The storm shrouded the suns as they rose, crept toward their zeniths, then slowly set. Our cavern afforded good protection but was dark and claustrophobic. Another night passed with no sign of the storm subsiding.

Someone found a tight passageway in the back obscured by boulders. Opening it revealed a second larger chamber, upon which faint etchings reminiscent of pictographs were scrawled. None of us could come close to deciphering them.

Only by the second day did the storm change, and it only grew stronger. Gales of howling wind and furious rain accompanied multicoloured lightning to batter the struggling tarpaulin we had tied over the cavern entrance. One of us had brought a Geiger counter, which rattled angrily when we pointed it outside.

We pieced together our maps. Together they displayed much of what humanity knew of the Weave, whose ruinous portal networks overlapped each other to stretch at least as far as the Orion Threshold. We had barely ventured into its outer shell.

The storm ended suddenly on the third day. Outside, we found the meadows thick with orange grass and pale green pollen-cones. As the clouds parted, we caught a glimpse of a pockmarked moon descending beneath the horizon at a steep angle. If it had caused the storm, we calculated it would be two weeks before it returned, giving us ample time to reach the ocean planet's gate.