Lightning Strikes!

The heroine looked about. She had heard the thunder, but not seen the lightning. There was another boom, and this time she looked swiftly enough to see as the next stroke hit - a flash of light from the ground to the sky and back, a thousand feet away. It's getting closer, she thought.

The next one was right on top of her.

She rolled upright, smoking slightly from the near hit. "Come down, then!" she shouted to the stormy heavens. Unsurprising to her (but rather startling to her audience), a large bearded man fell into the smoking mark left by the last lightning strike. He carried a large hammer, taller than he was - which is saying something. He nodded to her, once, tersely. "Shall we dance, then?" he asked in a deep voice unschooled by the civilities of the West. She shrugged, and the man brought his hammer up and around in an arc faster than seemed possible.

The heroine stood, strands of hair drifting down from the close hit. The hammer hit the ground with a boom like a thunderclap. Its wielder looked at the heroine, evaluating her - then, muscles bulging, ripped his hammer out of the ground and leapt at the heroine, swinging his hammer in an unstoppable vertical arc.

Behind the hammer wielder, the heroine stood up. She poked him with one finger as the ground trembled from the impact of the last strike. He brought himself about once more, spinning the haft of the hammer at where the heroine stood.

She jumped off a nearby boulder, locks of hair fluttering in the wind. She stepped over the hammer's haft, seemingly unconcerned, and stood before the lightning-bringer. "Will that be all?" she asked. He brought the hammer up.

She jumped off a nearby boulder, locks of hair fluttering in the wind. She stepped over the hammer's haft, seemingly unconcerned, and stood before the lightning-bringer. "Will that be all?" she asked. He sighed and shrugged, bringing the hammer to his shoulders in one mighty motion. "You cheat," he said in a deep, tired voice.

"And you don't?" she asked, looking at his immense muscles, glistening with black sweat, and his even larger hammer.

The hammer-wielder sighed and jumped upward disappearing into the black storm clouds above. He sent his hammer spinning down as he leapt, blasting the air right in front of the heroine with one last strike.

She flinched, then laughed at herself, and turned away. There was a long way yet to go, she knew, and the day had just begun.

Above her, the black clouds faded slowly away.