I do not own the rights to "Smallville" nor any of it's characters. This story is written purely for the entertainment of the reader and is in no way connected to the show, its producers or should in any way reflect on them.
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A lone rider streaks across the open meadow, the powerful movement of the horse carrying the rider effortlessly. The rider leans into the sleek beast as its hooves pound the soft dirt of the Kansas prairie. At a full gallop, the rider and the horse seem as one. The full mane of the horse blowing handsomely in the wind as the opulent mane of hair blows out from the head of the rider. She sits upright in the saddle as she reins the horse to a trot. Slowing, she pulls the horse to a stop and props one shapely leg over the saddle horn. Absorbing the warm afternoon, she sits proud in the saddle and looks off to the West as the afternoon sun eases toward the horizon.
Behind the rider, a wall of dark gray clouds can be seen. A light wind is blowing at their backs. The horse's ears perk and his nostrils flair. Carried along the wind is the scent of rain. The rider becomes aware of the scent of the changing weather, her nose catching the soft scent of a summer rain shower. She knows that the unpredictability of the Kansas summer storms means she should find shelter as soon as she can. Turning in the saddle, she looks out over the treetops at the cloudbanks off to the East. Dark gray clouds with areas tinged with green, signal that the pending storm could be bad. The wind is already picking up and the air just a bit cooler.
She knows of a hunting cabin a mile or so from her location. Perhaps this place will offer some shelter from the impending storm. As lightening strikes light up the clouds far behind her, she turns the horse towards the south. A thought of making a run for home and the security of the barn flits through her mind briefly. But the desire and common sense not to be caught exposed to the possible violence of the Kansas weather overtakes the silly thought of trying to out run the storm. Spurring the great steed to action she leans in once more and urges him forward, seeking shelter a soon as possible.
She knows the layout of the landscape like the back of her hand and soon they have arrived at the old cabin. Surveying the dilapidated old structure, she has second thoughts. Perhaps being in this old run-down piece of history doesn't make as much sense as she originally thought. She has one more place of shelter in mind.
As the rain begins with some sprinkles, she turns back the way they came and seeks her alternative. By the time they arrive at the old smoke house the rain has begun to come harder. Though the wind has yet to pick up, she is relatively soaked. Coming to the entry way to the old long forgotten smoke house, she quickly dismounts and leads the trusting animal into the building. Built years ago out of clay and rock, the old spacious building was once used to smoke meat. Larger than most smoke houses of it's time, history had told her that the owner had smoked large quantities of buffalo and beef to offer in trade to wagon trains headed West through the area. The smokehouse owner traded his meat for whatever the pioneers wished to trade.
Leading Donetello through the doorway they were now inside the spacious room. Dark and dank with the heavy smell of smoke permeating the walls, it was still a solid structure. The four walls made of clay and rock they were almost three feet thick. The roof was flat, built with old railroad ties and covered with another two feet of earth. The entire structure was built to keep the smoke inside so as to cure the hanging sides of beef, deer and buffalo.
Just as she lead her horse inside, the skies opened up and a downpour ensued. As the rains began in earnest, the winds began to blow. Soaked to the skin, Lana Lang found the flap of her saddlebag, and reach in to pull out her emergency clothes. Finding the thick heavy sweatshirt she had placed in the saddlebag for just this occasion, she laid it across the saddle and stripped out of her western style shirt. She shivered as she stood there in her bra, her skin glistening in the soft light, wet with the rain.
She quickly donned the sweatshirt and hugged her arms around herself in hopes of becoming somewhat warmer. She folded her shirt neatly and placed it in the saddlebag and stood looking out the door waiting for the storm to blow through.
These storms were a way of life in Kansas. And in thirty minutes or so the storm blew over and the sun popped out into a brilliant blue Kansas sky. Lana lead Donetello out of the smokehouse and into the sunlight. The sweatshirt immediately became too much. She walked around the horse and reached into the other saddlebag and found a tank top. Knowing she was alone on the prairie, she dropped her normal modesty and swiftly pulled the sweatshirt over her head and pulled on the tank top. Placing the sweatshirt in the saddlebag, she led the horse out a way from the building and mounted him. She sat in the saddle for a few minutes relishing the fresh rain-cleaned air as the now hot and humid summer sun rapidly warmed her skin. Her bare arms and face absorbed the heat and she felt good for the first time in a long time.
