Really depended on whether she was on the surface or not. Uncle Poseidon had a hell of a mean streak, and the storms in the Rift of Thessaly were intense. Hopefully this was not something of that magnitude.

Her cauldron was heavy, and she doubted much could move it. Still, she made sure to clean up anything around it that could be tossed about, and then headed to her tent — just in time, too. Rain was already coming down, the thunder was roaring, and the wind nearly threw her off her feet as she hurried inside. "Gadriel! Now!"