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She rushed across the clifftop, towards his still body. Tall grey clouds gathered to watch her, clutching his dying form. As his life blood trickled through her fingers, the storm broke overhead. Lightning flickered and his body went limp.
Nature itself seemed incensed by his death, raging around them. Bitter tears mixed with the pouring rain. The sea, a frothing stampede rushing towards merciless cliffs, crashed against the soft clay. Spray leapt over the top, leaving salt in hair and lips, which was washed away again by the rain. Thunder roared its anger, shouting abuse at the very earth, while lightning cracked its knuckles and smashed down viciously, leaving splinters where there were once great oaks.
At the centre of the tempest, knelt Clare, embracing his corpse. Her emotions were in more turmoil than the storm, flitting through shock to despair. Guilt gnawed at her innards. Guilt at the repercussions of her actions. She'd only thought of the fame and reward such a discovery would bring. She hadn't thought they'd want to silence her. She hadn't even considered the affect on those close to her. They'd sent her threats that they'd do something like this. She'd disregarded them.
She herself seemed to have died. Her eyes were blank, devoid of life, joy, despair. Then a spark appeared in the depths. It grew, consumed all other emotions in its way. It spoke of a bitter mixture of anger and defiance.
They'd murdered the only thing she'd ever cared for, loved. They were going to pay.