The days after Lira's dream were uneasy. The villagers tried to return to normal life—mending nets, planting rice, repairing boats—but the air carried a weight that no one could ignore. The sea was restless, its waves striking harder against the shore.
Children no longer teased Lira. Instead, they watched her carefully, waiting for signs. Cindy whispered to Timmy one morning, "Do you think she'll warn us again?"
Timmy shrugged, though his eyes betrayed fear. "If she does, we should listen this time."
Lira walked along the path, thumb tucked in her mouth, listening. The wind curled around her ears, urgent and sharp: The storm returns. Greater than before.
Her heart thudded. She ran to her mother. "Mama, the wind says another storm is coming."
Aling Rosa's face tightened. "So soon?"
"Yes," Lira said. "We must prepare again."
That evening, the elders gathered in the council hut. Elder Ramos frowned as Lira spoke. "Another storm? We cannot live in fear of every whisper."
"It is not just a whisper," Lira said firmly. "It is a warning. The sea is restless. The birds have flown inland again. The clouds are gathering."
The villagers murmured. Some nodded, remembering the last storm. Others shook their heads, unwilling to believe.
Aling Rosa stepped forward. "She saved us once. Will you risk ignoring her now?"
The elder sighed, torn. "We will watch the skies. If they darken, we will act."
But Lira knew waiting would be too late. The wind had already spoken.