"Not at all, Señor. I'll find somebody to help you with your roof," Alma smiled. She glanced at the clear sky. One more hour, and then she would eat, Alma decided. After all, despite the growling of her stomach, there was still work to be done. There were children to be fed, disputes to be settled, and ever since Teresa the seamstress had taken ill a few days back, clothes to be mended. She sighed. Perhaps she would teach Julieta to make arepas some other day.

Alma was so deep in thought that she didn't see the sky darken. Nor did she feel the first few droplets of rain. It was only when Gustavo the baker knocked her to the ground did Alma notice the piercing wind or the thunderclaps or the uprooted tree trunk that would have killed her if not for him. Around her people were screaming. And for a moment, just a moment amidst the chaos and fear, Alma was back on that riverbank, clutching her newborn children to her breast. In front of her, the storm was growing, the winds howling louder, the rain falling heavier. And in the center of it all was the Casita.

Pepa.

She choked down her panic, trying to look brave for the frightened townspeople running amok. As calmly as she could, she ordered, "Get back to your houses if you can and bar the doors. If you cannot, take shelter as fast as you can." As the village scrambled to obey, Alma turned and ran.

The wind had grown even fiercer, almost throwing her back. Gritting her teeth, Alma dragged herself to the front door. Glass and scraps of paper, and leaves, and all sorts of rubbish were flying around. Casita was mending itself as fast as bits of it were being destroyed. And in the kitchen, in the eye of the storm, was Pepa, her little face red, her hair in disarray, and her eyes flooded with tears.

"NO! I WON'T! I HATE YOU!" Pepa screamed, oblivious to the mayhem around her. Julieta and Bruno were cowering in the corner, a mixture of fear and guilt etched on their faces. Bruno's hands were clamped over his ears. As Alma looked on in horror, a bolt of lightning slammed into the ground from the sky. Her skin tingling from the electricity in the air, she finally found her voice.

"Josefa Victoria Madrigal! What in God's name has gotten into you?" Alma demanded. Upon seeing her, Pepa's tantrum gave way to shock. The storm seemed to subside a little. As Pepa opened her mouth to speak, Julieta emerged from her hiding place.

"It's our fault, Mamá," she said, looking contrite.

"What? No, it isn't!" Bruno glared, "It was Pepa, she started it."

"No, I didn't!" Pepa stomped her feet. The storm started to surge again.

"¡Basta!" Alma shouted. "All of you, go to your rooms!"

The children obeyed, Bruno and Julieta glaring at each other, and Pepa sniffling through loud sobs. Alma took a deep breath and surveyed the damage. The bags of flour that were to be the next day's bread lay strewn open on the ground. The floors were covered in leaves and sticks and God knows what else. Puddles of water soaked almost every surface that Alma could see. Floorboards had been ripped off. Windows had been shattered.

"Casita?" Alma called. One of the shutters still attached to the walls waved. "Let's fix this, shall we?" Casita obliged. Shards of glass flew back to form the windows that they originally were part of. Floorboards and bricks settled back seamlessly to their original locations. Doors and shutters flew back on their hinges. As a broom started to move across the ruined kitchen of its own accord, Alma held up a hand. "But not all of this, Casita," she said with a slight smile. The broom seemed to nod as if it understood.

Although the thunder had stopped, it was still raining heavily. Alma looked out a window. The river was swollen, on the verge of flooding over. The crops were starting to wilt. If she didn't act now, the food supply for the whole Encanto was in danger. Bracing herself, Alma started towards Pepa's room. She opened the door, "Pepita?"

"Leave me alone," Pepa sniffled.

"Not until you stop crying," Alma said, sitting on the bed beside her.

"Are you mad at me?" Pepa asked timidly.

"No, but…" Alma's voice trailed off. She took a deep breath and started again, "I know it's hard right now, but you can't keep crying. You'll flood the village. You have to stop crying now." The last part came out a bit sterner than she hoped. Pepa's face fell even more.

"It's not fair! Bruno and Julieta took my doll! And they played with her without me! And when I asked them to give it back, he took it to his room and buried it!" Pepa was wailing again.

them, a flash of lightning struck the ground. Alma felt the tension rise in her heart. She had to calm Pepa down before she destroyed everything.

"It's not about what they did, Josefa!" Alma said, a tad forcefully. "It's what you're doing now! Come with me." She led Pepa by the hand to the kitchen. Pepa's eyes widened at the sight of all the damage.

"I did that?" She asked in horror. To Alma's relief, she seemed to have forgotten about her rage. The rain began to thin.

"Not just that, Mija." She choked down the guilt. Pepa had to know the consequences of her actions, what her powers could do, what she could do if she lost control. Alma opened the door. Upon seeing the ruined landscape, Pepa's lower lip trembled. Water started streaming out of her eyes. The sky, which was slowly brightening began to darken again before-

"Pepa, you have a cloud," Alma warned.

Pepa looked up, guilt covering her features at the realization. She took a deep breath, and the cloud dissipated. "Lo siento, Mamá." She took another breath and the rain stopped completely. Another breath and the sun started to emerge.

"Come with me, Mija," Alma said, holding out her hand. Pepa took it expectantly. "You have other people who need to hear your apologies."

They slowly but steadily knocked on every door in the village, Alma announcing that it was safe to come out and feeding the injured the pandebonos that Julieta had prepared the day before and Pepa stammering out a stream of apologies. A few times Alma caught some of the children and even some of the adults making dirty looks at Pepa, which would cause a cloud to materialize above her head. Alma managed to quell the villagers with a well placed glare of her own, and after a few gentle but firm urgings, Pepa was dispelling the clouds as soon as they appeared. By the end of the day, all the villagers were accounted for, all the damage had been surveyed, and Pepa was making the last of her apologies.

"Lo siento, Señora Ramírez. I'll try very hard for this not to happen again."

Her hand slipped back into Alma's. Alma crouched down to look her in the eye. "When you spill something, what do I tell you to do?"

"Clean it up," Pepa answered dutifully.

"Correct. Tomorrow, you'll come with me, and you'll help us clean up the village. We'll need clear sunny skies to dry up the rain and wind to blow away the wreckage." Pepa nodded.

"Mamá?" she asked, "What about Casita?"

Alma smiled conspiratorially, "I think Bruno and Julieta will manage just fine on their own, don't you?"