A Single Drop of Rain

Atara loved the winter. Winter meant rain. And rain meant green hills and another chance to break Corala’s twenty-year drought. Winter brought relief after the dry, hot summers during which fires raged across the country, Atara’s mother had told her that rain was hope coming swiftly and silently, sowing seeds of life and love in every member of her magical clan, the Sirda.

It was winter, yet it wasn’t even cold. There had been no rain. Winter would depart soon. The grass was parched and yellow and nothing grew in the gardens.

Atara knew she had to do something to fix the weather. Her magic was strong even though she was just a child. She had read the ancient texts that every Sirdi studied, but she couldn’t find anything on weather control. She wasn’t discouraged. Searching once more through the passages on plant growth, she came upon a spell to create a bubble of moisture.

I might be able to tweak the spell to enhance it, she thought.

Salay Mora Kasta Ve: these were the words of the spell. Atara didn’t need the Sirda Magic Dictionary to know what those words meant: it was a simple spell. She replaced Mora, which was the confining word, with the phrase Manda To Ja. Atara mouthed the words to make sure it felt right. Finally satisfied, she ran outside of her study, to the dried-up backyard.

Closing her eyes, Atara called to her magic. She felt it course through her, filling her with warmth, feeding her power.

“Salay Manda To Ja Kasta Ve,” Atara whispered and then again, louder, “Salay Manda To Ja Kasata Ve!”

Atara opened her eyes and waited. A minute passed. Nothing happened. Two minutes . . . three . . . four. Nothing. After five minutes, Atara turned back to the house, discouraged.

Just as she turned around a hard wind blew, knocking her forward. A fat drop of rain fell onto her neck. And then another and another, until the droplets became a steady downpour. Atara’s people emerged from their homes staring in wonder at the rain. Children splashed water. Atara smiled, content.