Did I?

Guiltily, she remembered how excited she’d been: their first thunderstorm. Everyone had cheered, and none of them had thought for more than a second of the people in the storm’s path. The guardians had made sure no Alorrians suffered, but clearly no one had been careful of where the storm hit before it crossed the border. When the rain and wind guardians had summoned the thunderstorm, the one she’d flown through, had they guided it over the outpost?

But that’s not my fault!

Maybe it was no one’s fault. Maybe it was an accident. Maybe they hadn’t known the outpost was there. She couldn’t believe anyone would steer a storm through a place with people intentionally.

The third rescuer—​a teenage girl with black straggly hair and a scar on the corner of her lips—​snorted, reminding her of Chauda. “She’s not going to do anything. None of them care what happens to us.”

“Don’t talk like that, Eione,” Neela scolded. “They don’t know any better, that’s all.”

Eione snorted again but didn’t say anything else. She bent back over Pixit, affixing his bandage with a dot of resin that she warmed between her fingers—​Mina had seen Mother do the same when Gaton had sprained his arm falling out of the old apple tree.

“We can weather the storms,” Neela said, as she dug another bandage for Pixit out of her pack. “It’s these poor dears who are always surprised when they can’t, thinking they can control the uncontrollable.”

We can control it, Mina wanted to say. I’m just not good at it.

“We can weather most storms, yes,” Varli said. “Eione here has been through some terrible ones. But stars and moon help us all when the ten-year storms come.” He pressed his fingertips to his forehead, like Mother did sometimes to ward off bad luck. It was so strange to think of these people as having any of the same mannerisms as her family. She’d expected outsiders to—​well, she hadn’t known what to expect. None of her books had been about non-Alorrians. Maybe they’re not so different from us.

“I suppose you’re not going to ask her to do something about the ten-year storms?” Eione said.

“She’s only a child,” Neela repeated. “Younger than you.”

“Dangerous child,” Eione muttered.

Mina wanted to ask what the “ten-year storms” were, what they thought she could do about them, and why Eione thought she was dangerous. Her questions must have shown on her face, because Varli answered her.

“The last ten-year storm flattened the outpost,” Varli said sadly. “We didn’t have the early warning we have now, and not everyone made it out in time. Lives were lost.”

“Like I said, her kind don’t care,” Eione said. “I don’t know why you’re bothering pretending she does.”

Of course I care!