When I awoke, I was somewhere else. I was inside of a small, round, one-person tent with straight walls and a slanted roof, and there was a large amount of activity outside. There was little room in the tent, much of it taken up by a slightly singed table and a chair, as well as the foldable bed I was situated upon.

Lighting was provided by a lantern with a candle inside that hung from the middle of the ceiling, but it wasn't exactly necessary, as the tent had some sort of raised, roofed opening in the ceiling from which sunlight was shining inside.

In the corner, Raven was sitting on... on... on something, my eyes kept sliding off it...

Aha! It was my backpack, with the cloak still over it. Someone must've brought it here. But how? And who? Where was I anyways?

I noticed my clothes folded neatly on the chair, and quickly dressed myself, splashing my face with a bit of water and doing my best to get rid of the smudges.

My arm still seemed to be somewhat damaged, but the repair mechanism appeared to be active, as I had a lot of mobility back. Still no tactile sense, but proper movement was more important anyhow.

Taking care not to wake Raven, I leaned the staff from where it'd been lying on the floor to the wall, grabbed my sword and slung the scabbard over my shoulders before parting the doors and stepping outside.

If anything, it was even more hectic than the previous day. Where before, there'd been a pervasive sense of dread over everything, now everyone exuded a fierce determination. Over the brisk wind and the flickering braziers dotting the large muddied street my tent was situated beside, I could hear shouted orders, the rumble of passing carts and the thundering of hooves.

There was some sort of organized effort going on, empty wagons dragged by some of those horned grazers were speeding out of the tent city, while ones filled with various goods came in on the other side of the road.

One of them had many barrels stacked ontop of it, others were stacked with sacks that swayed precariously, and again others had mounds of coal. No, not coal.. scorched wood. Wood from the town, it looked like.

I steeled myself against the biting wind, and walked the side of the road toward the center of the little tent city. When I got closer, I heard people shouting and saw others gesticulating wildly. Still, there was remarkable organisation going on, with the carts being directed based on their contents.

"Treyr(?, possibly a name), where should we unload the firewood?" shouted one of the drivers, and one of the men sitting on a raised platform in the middle of the central square looked at a sheet of papyrus, before pointing into the distance. "The second silo! Hurry, there's a storm coming!"

I looked over the rooftops, and indeed, there were angry black thunderclouds approaching over the rim of the crater.

Taking advantage of a momentary gap in the speeding carts, I clambered onto the raised platform. One of them looked up, recognition in his eyes.

"I remember you! They've been telling wild stories about you and the fire!" He had to raise his voice over the howling wind that was heralding the storm.

"The guard captains want to talk to you! But that's for later, can you help out?" He shouted over a deafening crack of thunder that shook the flimsy roof over their heads.

"Yes! What do you need me to do?" I shouted back.

"Get in one of the carts, and then collect everything worth collecting! We're stocking up for the winter!"

I nodded, and he tapped one of his companions on the shoulder, then shouted something in his ear. The other man nodded, and let out a piercing whistle, which made one of the carts stop. I jumped on it, and we were away.

***

We'd been assigned to collecting some of the remaining produce, and therefore had the longest path before us. The cart swayed dangerously a couple of times as peals of wind hit it head on, but luckily, we stayed on four wheels. I was joined by five others, one driver and four people in the back of the cart with me.

We couldn't speak over the wind and thunder, but I saw that three of them were in bad shape. One of those in the cart with me had a splint over his arm as well as one of the pain-runes upon his forehead; another was holding on for dear life, mumbling something - a prayer, perhaps? and the third had a white-knuckled grip on the side of the cart, his head swiveling all around.

I found out why when he cried out and dragged the two closest to himself, me and the injured one, to the bottom of the cart, just as a large branch whipped through where our heads had just been.

Eventually, the cart skidded to a halt, and the six of us jumped off the cart, each grabbing a large basket.

The field we'd arrived on was half-withered, but our corner still held some living crops. I quickly began doing as the others, and ripped the bulbous, beet-like plants from the ground.

The wagon was just half full when the rain began to pour down.

