By evening, the sky was black. Lightning split the horizon, jagged and fierce, and thunder rolled across the sea like a drumbeat. The villagers ran in panic, clutching baskets, children, and animals.
Roofs tore away, bamboo walls cracked, and rain poured like a river from the heavens. The storm had arrived with a fury none had expected.
"Where do we go?" Elder Ramos shouted, his voice nearly drowned by the wind.
Lira stepped forward, thumb in her mouth, listening. The wind screamed in her ears: The cave, the cave, the cave.
She pointed toward the cliffs. "Follow me!"
The villagers hesitated, staring at the small girl with the thumb in her mouth. But her mother cried out, "Trust her! She knows!"
One by one, they followed Lira through the storm. The rain lashed against their faces, the wind pushed them back, but she led them steadily toward the cliffs.
The cave loomed ahead, dark and wide. They rushed inside, huddling together as the storm raged outside. The wind howled, waves crashed, and roofs collapsed in the village below.
Inside the cave, the people trembled. Cindy clutched her mother's hand. Timmy stared at Lira, his eyes wide.
"You… you saved us," he whispered.
Lira didn't answer. She sat quietly, thumb in her mouth, listening to the storm's voice. It was no longer a warning—it was a song of survival.
When dawn broke, the village lay in ruins. But the people were alive. And for the first time, they looked at Lira not with laughter, but with awe.