Fay noticed that his sister began to shiver. He needed to find a way to warm them both, but all around was darkness and the sound of rushing water. He couldn't climb down yet, and it seemed the others had long since left.
All he could hear was the storm raging overhead—and something else. A beast, perhaps, whose powers induced the storm onto the plains. It wasn't safe, but he had to act and fast.
"Today's not my day… Mira, please stay here. I'll try to find something warm for us, okay?"
Mira couldn't even speak; her mouth trembled just trying to form a sound.
"Relax. I'll be back. Just don't move, alright?"
Fay made sure to stress that last part.
He climbed down from the small cavity and began crossing through the cold water. The rain refused to stop. Just walking through it felt like pushing against a raging river.
Some tents still stood. He headed toward them, hoping one might have a coat or at least some dry wood. The first was hard to reach, blocked by a log stabbed through the entrance. It had kept the water out but also made it impossible for Fay to get inside.
The next tent looked sturdier, tied down to a large stone—it seemed this wasn't the first time such a storm had hit.
Fay's own tent had been borrowed, and whatever little he owned had probably washed away by now.
He entered the second tent carefully. Clothes were scattered across the floor, all soaked and useless for now. Judging by the amount, it must have belonged to one of the leatherworkers.
Too bad most of it would have to be dried out the next day—if it survived the night.
Still, as he moved through the space, he felt a few garments that weren't completely drenched. Lit only by flashes of distant lightning, he gathered them into a bundle and rushed back outside.
Dodging hazards and doing his best to shield the clothes from more rain, Fay made his way back to his sister.
"Mira, here! Wrap yourself up until you're warm, okay?"
He tossed all the clothes to her, keeping none for himself. He was far too soaked to benefit from them anyway, and there wasn't enough for them both.
Mira weakly obeyed, curling into a ball. The two of them could only wait now, not knowing if morning would come or if the water would rise higher.
Fortunately, after about an hour, whatever had caused the storm moved on. But it had taken a heavy toll on the village; only a few tents remained standing.
Fay did his best to cling to the wall, staying out of the cold wind. His jaw ached from the relentless chattering of his teeth.
[Kid, is that you? The leader sent me to search for anyone who didn't make it to the shelter. Are you with your sister?]
Suddenly, a voice reached him through the dark. Two amber eyes glowed nearby.
"Is that you, Honha? Yes—I have Mira with me. Can you help me carry her?"
Fay was spent. He had no strength left to carry Mira, not after staying up most of the night. The other two night watchers had rested—he hadn't.
[Alright, but hurry. We've got more to rescue.]
Fay followed close behind. He had to stay near so he wouldn't lose sight of her in the dark. The catfolk girl seemed able to see much better than he could. They moved through the battered village and deeper into the canyon, where—about forty meters in—they found a slight slope leading into a cavernous shelter ahead.
[I think you can handle your sister from here. I need to go back and continue the search, alright?]
The woman, Honha, carefully placed Mira on Fay's back before running back out into the darkness. Fay had only one choice left: to head deeper into the shelter. He could barely walk with his limited stamina, but eventually, he spotted firelight ahead—flames flickering inside a cavern, with people huddled around it.
Soon, the voice of an older woman called out to him.
[Seems the leader was right—you're a brave one, and someone who takes care of their own. Bring your sibling over. We'll have some tea ready for her. It should help prevent illness, though we don't have much left thanks to the rain. I'm afraid you'll have to weather it without.]
Fay nodded and gently laid Mira down near the fire.
"It's fine. I've never gotten sick before..."
Mira soon warmed up and was given a small clay cup filled with steaming water. Fay had to help her drink it, but it was worth it—he saw life return to her face.
The same couldn't be said for him. Fay felt exhausted, his throat itching, and a few sharp coughs made it hard for him to sit still.
Around the fire, others huddled for warmth. Some—those whose families were safe—tried to sleep on the stone floor. Others waited anxiously by the cavern entrance, hoping for word of missing loved ones.
Fay scanned the room. He recognized a few faces: the girl who'd traded his coat for a robe, the tribal leader and his daughter, a couple of warriors, and a priest. But most of the villagers were still unfamiliar to him; unless they spoke with him regularly, he would not be able to recognize them.
What struck him most was the silence. No one sang, laughed, or played instruments as they often did in the evenings. The mood was heavy.
Then, he saw Horin. She was moving tirelessly, tending to the wounded, handing out warm drinks to the children. The way she moved, with steady resolve, made it clear how seriously she took her role as the tribe leader's daughter.
But Fay couldn't spot her father.
Every few minutes, another warrior returned—sometimes carrying someone, sometimes just reporting a death. It was chaotic… and painfully quiet when the bad news came. Just like humans, the catfolk mourned and wept.
Fay coughed again and turned toward Mira, who now slept peacefully in a bundle of clothes. She even had the luxury of using some as a pillow.