One of the men, perhaps the driver, gave the same ear-piercing whistle that seemed to be the only thing loud enough to penetrate the howling wind, and everyone dropped what they were doing and ran for it.

I quickly realized why.

Beyond the rain, there was... something else, something much larger than mere raindrops falling from the sky - hail. And big ones, too.

In front of me, the one with the arm injury stumbled and fell, and I wasted valuable seconds pulling him up from the floor and hefting his good arm over my shoulders.

Just before we jumped on the cart, I saw a massive bolt of lightning, which lit up the entire crater for just a moment, striking in the distance. I blinked the stars from my eyes as the driver sped up, and saw one of the other carts burning brightly before being swallowed up by the storm, which seemed to roll over the crater's edge like an avalanche.

"Faster! Faster! Hooo!" shouted the driver over the wind, and I heard the snap of a whip in the air.

A few hundred meters away from the tent city, our luck ran out. There was a deafening crack of thunder, and the cart was sent tumbling as lightning struck a nearby waysign, causing the ground to explode outwards and topple over the cart.

Amidst the breaking wood and scared shrieks of the animal, I head a distinctly organic crunch.

Standing up, the driver and I moved to drag the four others from the wreckage, but I stumbled back when I saw just what had made the noise.

The one who'd been praying was lying there, his head caved in by one of the wheels.

The injured man shook me and pointed towards the tents just a few hundred meters away, and I forced myself to look away from the corpse and begin running again.

Dread pooled in my stomach when I realized we weren't going to make it.

It was too far, and the hailstorm was approaching from behind - risking a quick look, I saw that they weren't just round balls of ice, but actual icicles raining down from the sky. Sharp thorns of meteorological wrath embedded themselves deep into the ground, some of the bigger ones being driven fully into the trodden road.

Suddenly, I felt my magic well up inside of me, taking shape and exploding outwards, and almost felt like crying from relief - then the wind turned and intensified to an unnatural, insane degree, sending the five of us toppling head over heel into the outer tents, tearing through fabric and furniture until we eventually came to a halt.

I found myself inside one of the tents, a child cowering in one corner, the biting wind whipping through the hole I'd just created.

My right leg hurt like absolute hell, so I remained lying inside of the closet shattered by my explosive entry until a group of people came in and gently took away both me and the child.

That's when I fell unconscious again.

***

When I came to, I found myself in the medical tent again, only this time it wasn't as busy. My leg was splinted on both sides, with a strangely ornate bandage spiralling around it, leaving huge gaps and not really doing any bandaging at all, my addled brain supplied, even as I watched dull red runes occasionally pulsing on the fabric.

"Don't touch it," said a voice, and a familiar hand slapped my fingers away. Turning towards its owner, I saw the face of the elderly doctor who'd taught me the anesthetic spell, grinning slightly, "You'll disrupt the magic."

"You did good out there. However you accomplished it, four more people would've lost their lives in the storm." he continued, now poking the bandage himself. Wherever he touched, there was a small spark in the fabric, and the dull runes glowed brighter. After every spark, he rubbed a set of woolen gloves, and I realized that it was just... electricity, not any form of strange mystic power. Magic powered by completely normal electricity. Fascinating.

"Oh, I know that look. Sadly, this technique is a bit more advanced than what I've shown you yesterday. It requires intricate magical knowledge to construct and anatomical knowledge to apply. Broken bones are immensely difficult to heal, I'm afraid that I couldn't teach you this method even if I tried. Greater mediciners than you have failed and caused horrific injury by incorrectly applying it."

"Why? Bones heal by themselves, why does an incorrect healing spell cause more damage?"

"This spell in essence overrides your body's healing process and substitutes its own. By using this sequence for instance, I can shape the Thaj-erai(little-lightning, literal translation, accurate translation not possible at this time) into energy that works to align the bone fragments perfectly. The second sequence, which starts here," he pointed to a symbol further down the ribbon, "will then substitute the original command to form and harden a growth of bone tissue with a much more efficient one, and in essence fuse both ends of the bone into a seamless weld. It will be healed in under two days, when without this it would take many months to restore to its original condition."