This was the first time she had ventured out on such a journey since her leg was broken when the horse spooked that evening in the barn with Lex. The leg was healed and as strong as ever. Her brief encounter with Adam nothing more than a bad memory. She was young, full of life and ready for one of the best summers of her life. She was determined to close the gap that had grown between her and Clark. She regretted the comment in the hospital about needing to stay away from him. She put it off to the drugs. He apparently had taken her seriously.
Lana knew Clark was feeling guilty about the number of times interaction with him seemingly put her in danger. But he had always been there for her. She knew the risks of life and she accepted them. She truly didn't blame him for the incident with the horse. And the ensuing weeks of physical therapy had taught Lana something about herself. She was no longer the weak self-pitying child, whining for her long dead parents. True, she would continue to miss them as only a child would miss the parents who had been taken from her so young. But missing them and pining over something that could never be were two different things.
Once again, she relished in the warmth of the sun and the clean clear air. The quick storm and ensuing sunshine had brought other creatures of the prairie out into the open. A Kansas rattlesnake lounged upon a rock, soaking up the warmth of the afternoon. The snake had no idea that he was about to meet Smallville High's most beautiful coed.
Walking the horse slowly, gathering her thoughts and thoroughly enjoying the afternoon, Lana was absorbed in the day and her thoughts as the horse walked along, headed on a slow trip back toward the barn.
The lounging snake was suddenly aware of the approaching horse. Becoming instantly aware of his surroundings, he waited without movement. The horse and rider were getting closer.
In a split second a series of events occurred that would change Lana Lang's life forever. The rattlesnake sensed the impending rider and horse as danger and its tail began to send out a warning signal. The horse, being instinctively spooked by the sound of a rattler, reared. And Lana, holding loosely to the reins was sent flying unceremoniously to the ground. The hard landing knocked the breath out of her and her head hit a rock and knocked her unconscious. She lay unconscious on the ground as the horse's hooves came down perilously close to her head; its sharp hooves neatly severing the snake's head from its body. The scene played out in seconds.
Within minutes, Lana began to regain consciousness. She awoke slowly. She became slowly aware of what had happened. She had briefly heard the rattle of the snake but could not react fast enough to keep from being thrown. She took inventory of her body. Her head hurt but that appeared to be all. She cautiously raised her hand to her head. She felt a bump, but no blood and nothing else hurt. Her leg was not pained. Her back felt fine. She decided she would attempt to sit up. Steeling herself against the pain she was expecting she sat up. No pain. She did, as a matter of fact, feel pretty good.
Lana looked around at the scene before her. She saw the snake, its head neatly severed from its body.
Good ol' Donetello, she thought. He was always there to protect her. Raising her gaze, she wondered where her horse was. The sight that greeted her eyes caused her to shake her head, trying to bring things back into focus. Standing there with her horse, watching her intently while he stroked the horse's nose, was a man. A larger than life man with long flowing white hair and beard stood looking back at her with the kindest eyes she had ever seen. His physical presence was surreal enough, but what was immediately striking was how he was dressed. He wore a robe with brilliant bright colors infused in the fabric. Each color appeared to shimmer, as if alive, into the next color. It was almost more than her brain could comprehend. He looked for the world like professor Dumbledore of Harry Potter fame.
"I see the spill has left you none the worse for wear?" He said in a deep bass voice.
Ok, Lana thought. Now my hallucinations speak to me. Hmmppff. Wonder if that's normal?
"No, I am not a hallucination." He replied as if reading her mind.
Getting slowly to her feet, Lana felt no fear or discomfort at the sudden appearance of this man. She walked slowly toward him testing her recently injured leg.
Looking intently at this strangely dressed man, she said,
"Sooo, who are you?"
