Bottled Storms

A young apprentice to a Weather-Keeper learns to capture storms, breezes, and sunbeams inside glass bottles. When a terrible tempest is set loose, the apprentice must journey across the sky-touched lands to set the weather right.

High on the Hill of Quiet Winds, where the clouds came down to nap and the grass smelled like rain that had not yet fallen, stood a crooked little tower made of blue glass. Inside lived the Weather-Keeper, old Master Brindle, and his apprentice, a girl named Wren.

Wren had been Brindle's apprentice for three whole seasons. Her job was to dust the thousands of bottles that lined the tower walls, each one glowing softly with the weather trapped inside. Some held lazy spring breezes that hummed like sleepy bees. Others held thunderstorms that grumbled and flickered behind the glass. The tallest bottle on the highest shelf held a single golden sunbeam, so bright Wren had to squint when she walked past it.

'Weather is not a thing you own,' Master Brindle liked to say, tapping his nose. 'It is a thing you borrow, and a thing you must always, always return.' Wren nodded every time, though she did not yet understand. She only knew she loved this place more than anywhere in the world.

'Come, Wren,' the old man called one foggy morning, his beard full of tiny clouds. 'Today you learn the first true secret of our craft. Today you learn to catch the wind.'