realised that Rinawne was
absolutely right in his assumptions and I didn’t want him becoming an impediment.
If he should betray me to Wyva... well, I didn’t want to think about that.

I stood up and went to crouch
beside Rinawne’s chair, taking him into an embrace. He shuddered rigidly for
some moments, then relaxed against me.

‘Come now,’ I said softly,
hugging him and kissing his hair, ‘don’t be sad.’  I pushed him away a little,
still holding onto his arms, and smiled at him. ‘Let’s get on with our
investigations, psychic sleuths as we are!’

Rinawne nodded, said in a voice
striving to be steady, ‘We’ve got all afternoon, Wyva’s out. But he’ll want you
to stay this evening unless you leave here before he gets back, and I
thought... tonight....’

‘Let’s appease Wyva today,’ I
said, squeezing Rinawne’s arms. ‘We can have a whole night to ourselves tomorrow.
Come over for dinner.’

‘Well, OK.’ Rinawne seemed to
cheer a little.

I went back to my seat, picked
up my teacup. ‘So, tell me what’s happened here in detail.’

Rinawne blew his nose on the
tea-tray cloth, grinned a little at this, then said to me, ‘It was on the day
of the festival, mid-morning. I was taking breakfast with Wyva – everyhar else
was already out and about or eating elsewhere in the house. He left to start
work on the preparations for the festival and I sat there to finish my coffee.
That’s when it crept up on me – this
disgusting
feeling. You know I’m
not scared by these things, but in those moments, I was a harling again,
running from a banshee in the dark. What I felt was not impartial. It was
breathing down my neck.’

‘Did you see anything?’

Rinawne frowned, considered. ‘Difficult
to tell. I felt light-headed, disorientated. The air seemed to shimmer, but
whether that was the fault of my own eyes or something outside myself, I don’t
know for sure. I couldn’t move. I
prayed
for release, Ys, but not to a
dehar, to Daghda. Maybe that old god heard me, maybe he gave me strength, but
my prayer broke the spell. I ran from that room at once.’ He shook his head.
‘Horrible feeling, and I resent it happening to me in my own home. I hated
being powerless against it. I’m not easily scared, and maybe what I felt wasn’t
exactly fear, but it was fierce.’

I didn’t doubt Rinawne’s
capability to withstand an etheric attack because he was – as far as I knew –
very strong in that respect. The mere fact this entity possessed the power to
affect him physically was worrying. So far, I’d scorned the idea it had any
weapon other than fear. If the entity possessed the power to paralyse a body,
how far could that go – a stilling of the heart, a stifling of the lungs?

‘So what’s happened since?’

‘Well, for a start I’ve not
returned to that room. I feel it’s where the energy is strongest. Wyva clearly
doesn’t feel it, which is strange, but I’m glad of that. Other hara in the
house appear to avoid the room, perhaps even without realising it. For me,
there’s a weird sense of being watched – everywhere, even in the gardens. And
of course, I felt something in Myv’s room, as I said. Did something get invited
in, Ys? Did the festival cause this? Or Medoc being here?’

‘A combination of it all, I
think. Take me to the breakfast room. I’ll go in alone.’

‘You don’t have to. I’d feel
safe with you there.’

‘No, let me see what happens. If
there’s anything there, I’ll pick up on it. If there’s nothing, it could
indicate the manifestation is directed at you personally.’

‘Now there’s a comforting
thought!’

‘I’m fairly sure it’s not that.’

Once inside the breakfast room, I closed the door
behind me, leaving Rinawne in the corridor outside. The room appeared normal at
first, although by now rain was coming down hard, so the light was dim. Thunder
grumbled occasionally, and through the window I could see forked tongues of
lightning licking the sky above the trees. The atmosphere of the storm alone
made the atmosphere oppressive.