The Thief and the Thunderstorm. Part Seven

Part Seven: the thieving wind

Finally, after facing death a dozen times or more, the party reached the coast of Salthill. It was here that the thief had to leave his companions, and struggle on alone. He was sad at leaving his brave friends, but he filled his boots and pockets with heavy stones and struggled ashore. The wind tugged and tore at him, but he was too heavy to be blown away, and so it was that he finally made it to his little house. The van was now on its side, but the Thief managed to clamber up the side, open the door, and grab the Selkie Queen’s Royal Coat. For the first time since the storm began the thief smiled. Hope filled his heart, even as the storm rocked the van back and forth like a baby's cradle.

However, just as he was about to give a triumphant shout, a blast of wind tore the door from the van and snatched the Royal coat from the thief’s fingers. The thief tumbled back into the van and clenched his eyes shut in despair. He began to weep, and, being so overcome with exhaustion and sorrow, wept himself to sleep.

As the thief slept, the North wind tore at the royal sealskin coat, as did the South, West and East winds. Hailstones tried to tear the royal garment apart, and lightning endeavoured to put it to flame. Every element of the storm was intent on destroying the Selkie Queen's coat, for with it destroyed the queen would die and the world would be controlled by storms for ever. 

Yet the ferocious elements of the sky began fighting each other over who should have the honour of destroying the royal coat. For the briefest fraction of a second the storm's warriors were more focused on their mutual rivalry than on the garment itself. In that tiny slither of time the royal coat tumbled down from the sky. All the divisions of the storm, united once more, raced after the coat, but just as they caught up with it, up leapt the dolphin and snatched the royal sealskin coat from their grasp.

Now read: The Thief and the Thunderstorm. Part Eight