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Gemma and her two little ones almost ran her down as she exited. Now, with the Town Hall all boarded up, Gemma was right; it was a safer place to be. The wind would still make one hell of an impression by sound once one were inside there, but outside... it was beginning to truly tear at her. The councilwoman wore her mane in a tightly rolled-up braid and stepped out of the way for Gemma and the children to pass, joining Tiva near the Great Fire, holding a satchel. It was an awkward feeling, and she could see how uncomfortable Tiva was, embodied in her stance. In truth, what they were doing was blasphemy. But had they any choice? She doubted if Chief Aatu would have made the decision otherwise. They had no time to send messengers, nor could they risk the fire.
Gemma came to join them again, and Ulilohi spoke loudly, her deep voice now backed up with the strength of her stomach muscles, so her voice could be heard over the sheer noise of the weather around them. She handed the satchel gingerly to Tiva as she spoke. "Take large embers, as many as you can fit inside." The satchel had been constructed for this very purpose, and she hoped it would not fail them now. The craftsman who had made it, years and years ago, had hardened its inside. It was not a soft bag like her water skin was, but almost as if it was made from wood. Saturated with something, and scorched on the inside to keep it from catching fire. It was hard and solid. She hoped it would allow them to save the fire. What would she do if it did not work? The thought was unbearable. The failure too great to comprehend. Her work here was for this -- preservation, protection. If she failed this, she might as well just turn back and go back home. Or better, escape the shame and run away, as Maska had done. "Gemma, use one of the dead torches, maybe, to roll some embers out?" It was only so much poking one could do before the whole fire collapsed; exactly the opposite of what they were aiming for.
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