Almost as soon as the alarm had sounded, Draine had arrived at Malt and Tamra's snowy watchtower.

"What is going on?" the old Guy asked, but he didn't need an answer. A huge ball of fire wasn't all that hard to miss.

"What should we do, sir?" Tamra asked. He tried to sound normal, but inside he was about to lose it. Draine just looked itno the sky. He seemed so calm, even as the smaldering flames drew closer and closer. Malt seemed calm, too. He and Draine seemed to iluminate the same kind of calm collected glow. "How do they do it?" he wondered.

Suddenly, the trio felt one of Brilla's powerfully strong blizzard winds begin to blow. The fireball, hit full force by what the Zans would call merely a light breeze, split in two. One piece was blown off in the other direction. The other piece changed trajectory and was lifted slightly higher into the sky. It flew right over their heads, and Malt and Tamra breathed a sigh of relief as it passed just over the village. Their chief just kept his stern, cold look.

"Look's like we're in the clear!" Malt sasid as he ran up the tower to shut off the alarm. Tamra looked at Draine. He seemed unusually quiet.

"All right, sir?" he asked. Draine jolted up as if Tamra's question had awoken him from a deep sleep.

"Yes young Shin, I think so. Something is just troubling me." As the comet passed, his feeling of death grew ever stronger. It was unbearable. He had to decide on a replacement soon. Before Tamra could make a reply, an earsplitting BOOM shook the frozen landscape. The object had hit ground. Malt came running from the tower.

"Not to interupt anything, boss," he said. "but with the alarm, fireball, and loud boom... the townspeople are probably screaming their heads off. Maybe we should go calm them down." The old Guy nodded.

"Agreed." he replied. "It seems this one can make a sound decision, and he was able to keep his head in a dire situation." he thought. "Perhaps I have found my succsesor."

"Sir?" Tamra once again broke his chain of thought.

"Sorry," Draine replied. "Lately I've been getting lost in my thoughts. Alright, see if you can keep up." The chief jolted off towards the village. Caught off gaurd by his abrupt leave, the two began to follow his trail back to town.

Even though they were in ripe age, they couldn't keep up with their leader.

"No wonder he's sometimes called 'Old Lightning'." Malt thought. Despite his old age, "Old Lightning" was awe inspireing to look at. His white fur seemed to decimat the beauty of the snowcapped mountians. He wore the royal garb of his people worn by chief after chief. It was a long dark blue cloak with a long collar in the back and two holes for his back limbs to go through along with a pair of huge black gloves over his arms. On his chest was the was the family heirloom, a circular pendant made of old stone. In it's center was a clear class orb that seemed to radiate a strange energy. It would tear them all apart when Draine finally met his end. "There will never be another like him." he said to himself as the village came into view. "Lightning never strikes twice."

nice ending 'lightning never strikes twice' i think you should be an author.

Thanks Foxman. I'm really glad you like my stories. The next one will come out soon, I hope. But I wanted to take a break. (when you write something two times and then type it your hands start to hurt.) It will have to wait a while, though. I've got a busy weekend ahead of me. By the way, have you read Sturnum's and Whada's stories yet? They are really good, too.

Excellent, Swezlon. I especially liked the suspence in the fire ball scene. I also agree with foxman, great ending.

Thanks a lot guys. Expect the next one Sunday (I hope). I can't wait to read your next either Sturnum.