As far as she was concerned, this was just a big thunderstorm. Irina had never heard of hurricanes, the late-winter storms that ravaged the coasts of the more tropical islands; in the Cavern, they were safe from everything, the cool darkness forever a moist seventy degrees Fahrenheit. Oh, it had rained, outside of course, and sometimes the wind shook the high-reaching trees surrounding their hideaway so hard they nearly bent from the invisible fingers pushing them, but it was nothing like this. Ivan had told her of large, funnel-shaped clouds sweeping across Luthien, places on Cimarron where the earth shook, days of endless rain, blizzards... but nothing like this.

The sky poured bucketfuls of water on them, and the wind managed to find its way even through the trees, pulling at her mane and tail and crushing flying leaves onto one side of her skin. She waited, sopping wet and shaking, in the wake of the stallion's flight, and she was just about sure he'd left her to her own defenses when he came quickly back towards her, his golden body the one constant amidst the swaying of the thick-barreled trees. Irina was glad to see him, whoever he was, but he came upon her so quickly that she took a few steps back. The smoky mare was unable to avoid him, and he pressed his forehead to her neck, as if urging her onward. His motions only confused her; it would be his words that struck fear within her.

Though she knew not what a hurricane was, she knew very well the sound of terror. And his voice positively reeked of it. Her eyes grew wide, and she realized just how bad things were becoming around them: the thunder filled her ears, deafening over the stallion's shouting, and she was already soaked through despite it only having rained for a few minutes, sheets of it pouring through the canopy in places. The wind bent the trees to its will, threatening to knock her over, and as the stranger raced away, Irina found herself following him, going as fast as she dared over the quickly-muddied soil of the jungle floor.

When she saw the river, she knew immediately where to go. Farther along, the riverbanks sloped up, rising high above the water. She rounded it, coming around and stepping on the thin stretch of bank. Sure enough, below the thick carpet of grass was a small crevice, not big enough to be an actual cave but wide and deep enough to just shelter them. The river was lower at this point, and farther from the entrance, so if it rose - and judging by the sheet of water pouring from the top of the cave, sealing the entrance, it would - they'd be safe from it for a while. Irina stood by the mouth of the divet, whinnying to attract the stranger's attention, and if he came to her she would go inside, crowding close to one of the walls to make room for him.

Her sides heaved from exertion, and her skin was soaked through, her coat stained nearly black and her mane and tail plastered to her sides. Irina's blue eyes studied him, wary but curious, and her ears pivoted uncertainly atop her poll. "Who..." She paused, taking a deep breath. "Who are you?"

Even louder, in the back of her mind: Where is O Melhor?