The storm that is approaching
As night dwelled within the skies, deep within the depths of the forest, which itself was within the bowels of a concrete jungle, there was a flickering light. It wasn't the dancing warmth of a campfire, not the ambient buzzing of a sparkle of fireflies. Instead it was the crackling of electricity as the overpowering stench of ozone filled the air.
Sitting at the base of a recently sprouted ancient oak tree, was a woman in her mid twenties. She had long, flowing black hair that cascaded down her shoulders like a waterfall of night, that slowly turned from black to grey the further down it got until it finally turned as white as ash at the very ends.
The only exception to this were streaks either side of her face, the deep blue dye already in the process of fading after all these weeks.