I lean against the railing, wood creaking in protest against my weight. The forest was silent tonight, the silence that came before a heavy storm. I eye the distant horizon where the stars were blocked by thick gray clouds, clouds that were rapidly making their way in this direction. Taking a heavy pull from the smoke stick between my lips I hold the burn in my lungs for a three count before letting it out in a heavy sigh. Taking the stick from my mouth I flick the ember at the end of it before wetting my fingers to fully snuff out the light before putting the half-burned stick back in the wrap which goes back into the shelf in the railing. Time to get to work.

I hop over the railing with a smooth motion and land in a crouch on the ground below, my coat pooling around me while the pair of sheaths at my sides don’t move at all, strapped in place. I stand and head out into the forest, pulling the hood of my coat up as I enter the trees. All of the smart animals were safe and warm and above all else [b]dry[/b] in their homes tonight while my dumb ass wasn’t going to be any of the above in a few moments. But someone had to do this job or no one would ever be safe or warm or dry again.

I reach the circle just as the clouds roll in above, blotting out what little light there had been trickling down. I don’t need light though, I’ve walked this path too many times to forget it. I step into the center of the smooth rock just as the first drops of rain start to fall. It doesn’t take much before the stone under my feet starts to hum and I pull the pair of coal coated curved blades from my sides as indefinite forms start to rise from all around me. I take in a deep breath before I [i]flow[/i], striking at the nearest form before it can move more than a finger’s span from where it had started.

I dance between the drops as best I can as rain falls faster from the sky, roaring loud enough to deafen as barrels and barrels of water fall from above. I trust my coat to keep the worst of it at bay as I slash though one figure after another, their forms breaking apart back into loose water as long as I separate them into roughly even halves. I control my breathing, not wanting to take too much of the humid air in lest one of these things form in my lungs despite my preparations.

I had no hope of ever getting them all, for every one I cut down two or three others would form, sloshing their way out of the circle into the dark woods beyond. The point wasn’t to get them all but to get enough. Enough to fill the reservoir under the stone. Enough to call the others back. Enough, enough, ENOUGH! Like every other time I want to roar my defiance to the sky, to confront the storm with primal rage but my air is better spent moving my feet and arms.

I press on. I cut through another one of the blobs of water as it was reaching the edge of the circle and spin back around to the next one and follow though the strike as the rain starts to lessen. I jerk my head up to the sky in surprise, blinking. Storms weren’t normally this short. I glance down but it’s still true dark so of course I can’t see the reservoir level below me.

I cut down the last of the water forms, struggling weak thing that it was, as the rain stops falling and, and nothing. No call. No water being pulled back to the stone. I sheathe my blades and shake out my coat in the vain hope it’d be enough. It wasn’t. With a groan I start back to the watchtower, not looking forward to the now required task.

I always hated having to bucket hunt as a forest water fighter.