The path to the peak tried to kill Grace at least twelve times in the first five minutes.
First, a lightning bolt hit the rock face inches from her head. The thunder came instantly, loud enough to make her teeth rattle and her ears ring like someone was playing drums inside her skull.
[Great start. Love this.]
Then the wind decided to get personal. It grabbed her wings like a drunk ex at a party and slammed her face-first into the mountainside. She scraped along jagged rocks, her robes tearing like tissue paper.
"Fuck!"
She pushed off and kept climbing.
Rain started pelting her from below. Not above, like normal rain that understood basic physics. Below. The droplets shot upward like tiny liquid bullets, each one stinging against her skin.
A mini-tornado made entirely of ice shards spun across the path ahead. Because regular tornadoes weren't horrible enough, apparently. Grace dove to avoid it. The thing actually changed direction to chase her.
"Are you kidding me?"
