“Okay ra ka diha, ‘te Jo?!” (Are you okay there, ‘te Jo?!) Ice’s voice was almost drowned in the cacophony of rain, thunder, and rushing water inside my tent. “Di!” (No!) I was holding the poles of the tent, preventing it from flying away. The wind hammered against it to no end. Again, lightning struck. It illuminated the slanted poles and the sagging fly for a split second. Like the tent, I shrank, hoping the lightning could not find us. Then, a thunderous roar filled the small space inside.