25 years ago . . . . . .


Thunder rumbled over the thick forest. In a clearing by the base of a
steep cliff, a vast encampment of Thunderians prepared for the rain.
Though there was a pall of gloom over the group, and many of the
warriors sported fresh wounds, the atmosphere was not one of despair,
but of stoic resignation. True; they were homeless, thier numbers were
diminished and they were without a leader, but these things would
pass. They were Thunderians; they were warriors; they wouldn't let a
little thing like total defeat and exile keep them down for long.

A little space away from the camp, a sabertooth woman stood on a small
hillock looking at the sky. The wind seemed to coil around her,
whipping her long mane and cloak in crazy directions. One such pass
revealed her belly was distended and swollen; she would bear a cub soon.

A brawny sabertooth warrior with a bandage over one eye jogged out
towards her.
"My Lady! Come back to the tents; you'll catch your death out here."
He called. The woman laughed.

"I mean it," The warrior protested. "His lordship told me to look
after you and look after you I shall."

"You've done a splendid job, Woden." The woman chuckled. "But your
time of caring for me is close to an end. Soon your expertise in care
will be passed along to my daughter." Woden frowned. With anyone
else, he would have protested such a macabre statement, but this was
Lady Galanta; she knew of things unseen by normal Thunderians. Woden
had never known her to be wrong.

"Lady, come back to the tents," he coaxed gently. Galanta turned her
eyes back to the sky.

"The stars are in an auspicious alignment," Galanta stated. "Tonight I
shall give birth to the princess of the Sabertooth Clan. She will be
wise and strong, and much loved by her people. She will put her people
before herself and see with eyes unclouded by hatred. Help her to be
so, Woden."

"You're in labor now?! I-I'll get the midwife--!"

"Woden! Will you help my daughter?!"

"Wh- well, of course! Let me-"

"Do not bother with her. You have a sharp blade on you, do you not?"
Woden's hand went to the dagger at his belt. It was sharp enough to
cut shadow.

"As always," He answered, not liking where this conversation was going.

"Good. Alas, I will not be around to see her born. But she will shake
the world without my help." Galanta's eyes narrowed, scowling up at
the stars. "And without yours, you silly old fool."

The next moment was full of light and noise. It was a second Woden
would remember until his dying day. The whole camp saw the seer
Galanta struck down by a bolt of lightning. Many ran forward to help,
but it was too late. Woden knew as he looked down at her body that she
was already dead. His gaze fell on her belly even as his hand was
drawing his knife from it's sheath.
"I'll never fear thunder again," he muttered under his breath. "It is
lightning that does the work."