It was still dark out when Desiree awoke. The wind which stirred her from her slumber was surprisingly sharp and cold. A moment passed as she considered her next move and then gently began to untangle herself from Kiran's warm embrace. His skin felt like embers, glowing and smoldering in the darkness as hot as the fire next to them.
Finally free, Des picked her way through the lush tropical foliage and took careful doe's steps up to the highest point on the island, the peak of the north side cliffs. She breathed deeply, tasting the salt of the air. The pressure had dropped. A familiar ache in her wrist told her that a storm was approaching.
She hadn't broken it in her time on the island, but couldn't remember when it had happened. She had miraculously escaped any real injury in their shipwreck over a year ago. Surely Kiran would feel the pain too when his leg woke him with groaning soreness. He had been less fortunate on the night the seas swallowed their ship.
But something was different about this storm, Des realized. It had blown up overnight. For a split second she caught a glimpse of a weather man on an old television set. Memories like that unsettled her. Why were they there? Why could she remember something as obscure and unimportant as a news anchor and not the names of faces of her family?
In her head she tried to replay the odd clip of her past and she remembered a saying from someone, somewhere...
"Long foretold, long last; short notice, soon past..."
She scanned the heavy gray clouds that looked so close to bursting into tears. It was time to wake Kiran. They needed shelter. When she returned to the spot where they'd been sleeping, she found her lover curled up, his face twitching from one expression to another in his sleep. She watched as anger and then sadness and fear distorted his features.
"You're dreaming," she whispered, "Kiran. Wake up." It was not the sound of her words but the first raindrop landing on his face that woke him. It was cold. He stared into the sky, comprehension coming quickly.
Whether or not the storm would last long, it was going to be a bad one.