The Volcano

    Returning outside once more, the volcanic peak was in evidence to the south, an outlier of a range that marched away into the distance. Unlike the distant higher mountains, this peak wasn’t iced with snow. Instead it was smoking. A steady column of smoke mounted leisurely above, and more issued from its western flank.
As if it had been waiting for an audience, the volcano blew. First of all, it vented from the western slope. An enormous chunk of mountain scattered, followed a second or two later by a thunder that seemed to come from inside the observers’ heads. The volcano roared like a monstrous canon. The curlorn reared and screamed in fear. A column of pumice and other debris was now being pumped steadily towards the stratosphere, darkening the sky. Not satisfied yet with its performance the mountain peak ruptured, scattering more scalding debris in all directions. Luckily for the onlookers the breeze took most of the ash westwards, otherwise they would surely have suffocated. Fragments began to fall around them and onto the roof of the building, so they hastily returned inside for shelter, joined by the curlorn.
After a couple of hours, the volcanic column collapsed, sending down the mountain side a glowing avalanche of superheated gases, pumice, rocks and ash. The avalanche separated into fast-moving surges, which raced across the lake and blasted its way through the village. A slower, ground-hugging pyroclastic flow divided the lake into two and buried the village without trace.