Brigid tries to pick up the tent toppled by wind, but finds that as soon as she tries to pick up one side, the other side falls over. Her hair is wet from the rain, which flows along her forehead and into her eyes. She fidgets at the uncomfortable sensation of her clothes being stuck to her skin. They are getting heavier, and colder. 'It's no good', she mutters, as she reluctantly lays down the canvas and sticks. Brigid spreads open a map made from beast hide, running her finger over it to find the nearest shelter—a Catastrophe Messenger hut about two kilometers from her location, in the same direction as the wind. Perhaps she can make it if she runs? Fortunately, the burdenbeasts have been housed, and she only needs find a place for herself tonight. 'Run, Brigid, run. You can keep running if you do not find the hut, until you reach the town, or perhaps a little shed along the way that would provide shelter against the rain.' Then, she sees the faint silhouette of a house in the distance. She wipes the raindrops off her face and takes cover under the eaves. She knocks on the door, but there is no answer. There're knots signifying 'safety' hanging from the doors and windows. She touches them before going in. No one has been here for a while. Even the knots at the door have grown hardened and pricked her hands. At least the roof is in good shape, keeping the wind and rain out. Brigid lays down her luggage, finds some wood to light a fire, and hangs a rope to dry her clothes. Finally, she puts all the dried fabric she can find in a bundle before the fireplace and huddles up with her hair still wet, slumbering away while the rain continues battering the windows. The fire has gone out by the time she wakes up, but she feels no cold. She frees herself from the bundle of cloth and walks towards the windows. She notices that the knots she saw yesterday have been all blown away, some falling into the mud, and others flying quite a distance, hanging on the trees. Before she leaves, she takes out some ropes from her luggage and ties two knots in the same fashion as the ones she found, hanging one at the door and the other at the windows. 'Thanks for the hospitality!' It is bright and sunny outside. Looking back, she realizes that the hut is quite old and battered. She thanks the hut and looks up at the sky. 'Thank you wind, thank you rain, for taking it easy—' A breeze sways the knots hanging in front of the windows, causing the chimes upon them to ring, perhaps in response, or perhaps in farewell.