One day, the storm came back.
Marigold had already been trying to explain to him – it wasn't the same storm, that doesn't make any sense, storm clouds don't just circle around and come back a month later. But he was certain it was the same one. All the conditions were so similar that it might as well have been if he had died again.
Against her wishes, he had already run back out into the woods. He could hear her calling him, but his legs were moving as fast as they could go. He wasn’t sure where he was going – he just knew he had to move.