I walked with confidence even though I could feel my hands shaking with fear. The storm that was brewing was right over the village crops now. It was a village I had never visited and I was afraid they would stop me. Not all the people knew what I as; most of those who did know what I did thought it was a just myth. As I drew closer I thought over just want it was that I did, just what I would have to say to get them to let me near the crops.

I followed storms, thunder storms with lots of lightning g to be exact. I drew lightning from the sky and redirected it to protect the people. On some rare occasions I destroyed. But I had only done that once, and it was not the case for these people; I would do my best to keep these people safe. Well, as long as they let me. Some people rejected my offering of help.

I held my head high and let my feet carry me to the place where the Shaman would be. Respect always helped the people accept me. My feet had done their work for I found myself standing in front of not only the Shaman, but also the Chief and some of his warriors. I had hoped to only meet with the Shaman. So much for that. Nonetheless I bowed first to the Shaman with the deepest bow. The Chief and his braves came next.

This was always the tricky part, if I addressed the Chief I offended the Shaman risked an attack, but if I addressed the Shaman the Chiefs had a habit of running me out of town. I had always been lucky enough that my teacher was always there when we were run out of town. But now I was on my own. I tried to be neutral and address the space between them.

"A storm is approaching. May I dance in your fields?" I tried to keep my voice steady but I wasn't sure if I wavered. The silence seemed to grow and I tried a different dialect. Again there was a silence. Internally I was panicking. Miscommunication could mean death in my line of work. I sighed and walked slowly towards the fields; giving them the opportunity to stop me. I was only here for them, but I was unsure how open they would be. I knew they were more open than the whites. It was a given fact. I was white by birth, but somehow, someway I ended up here when I was nine. I think it had something to do with a trader ship blown way off course. Now at sixteen I was a full-fledged storm dancer. I looked to the sky and readjusted my grip on my dancing gear. Every storm dancer has a different object they danced with. My teacher used fans, and some of the best duets I have seen were done with swords. Many of the swords used were really old. And no one could remember how to make them. I used flags: pale blue for peaceful storms and crimson for destruction. With the first rains the red flag was safely tucked away and the blue fabric unfurled gracing the wind with its color. Lightning flashed and thunder rolled as I danced. Whirling and twirling I directed the lightning and the worst of the gales. In the little clearing in the maize I was truly myself; I was a part of the storm and yet I remained completely myself. It accepted me for all that I was.

At this point in storms my stamina failed and I called upon memories to get me through the dance. Anything to keep me going till the end of the storm. The children, it was always the children. Laughter, games, smiles, happiness at small wonders and joys. I danced for them. For their smiles and their laughter. That's why when I felt lightning drawn to the brave standing behind me I took the fall for him.

With emotions flashing through me like the lightning I directed, I whipped around anger clear on my face. With a quick sigh I let the anger go for another time and tossed my flag. Anger now would cause more damage than I could inflict with my rushed actions. The lightning struck the flag just like I planned, what I didn't plan for was him running towards me as I tossed. "NO!" ripped from my throat and I stumbled backwards catching my flag awkwardly. Lightning surged through my body and angrily discharged into the ground. My world went black.