Chapter 7
Wind whipped through the little prairie town. Small branches, papers, garbage. They flew by with little impact on the two visitors. But Ken could already see larger things rocking back and forth with increasing speed. Loose shingles on a nearby building—containing a handful of stores and offices—lifted up slightly. Pieces of dust and dirt hit her cheeks and felt like sandpaper. The storm had to be getting closer.
Which meant they were right on target. For months, Dakota and Ken tried, unsuccessfully, to catch up to the creator of more than a hundred magic-made tornadoes. While they still had no idea what the person even looked like or why they targeted tiny boroughs, seemingly at random, there was one thing Dakota and Ken could use to their advantage. Twisters were unpredictabl
