The storm ignores every command I shout as Lucas. Rain lashes the flooded bridge, the rescue rope jerks through my hands, and the trapped bus slides closer to the river. Then I remember the name whispered by the weather radio: Liora. The moment I say it, the wind pauses and my voice rises. Each repetition changes more. Wet hair lengthens across my shoulders, my coat tightens over a new shape, and the crew begins taking orders from the soaked woman holding the line. I keep insisting this is temporary, but the river responds only to her.