In the little mountain valley where he had camped overnight, the swirling madness of the storm eclipsed all. The thunder echoed off the mountain peaks and swirled into the valleys, bouncing and echoing as it came towards him and seeming to grow in intensity until at last it reached his ears, and then the whole world was noise. The lightning lit up a ferocious scene, trees whipping themselves to and fro as the winds tore at their branches ripping their leaves from their anchorage and swirling them into the storm laden night while rain pelted down harder than he had ever seen before, turning the valley floor into a thick, clinging mud, and rapidly swelling the small stream nearby.

Thus was set the scene for the day of his first meeting.

As the ferocity and madness of the storm increased, the sky was torn asunder by the most vicious of lightning strikes, and suddenly, she was standing before him, framed in the light of the recent lightning strike, seeming to glow with the intensity of the storm.

She was the child of thunder. Wild and untamed as the mountain storm, and as beautiful as the valleys in summer. She was barely ten years old, her long, yellow hair whipped wildly around her face, and the water ran from her deerskin clothes, as she stood, barefoot, chanting soft words while her little hands orchestrated the majesty of the storm.

His heart stopped and quivered, then beat anew, faster and harder than it had ever beat before. He could feel it being drawn towards her, inch by inch, and he reached his hand towards her, a smile spreading over his face as the new feeling flowed through him. He has never seen a more beautiful child before...

With a tiny answering smile, her own hand reached for his, sparks flickering around her fingertips as she did so, and waited for him as he crossed the slippery, muddy ground between them.

As his fingertips met hers, his knees bent and buckled as his veins seemed to fill with electricity, burning and throbbing their way to his heart. He would have fallen to the ground at her tiny bare feet, but he was held upright by her enchanting gaze. Her hazel eyes gazed deeply into his very soul, holding it, caressing it, and, as the rain swirled around them, she drew him to her small passionate lips.

As one, every hair on his body stood on end as his lips met hers, and tiny sparks crawled over his body. Tiny pinpricks of pain, or were they pleasure? He did not know, but he did not stop the kiss. It seemed that his lips were born only to be pressed to the little girl's lips, and neither she nor he wanted the contact to ever end.

Slowly his finger traced the outline of her moistened lips. The gentle touch sent ripples of desire through her young body. Her thoughts were no longer focused. They were instead running rampant with every touch of his hand. Inner screams of long denied sensations fell upon the little girl as she felt the softness of his lips against her bare neck. Her head fell back against her shoulders, as if it no longer had the strength to stand alone.

His touch moved to her chest, still shapeless and childlike, that now heaved with her rapid breathing. Slowly he loosened the tiny buttons that held her blouse together. Small gasps of pleasure came from her as he moved deliberately, yet gently to kiss her.

Realising her sparked want for him, he continued his exploration of her face, her neck, her limbs... Taking off the cloth that covered her lower body, he gently inserted his hand to reach for the warmth of her core. He found the child to be accepting of his wandering touch. Her innocent moistness apparent, he gently massaged her with his fingers. Tremors wracked her tiny body while her moans of pleasure vibrated against his moving mouth.

He moved her and placed her in the soft wetness of the new spring grass. Relieving her from the constriction of her clothes, he knelt between the embrace of little girl's inner thighs. Her body undulated to every movement that he made. Not wanting to have this moment pass, he reached for her cold little hand and guided her gently to explore herself.

On her ten-year-old face he found such emotion and beauty. He watched every aspect of her tender being. Never before had he witnessed such natural pleasure and grace in such a small girl. He had never even given it much thought until now. He felt his own needs and desires reaching monumental proportions. He wanted her like no other. He could no longer stay a bystander in this marvelous dance of nature. He must become a part of it.

Finally he lowered himself to embrace the full length of little girl's body. Entwined around each other, passionate kisses became fevered. He could tell by the way she moved against him that she was lost in passion. Every gasp and moan that crossed her lips was purely spontaneous.

Slowly their rapid breathing and sighs of pleasure brought them back to the garden of floral beauty around them. The wisteria hung above them, draping in the ancient arms of elderly oaks. The scent of spring flowers and rain around them penetrated their senses. It was as though time knew no bounds here.

Then it was over and he lay sprawled, twitching in the wet grass, the storm had passed, and as he looked up from where he lay, he saw his little lover disappearing in the distance, following the storm. Her soft hand reached towards him one last time and he saw her mouth the words, "Again. Come to me again as the storm is at its height."

Now he too follows the storms. For the lightning is in his heart and his soul is filled with the Thunder Child. But he must leave you now, for a new storm is building, and there is someone he must meet. A beautiful little girl waves from the distance... The Thunder Child awaits him...

The End