Storytime, then. I think Haran should have all of the stories, because… oh? No? Then who should have one, little boy of mine? Berra? Of course. Are you all comfortable beneath warmth? Good.
So it was in the god time, and so it is now, there was a little storm called Berra, the daughter of the great storm Orlanth, and a wind child who was friends with the earth. She lived with her foster mother in a cave that was exactly square. Ernalda had made it for the dwarfs, and they could not find a single thing in it that was not perfect, and so they left in anger, because she built better than they.
Berra’s foster mother was a daughter of Ernalda who had many children, and many lovers who pleased her greatly, but she had married Barntar and was true to him. She was very pretty and clever, but we will talk about her another time.
Berra grew up within the cave, where everything was perfect, and she yearned to see things that were different. One day when her mother was out seeing to the fields she puffed herself up into the biggest storm she could, to fight against the walls, but they did not move. Berra raged around and fought but all she did was scare her clever brother and her gentle sister, and break half of the furniture.
When her mother got back she mended the furniture and said no more, but went out to the field again the next day. And again, Berra puffed herself up and fought against the walls, and she tore her brother’s clothes and made her sister’s hair tie around the table leg, and everyone was sad.
And her mother got back and untied the hair and mended the clothes and said to Berra, “You must go out of the cave before you storm,” and Berra saw the way out, which she had never seen before, because she was a grown-up storm now. And the next day, after breakfast, she went out and she raged. She threw trees around and pushed sheep over and stopped rivers in their courses with her wind. She flooded plains and filled boats and turned rocks into waterfalls, until she tired.
Then she went back to the cave but she was a huge cloud, and could not fit in. So, she went to the last dry desert and rained there softly, until she was wisps, and she folded herself all up and then a mist came back to the cave, and it was Berra.
Her clever brother had sheltered the chickens, which had given them eggs in thanks, and her kind sister had milked the sheep that she had helped to stand up, and there was food for her, and she did not rage inside the cave, because her family was there, but she boasted of all she had done, and they listened before they slept like tired little people. And goodnight, my tired little people.