The storm was bearing down on the island. Palms swayed to the steady rhythm the thunder was drumming out. The tide swept higher and harder with each wash of the shore. Waves crashed ruthlessly against the shivering sands.

Wildlife silenced their night time calls for attention turning to soft cooings to comfort the young. Snuggled closer in the nests and burrows against the howling of the winds, they shut their eyes only knowing what was coming, without understanding.

The huts had been abandoned when the first clouds appeared at the horizon. The Natives knew this was an ominous sign of things to come. No amount of ritual nor dance would stop the Sky gods this time. It was long overdue afterall.

The last time the Sky gods unleashed their fury, the island was left in utter devastation. Trees the size of three men were snapped haphazardly from waist to head high. Children had been wrenched from their mothers desperate arms by the winds and out of the caves.

It was hell, and it was coming again.