The council meeting was set for noon. The squall reached the village before breakfast.
The harbor bell struck twice, then stopped. Han was already out of the guest house when the signaler shouted that the storm line had turned. Wind came down from the ridge in hard gusts, driving spray over the quay.
“Boats above the tide mark,” Han called. “Tie them to the upper posts. Keep the chain winch clear until Pema arrives.”
Lian sent two older children to carry the message to the western roofs. She waved the youngest and the slowest toward the stone hall, where the walls were thick and the roof low. People moved at once. No one needed to be told twice where the blankets and shutters were stored.
Suyin ran from the clinic with a basket of dry cloths. “The lower houses are still occupied.”
“I’ll take the north path,” Yan said.
“Stay where the signal crew can see you,” Han said, then pointed to the rope line leading uphill. “The wind can take your feet on the stone steps.”
He secured his belt to the rope and went down with Suyin. They helped an old couple close their shutters and guided a child carrying a wooden box toward the hall. The child insisted the box held his family’s cooking bowls. Suyin took one end, and they carried it together.
