The Gathering Storm (The Wheel of Time 12) What the Stor the sturdy blackoak chair crafted for hirandson two years before He stared northward At the black and silver clouds He&39;d never seen their like before They blanketed the entire horizon to the north, high in the sky They weren&39;t gray They were black and silver Dark, ruht With striking silver light breaking between theave off no sound The air was thick Thick with the scents of dust and dirt Of dried leaves and rain that refused to fall Spring had corow Not a sprout had dared poke through the earth He rose slowly fro softly behind hie of the porch He chewed on his pipe, though its fire had gone out He couldn&39;t be bothered to relight it Those clouds transfixed him They were so black Like the smoke of a brushfire, only no brushfire sh up in the air And what tobetween the black ones, like places where polished steel shone throughdown at his yard A srass and shrubs The shrubs were dead now, every one of theh that winter He&39;d need to pull therass was still just winter thatch Not even any weeds sprouted