The woman chuckled. She was holding a clay mug and dressed in layers of brown. Frizzy hair poked out from under her hood. “You were told all non-Alorrians were pathetic creatures who can’t even help themselves, or some such nonsense? We’re the search-and-rescue team from Dern—​that’s the nearest outpost.” She gestured toward the base of the mountain. “My name’s Neela, and this is Varli and Eione. We’re out every storm, looking for strays. Usually it’s a sheep. Or a foolhardy trader who thought she could make it home before the weather worsened. We don’t see many of your kind.”

Mina swallowed. Her mouth felt chalky, and her head was swimming. It was hard to think. Instead she focused on the lantern with its odd light. “I don’t . . .” She wanted to tell them she didn’t know anything about outsiders. She’d always been curious, but she’d never really expected to meet them. Especially not like this.

She felt her shoulder, poking it gingerly. It had been dressed in clean white bandages, and it felt better. It barely hurt.

“We put bone-ache medicine on it. You tell that to your doctors—​you’ll need to put fresh medicine on in a day if it’s to keep healing. And use your arm as little as possible. Same goes for your storm beast. He’s to fly as little as possible until he heals.”

“But we have to—”

Neela stopped her, not unkindly. “Cross the mountain. I know. You’re not the first guardian to be blown off course. These storms you play with are dangerous, whether you know it or not.”

The mushiness inside Mina’s head was beginning to fade, and she noticed that the rain had stopped. She wondered how much time had passed. Jyx will be coming back soon. We need to cross the mountain! “How soon—”

“As soon as he’s patched up, we’ll help you cross. Your own people will find you on the other side.” Smiling warmly, she patted Mina’s unhurt shoulder. She reminded Mina of their neighbor, a woman who mothered every child who came within five miles of her farm. Mina had eaten plenty of sunflower muffins on her porch.

One of the other rescuers, Varli, a man with a bushy brown beard, spoke. His voice was gentle, as if she were a deer he didn’t want to startle. “Just the next time you want to play with the weather, we’d appreciate it if you’d steer your storm away from our outpost? It’s only a few buildings. Shouldn’t be hard to go around.”

Neela clucked at him. “She’s just a child. She’s not steering storms on her own.” To Mina she said, “Still, once you’re trained, perhaps you could think more about who you hurt with your fun and games.”

Mina felt herself flush with embarrassment. But I didn’t hurt anyone!