When Suho wakes up, the first and only thing he is aware of is the radiating heat on his left side. Raising his head and blinking blearily, Suho is greeted by the gentle whicker of Lay, who nuzzles Suho affectionately before nudging the boy to his feet.

Suho feels disoriented but he doesn't think he was out that long. The sun is throwing it's last feeble rays across the sky and Suho hurriedly puts Lay back in the stable before hurrying back to the house. Just as he touches the door, a silent something swoops past his face and Suho cries out, stumbling backwards. The something lands on a nearby fence post and hoots at Suho, and Suho recognizes the owl that he first saw in the barn that had apparently gone to get Chen.

It stares at him and until that moment Suho had not been aware that owls could look so disapproving.

"What?" he asks, and the owl ruffles its feathers and hisses at Suho before looking up at the rapidly darkening sky then back at Suho and hooting angrily.

Suho looks up and his heart sinks.

"Chen," he whispers, absently rubbing the arm the thunderbird had touched. It also happened to be the arm that had been grabbed by the lightning bolt. The owl hoots quietly at the sound of Chen's name and Suho looks at it.

"Is he okay?" he whispers, and the owl closes its eyes briefly and hoots so quietly Suho is unsure if he hears it. Suho feels something inside him twist painfully at the thought of Chen in pain and it brings tears to his eyes.

"Tell him that I'm okay, would you? Tell him I want to see him again."

The owl's eyes snap open and it hisses violently at Suho before flaring it's wings and noiselessly taking off. Suho tries to look for it in the dark but his chattering teeth soon drive him to push open the kitchen door and escape the biting wind.

As he pulls off his jacket, a stinging in his left arm makes him hiss in discomfort and Suho rolls up his sleeve to reveal a jagged crisscross of discolored skin spiraling from his shoulder to his wrist. He stares at it for a moment before poking it gingerly. A spark of electricity jumps from his arm to his finger and he pulls back, startled. He stares at his arm for a few more moments until his mother calls his name from the living room and he is reminded that he needs to sleep.

The snow never comes that winter, and the more superstitious of the townsfolk blame the hyperions, the mythical birds that control snow. Suho is almost inclined to believe them, because, after all, if thunderbirds are real, who's to say that the other legendary weather birds aren't? But the fact that it isn't snowing is a harsh reminder that, despite the brief respite of rain five years ago, the land is parched and the drought is continuing.

Baekhyun's sermons, in response to the mutterings of the Old Faith, increasingly speak of the Light God's withholding of rain and snow as a punishment for returning to the old ways. Suho barely hears them as he stares out of the stained glass window of the church, past the glass phoenixes and suns, searching the sky for a hint of a thunderbird. He hasn't seen Chen since the night after his father's funeral.

Suho worries about what he will do when the spring comes and he has to start planting. He knows he won't be able to plant the entirety of his father's land, but, after a long night of calculations at the kitchen table, he comes to the conclusion that if he plants a fourth of the land, he will at least save his family from starvation. It still isn't an easy task for a thirteen year old, but Suho has no choice.

By the time the weather warms, the skin on Suho's left arm is still a jagged spiral of lightning scars, and though he's managed to hide it under long sleeves and heavy coats, the weather is becoming too warm and the work is too hard for any shirt at all.

His efforts to hide it from his family fail when his mother walks in on him changing. Her eyes rake the marred flesh of his left arm before resting on his face, a strange resigned look in her eyes. But she says nothing and only hands Suho a long strip of bandage cloth, which he wraps around his arm, concealing most of the scars.

Planting is hard work. Even with Lay harnessed to the heavy plow, the soil is hard packed and dry and Suho has to take many trips to the spring before the seeds are anywhere near watered. Sehun wants to help, and nearly throws a fit when Suho tells him no. Suho tries to explain that he wants Sehun to continue his studies at the temple school, to get the education that Suho never will, to find a job that will pay well enough to support Sehun's own family one day, but Sehun hears none of it and instead screams of how it isn't fair and how he's old enough to help and finally Suho snaps and bangs his left hand on the table.

"Sehun!" He shouts, and he doesn't hear, in the distance, the merest rumble of thunder. "I am the head of this house now, and you are going to continue your schooling. Do you understand?"

Sehun hiccups and wipes his nose on his sleeve and glares at Suho but he nods before running to their shared room and sobbing into his mattress.

Suho slumps into his chair and buries his face in his hands, jerking away when a spark of electricity jumps from his left hand to his eyebrow. Frowning, he examines his hands, but they look no different. Hesitantly, he flexes the fingers of his left hand, and nearly screams when small sparks dance between the spaces of his fingers. He stares at his hand, transfixed, until a now familiar rumble causes Suho's eyes to snap to the window. 

Thunder.

His eyes widen and Suho runs out of the door, not even stopping to put on his shoes, and throws his head back to search the sky. The clouds turn dark for a split second, lightning arcs between two grey clouds, and Suho's scars burn suddenly, making him hiss in pain.

For the briefest of instances, through the tears blurring his vision, Suho glimpses a huge bird swooping through the dark clouds before the sky abruptly clears and the sun plays across Suho's face.

Suho has never been more disappointed.

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A/N: If it was possible for me to go to each of you and kneel down and press my face to the ground I would. I am a terrible terrible updater I shall now commit Seppuku I do not deserve any of you. My only excuse (and it's kind of a crappy one) is that I've been working pretty irregular hours at my job and by the time I get home the last thing on my mind is writing this story. I love this story, don't get me wrong, but I just...could not bring myself to write, and I promise the next chapter will be longer, but I felt so bad about leaving you guys hanging for a month that I needed to post some sort of continuation and once again I am so sincerely sorry.