I woke one morning to thunder. The crimson sky pulsed around us with a noise like blood rushing through our ears.

We threw off our blankets, stepped out, and peered through the clouds, searching for the tell-tale glow of the sun. Fatimah crossed herself, which struck me as funny.

"The river," said Jonathan.

"What river?"

He pointed up. The Earth exhaled, and the river changed direction. Her lungs rattled and tore tributaries through the sky. Each time she inhaled, new patterns bore their way into the clouds and the rolling shadows of the landscape.

Was the world waking up?

For some reason I thought Jonathan would have answers, but he seemed just as startled as me. He turned to me and announced:

"I need to take a walk somewhere. Stay with Fatimah until I get back."

We waited, watching the sky.