Devoted

The Lightning's Reckoning

Thunder crashes rattling the glass in the window panes of the house. Florence jumps back, her eyes popping open as she stands abruptly, forcing Hans to his feet to move out of her way.

"The cows! They need to be brought up before it floods, in town they said it would flood. Oh, why didn't I do this when the rain was moving in?" She cries moving past him, her steps down the stairs growing faint. She manages to call up, "Stay inside!"

Hans snorts, rolling his eyes up to the heavens. Leave it to the hand of something greater than him to ruin the day. Shaking his head in annoyance he goes after Florence as the sound of rain pelting the tin roof starts. By the time he reaches the coat rack, the rain is falling in sheets so thick he can barely make out the barn. Pulling his coat on and popping the collar he rushes out calling for her, "Florence!"

Having been around long enough to figure out routines he isn't worried that Ron will be coming out of his cottage tonight. Even if the older man did come out, the rain and cows would be a good distraction for him to get away. Perhaps it would even be better for him to be caught? The older man would want to protect Florence and handle it discreetly allowing her to live without the blemish of housing an enemy soldier. To not be seen as a collaborator. God forbid she would even be hurt for helping him.

There is no answer over the din of the rain as he reaches the barn. He curses under his breath as he makes his way down to the pastures. Rain already soaking through his trousers, mud sucking at his boots trying to rip them from his feet. He shields his eyes from the stinging raindrops searching for Florence. Then comes the lowing of cattle and he can just make out the shape of the five cows ambling up through the muddy field. Slipping on the wet ground they are wall eyed as they head towards shelter.

"Up! Up!" Florence yells, her voice barely audible over the rain, lowing cattle, and rumbling thunder.

Hans runs toward the small herd and Florence. A crack of lightning flashes through the sky as if slicing the heavens open before a roaring crack fills the air. All the hair along his body stands at attention as he glances up, the sky flashing as a bolt strikes the ground between him and Florence. The sound is deafening the smell of something burning stings his nostrils and everything tells him to run away. But Florence is out there and he pushes forward, now sprinting for her.

Nausea overcomes him as he passes the burned corpse of a cow. The smell emitting from the singed beast is foul. Turning away from the carnage he rushes to her and he's sure his heart will tear from his chest as he reaches Florence, she is curled around herself on the muddy ground. The cows, maddened by the sound are running all around, she could have been trampled. Falling to his knees next to her; impervious to the cold water and muck seeping in through his trousers, he grabs her shoulders and shakes. His relief comes like an onslaught of enemy fire as she lifts her head, wide eyes staring at him in shock and fear.

Wrapping his arms around her he hauls her to her feet keeping her tucked into him. She's shaking and soaked through as he checks her over pushing down his rising panic that he might have lost her. Once he's sure she is fine he lets her go and yanks his coat off before helping her into it. Her clothes are still wet beneath but his coat should help preserve some warmth for her. "To barn." He says grasping the collar of the coat and leaning down to look into her eyes.

"No, we-we have to get the cows first!"

Hans can see by her set jaw that she has made up her mind and he refuses to put her in more danger by fighting over it. Best to get the cows and her into the barn as quickly as possible. He nods and pushes her towards the barn and in the vicinity of two calmer cows standing with their heads lowered against the downpour. They are still wild-eyed but steady and he thinks she can manage. Keeping an eye on her slow pace back to the barn along with the cows he works to settle the other two as he pushes them away to the barn. His clothes are soaked through in a matter of minutes clinging against his skin, the cold numbing his fingers. Swiping back the hair plastered to his forehead making rivulets of water run down his brows into his eyes as he finally reaches the barn and secures the cows into the dry lot.