"That's amazing."

"Why do you think I studied Healing? It's things like this that grabbed my interest. Healing is the most advanced field of study in our society... though that was not always so, as you probably know."

"What do you mean? Why should I know that?"

He looked perplexed for a moment, before gathering himself. "I... we'd assumed you were one of the Old Folk, the ones who wander the world, no true home, no people? You... They are described like you - thin, mostly hairless, flat faces? I'm sorry, that must sound terribly insulting."

" 'Old Folk' - can't say I've ever been called that before. No, I'm not... originally from here. My home is a bit further away."

"Then forgive me my assumption. I meant no offence, but you look remarkably similar to how I imagined the Old Folk to look like when I was but a child. Where are you from, then? Over the eastern sea? Perhaps the south? Your skin reminds me of the Fenri(Unknown, possible species name?) who hail from those distant sands."

"Are you one of these 'Fenri'?"

"Yes. My people, our people, are called the Fenri. It is a name we have chosen to carry with pride."

Now that's odd wording. Hmm. I thought, not sure what to make of it. 'a name we have chosen'. Weird. Still, I sensed that it was a very risky topic, so I chose to answer. At least, in a manner of speaking.

"I'm the last of my people, as far as I know. We did indeed hail from the ocean. My people were destroyed by a terrible foe, and I was the only survivor. I built a... raft, and simply drifted from island to island," I thought quickly, trying to invent a reasonable analogue for literally hopping dimensions, "I found a group of people I stayed with for a time, but the island they lived on was raided by... pirates. I only just managed to get on my raft, and came ashore on this continent. I've been wandering for a few days until I found your town. I saw that you needed help, so I helped."

"That was very noble of you, stranger. I am san-Eltry. What may I call you?"

"You can call me Amelia, or Amy for short."

"What a strange sounding name. Is it your original language?"

"Yeah."

"Interesting. We will have to speak again sometime, but for now I am needed elsewhere. I bid you farewell, Amelia."

And with that, he finished recharging the runic bandage on my leg. I had much to think about. These... Fenri, whoever they were, obviously had a bad collective past, and their name alone was a source of pride for them. That, along with the fact that apparently 'healing is their most advanced field of magic' painted a bleak picture. I didn't want to assume anything, but I couldn't help but draw connections.

Eventually, one of the other healers came by and offered me a roughly whittled cane, then helped me to my feet.

"Just remember to come by every evening and morning for a few days. And try to keep any weight off your leg."

I nodded, and hobbled outside of the tent.

***

The tent city was swaying in the wind. There was also a slight drizzle, which surprised me. Had I truly lain unconscious through the entire storm?

The answer revealed itself when I neared my own tent. One of the patrolling guards recognized me - he was one of the small group that had formed a line against me when I arrived - and he helped me find my tent.

My tent was apparently free, and given in thanks for my help with the flames and the cleanup, and as such, truly belonged to me. Still, it was in the outskirts of the group of perhaps 150-200 tents, and relatively close to the rim of the town.

As such, I stashed my sword and any other unnecessary weight inside, keeping my cane and then made my way towards the rim of the makeshift shelters.

Because on the way there, it had become clear to me that the storm was by no means over. I'd seen lightning flashing overhead, alongside strangely muffled thunder, and noticed that the clouds overhead were still roiling with barely restrained fury. Nonetheless, there was only a slight drizzle, and the reason for this became obvious as I neared the outskirts.

When I reached the last tent, I was greeted by a wall of wind so strong it dug furrows into the ground. The section I was at was weak compared to its strength further away, so I wandered along the perimeter, feeling the wind get lesser in ruffling my hair and clothing, but much more focused inside of the wall.

Outside, I could still see the large icicles that had rained from the heavens, some sticking from the fields outside the barrier, some lying broken, but the hail had apparently stopped. No, now it was just raining like the apocalypse had come.

When I got to the strongest section of the wall, I saw that there'd been a small tower built, on top of which I could hear someone singing. It wasn't a language I could understand, and the translator simply gave an error message when I tried to prompt it, so I slowly climbed up the wooden ladder that led up to the tower.

