A/N: This story is set in an ancient utopian (geographically) world with limited land mass.

I was a foundling and the elders in my village hail me to the pious as a gift from Oya, the goddess of the storm and war. I cannot say that I believe this; I do not find myself divine, however, my powers over the elements are certainly celestial.

My bare feet pound against the foliage, I can barely maintain my grip on this child whose arms and legs are wrapped tightly around me. It would be futile to attempt a stand in the heavy bush; I could easily be surrounded and even with the elements at my beckon the odds do not lean towards my favor.

My name is Ororo, the child is Kasha, hours ago her parents beseeched me to find her and her brother Tamal. The children were missing from their beds in the morning and their parents feared the obvious; the lycanthropes had kidnapped their children. Lycanthropes are men and women who become extremely predatory beasts come nightfall, nothing is more profound than their need to feed. Most of the blood that covers Kasha is not her own; the Lycanthropes were able to kill her brother before I could save them both.

I find myself morbid in the easy acceptance that I would be unsuccessful carrying two children while fleeing these beasts. While I do not find his death advantageous I know that with one trauma stricken child in tow is proving itself to be challenge enough.

How will I ever face her parents with this failure?

A lycanthrope lunges toward me, somehow he was able to get in front of me, and I think that I won't have to face Kasha's parents. The thought isn't finished before my right hand, guided by Oya, reaches out sending the full measure of her power into his body; Kasha gasps, in fear and surprise. The overwhelming flash of lightning has temporarily blinded her; my vision remains unsullied.

I hear the panting of our assailants, yet I am without plan; I cannot return to the village with them in pursuit, the villagers are ill suited for battle. Even with this evident proclamation I doubt that I could make it to my village.

I nearly fall coming to a stop. I can see their luminescent yellow and red eyes in the pitch darkness. They mean to intimidate me with their foreboding stares, the hope is that I'll lose my nerve and attempt retreat. If I were to withdrawal I would lose my offensive advantage and with the distance between the beasts and myself bridged they would be on my back before I could reach full sprint.

"Kasha," I whisper, lowering my mouth to her ear without removing my eyes from our enemies. "I want you to close your eyes, so tightly that it hurts."

True to the nature of the beast they attack me in waves; a number of the lycanthropes hope to see me fallen so as to rush in and feed from my defeated carcass.

The three that close in on me lunge almost simultaneously; an explosion of air empties the space that they had bridged and while supporting Kasha with my left arm I use my right hand to guide my attacks. The night sky is lit up in brief flashes preceding the volleys of lightning.

Kasha trembles violently in my arms when we fall to the ground, a lycanthrope has clawed my right shoulder blade, the pain is dizzying. I land on my back struggling through the vexing agony to finish this fight alive.

Lightning rains down around us, my heart pumps out one shivering beat that feels as though it anticipates itself to be the last.

I come to my knees, finding myself in the eye of the chaotic chain lightning that fries the enemies in my immediate area. Beyond the bedlam the compatriots of the falling watch, snarling and undaunted.

I'm not sure that there is a word that fully appreciates the breadth of my exhaustion; I can scarcely enjoin movement from my very arms. Somehow, to my own bewilderment and with a trembling child in my arms, I am able to summon a hurricane.

My enemies are uprooted, moving at violent speeds in the savagery of my cyclone, and in confounded desperation they reach for trees in an attempt at regaining their footing in this battle.

I choke on my efforts when calling snow and a deadly cold to freeze my enemies.

In the aftermath I remain on my knees for some time, panting, gasping to fill my burning lungs.

Kasha's expression is marked by terror, her eyes are restlessly darting right and left in fear of ambush. I try pulling her away to ascertain any injuries she may have; she shrieks and claws at my skin and garb to stay close to me.

The child's skin is ashen from the rushing cold air; she was able to keep alive by using my unwavering body heat she is not immune as I am.

Abruptly, adrenaline abandons me and my body simply gives out, I have no struggle left in me: I find myself effortlessly defeated by a tidal wave of unconsciousness.