During the first days of rain the people welcomed it with joy. They ran outside, lifted their faces to the strong streams, laughed, and splashed in the fresh puddles. Children squealed with delight while rolling in the mud. Adults joked that now everything would surely get better.

  "The gods have washed themselves!" someone shouted near the fire. "Now the fish will return, the grass will grow, we will live again!"

  "Dan brought the river back!" others answered. "He called the rain too!"

  By the third day the jokes faded. By the fifth people began glancing at the sky with unease. By the seventh they stopped going outside unless they had to.

  The rain did not stop. It fell and fell, steady and stubborn, endless. The river that had first brought hope now began to frighten them. The water rose higher than even the oldest elders could remember. It reached the lower huts first, then the middle ones. People moved their belongings higher, but the water followed them again and again.

  "This is no longer a blessing," one hunter said grimly as he watched the current tear apart a goat pen. "This is something else."

  "The spirits are angry," the women whispered. "We did not thank them properly. We did not bring enough."

  Panic grew like the water in the riverbed. Slowly but without mercy.

  When it became clear that the water would not retreat, Dan stopped hoping that dams or trenches would help.

  "That is it," he said to Bob while looking at the flooded yards. "Enough. We cannot stop the river. We have to leave."

  When word of the decision spread through the camp, the thing Dan feared most began. People rushed around without direction. Some grabbed random objects. Others simply stood still and stared. A woman with a child in her arms dropped to her knees and cried that she would not leave. She said this was her home and the spirits would punish them.

  "ENOUGH!"

  Bob’s voice cut through the rain and the shouting. He stood on a rise, broad shouldered and soaked to the skin, gripping an axe in his hand. Not as a threat, but as if it was the only thing giving weight to his words.

  "Listen to your chief!" he roared. "Anyone who keeps screaming will be the first one the water takes! Take the children. Take food. Take weapons. Leave the rest! We can build new walls and new homes. You cannot build life again if you drown it!"

  His rough, almost animal growl worked better than any gentle words. People began moving faster. The chaos settled. Groups began to form.

  Dan nodded to Bob. Bob nodded back. They understood each other without speaking.

  "Women with children first!" Dan shouted. "The elderly behind them! Warriors in the rear! No one gets left behind, even if you have to carry them!"

  One young hunter tried to run toward his hut where some useless belongings remained. Bob grabbed him by the shoulder, turned him around, and pushed him toward the path.

  "That way," he said shortly. "Things later. Life now."

  The young man obeyed.

  At that moment, when panic still trembled beneath the surface, ready to break out again, Keo stepped out of his hut.

  The old shaman was so weak that two young assistants supported him by the arms. The drought had drained nearly all his strength. Many had already believed he would not live to see the end of the rains. Yet now he stood there, thin and upright, frightening in his ancient focus.

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  He raised his staff.

  The people fell silent.

  "Listen to me," Keo said. His voice was quiet, yet in the sudden silence everyone heard him.

  "You fear the water. You fear the anger of the spirits. But you should fear only one thing. You should fear disobeying the one who was sent to us."

  He pointed toward Dan.

  "I have seen many winters. I have seen disasters come and people disappear. But I have never seen someone like him. He came from fire. He spoke to the sun. He found water beneath the earth. And now he will lead us away from here."

  Keo paused for breath. His assistants stepped closer, ready to hold him if his strength failed.

  "Listen to him," the shaman finished. "As you would listen to the spirits. Because here he is their voice. If you listen, you will live. If you do not, the water will take you and no one will remember your names."

  He lowered his staff and allowed his helpers to lead him toward the path where the first groups were already gathering.

  People watched him go. Then they looked at Dan.

  There was no panic in their eyes now. Only resolve.

  "Move," Dan said shortly. "We do not have much time."

  And the people moved.

  Dan spoke firmly and without hesitation.

  "We go uphill. Take only what you need. Food, blankets, weapons. Leave everything else. We will build again. The important thing is to save our lives."

  The first who heard him immediately began preparing. Children were wrapped in skins. Dried meat was tied into bundles. Water and glowing coals were carried in clay jars. Women held bundles of grain to their chests. Men walked with spears and buckets.

  The path led to an old rise, a hill to the east that the locals called the Finger of Earth. Scouts were already waiting there. The place had been chosen long ago, back when Dan had first founded the settlement.

  The evacuation was not perfectly organized, but it was calm. Warriors guided the flow of people, helped the elderly, lifted small children onto their shoulders. Those without family helped their neighbors. One man walked with two sacks and a stranger’s baby tied to his back.

  People were already climbing the hill when the sky darkened again like molten lead. Thunder rolled somewhere far away. The sound was dull, as if the earth itself was holding its breath.

  Then the sky seemed to crack.

  At first there was a deep rumble, like the pounding of many hooves. Then the ground began to tremble. Someone shouted.

  "Listen! That is not thunder!"

  When the roar grew louder and the first screams came from the river path, Dan already understood. This was not just rising water. It was a blow. A break. A disaster.

  From the bend of the river a wall of boiling water appeared. Dark and filthy, destroying everything in its path. Somewhere upstream a blockage must have burst, and the heavy, merciless water was rushing down.

  Dan ran back toward the village where some people were still behind. Most had already climbed the hill, but a few remained to gather supplies or help others. At the rear were Klor, two warriors, and a boy about ten years old. Ahead of them walked three others. Two women carrying loads and an older man.

  They had almost reached the edge of the village when the wave appeared around the bend of the river. It was not simply water. It was a rolling mass, dark and heavy like a moving hill.

  "TO THE BANK!" Dan shouted. "EVERYONE TO HIGH GROUND!"

  But it was too late.

  The current crashed in, flooding the streets, tearing away woven roofs and clay walls. Those who were ahead disappeared instantly. One woman screamed and vanished into the whirlpool. The older man was thrown into the air and slammed against a beam. The water carried him away. A lone bundle floated nearby like a useless toy.

  Klor, the two warriors, and the boy were farther back, but the wave was catching them. One warrior vanished in the water. The other managed to grab a broken roof beam. The boy slipped, fell into the water, and the current seized him.

  Dan was already there.

  He saw the body of the adult vanish beneath the water and knew there was no time left. He threw a rope. The boy grabbed it while struggling in the current. A sharp pull. Dan pulled with all his strength. Someone grabbed him from behind and together they dragged the child out.

  One saved.

  He rushed to the second man. The warrior on the beam was already losing strength. Dan grabbed him and pulled. They managed to drag him to safety.

  Then he saw Klor.

  He was farther away, near the edge of the raging current. He was thrown between broken pieces of wood, trying to swim, but the water spun him and dragged him along.

  Their eyes met.

  Klor was shouting. His hand moved toward Dan as if begging. You can do it.

  Dan stood still. He measured the distance. He knew that if he jumped into the water, he might reach him.

  But then he might never return. And he would not die alone.

  He stayed where he was.

  Klor disappeared. The current carried him away around the bend, and he was gone.