At the very top, I could see a small, roofed platform, as well as a very fluffy pillow and a female Fenri, who was the source of the singing. I silently walked around her, seeing that her eyes had neither pupil, iris nor whites, but were instead as cloudy and roiling like the barrier, and then sat silently by her side, looking out at the wall.

It was mesmerizing. Her song did not follow any sort of melody, but there was a certain rhythm to it - it felt wild, unrestrained, and I realized that she wasn't controlling the wind, wasn't subsuming its will or breaking its spirit, but that she was guiding it. Or perhaps petitioning it. Occasionally, the melody seemed to dip into a commanding tone, and the wall smoothed out a spot here and there, but mostly she sang without any visible difference in the wall.

I sat there for a while. She had a very beautiful voice, but I could tell that she was slowly beginning to tire, that her voice was hoarsening, and I found myself hoping that someone would come and take over for her.

Suddenly, she stopped in her song, falling into a hacking cough instead, and the barrier instantly destabilized, allowing us to be pelted with icy rain and deafening thunder.

I was about to grab her, but in an inhuman display of willpower, her voice raised itself above the raging storm, this time as demanding as a general in war. It left no room for interpretation, her voice exuded authority as she literally sang the barrier back into existence.

It took a few minutes of holding on before it was restored, but I could tell the wall was restless, swirling, perhaps even unsatisfied at being forced into the shape it now held. It roiled like the clouds overhead, and a few more minutes after, she was finally released as another woman in the same flowing robes came up the tower, nodded at me once and then tapped her shoulder. Both stood facing one another, and the second woman slowly but surely emulated the first woman's song, before the first woman fell silent and the second one took her place on the pillow, her voice filled with the same sort of gentle guidance the first woman’s had held when I'd found her.

When the two of us were down by the wall once more, she turned toward me, and I noticed her eyes had reverted to something that looked like the other Fenri eyes I'd seen, but cloudy white. I realized with a start that she was blind.

"Normally, it is not permitted to come near a Singer when she is performing for the elements."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know." It struck me how old she looked. Younger than the doctor, yes, but her fur still held wisps of grey.

"Think not of it. Though normally our song is only reserved for the forces of nature, those beautiful and haunting displays of heavenly violence and unearthly beauty, and any mundane mortal coming near while I was performing would rouse their jealousy, I could tell you are more than you appear."

Interest sparked within me. "What do you mean?"

"You hold within yourself a spark, perhaps a shard or a sliver, of that same energy. They recognized you to be their equal, and thus did not deem you a mortal disruption."

I was slightly speechless for a moment, and she smiled knowingly at me before vanishing between two tents.

I'd only realize later that she wasn't using any sort of cane to aid her movement, yet still did not directly seek out my face to look at.

No, she had looked directly at my heart as she was speaking.

I felt an echo of heat within myself.

When I got back that evening, Ref and I talked long into the night, debating the spells I'd seen, the things I'd learned, and my conversation with the old singer.

***

The next morning, I was briskely woken up by a guard rapping the metal of her spear against one of the posts outside my door, and I followed her towards one of the larger tents.

There were three large ones arrayed on the central square, in the middle of which there was a small, but persistently fuelled campfire. One of them was the hospital, which I walked into first to get the runic bandage strengthened, the second was some sort of storehouse or kitchen, while the third one was obviously some sort of command center and/or armory.

My guard companion stayed outside while I parted the tent flaps, only to be greeted by a small, but diverse group of people standing around what looked like a map. Most of them looked up at my approach, with various facial expressions thrown my way. Some of them looked thankful, some neutral, and a few looked at me with suspicion.

I hung my sword beside the others on the wall, then hobbled closer on my cane. Two of the Fenri - the old doctor who taught me the anesthetic spell and another blind woman similar to the singer that I'd met, but younger - parted to make space for me at the table.

"And there she is, the mysterious but convenient sorceress." Said one of the men who'd looked at me in suspicion, sneering across the table.

"Here I am." I said back quietly, almost managing to match his sneer.