A story about... A Storm © 2000 Marg Frey, Bryce Graves-Hurst, Nahoya, Christine Schwab	NAHOYA	MARG	BRYCE & CHRISTINE
				CHRISTINE & BRYCE
			BRYCE	MARG & CHRISTINE
				CHRISTINE & MARG
			CHRISTINE	MARG & BRYCE
				BRYCE & MARG

So a few of them died. So what. There were too many of them as it was. For all the crap they spewed into the clouds, their tiny bit of moisture and nutrients was the least they could offer back. Grinding their tiny bones with the might of the wind and the water was doing them a favor, ennobling them. The Storm was deeply proud of its role, and didn't need the approval of its beneficiaries. The storm didn't see itself as whiny at all. The high-pressure system just east of the storm could roll its eyes all it wanted to, the stupid thing. What did it know about giving the people what they needed? That lazy wuss would be content to just hover there if the storm wasn't pushing it through.

And push it did. It had a job to do, like it or not. Nothing could change that. The storm sighed.

"Look for an increase in winds this afternoon, which by nightfall should blow the precipitation off to the east..."