The wind tore at Jin as he fell.
The rain fell with him, all around him, so thick he could barely tell which way was up. The mountain wall rushed past on his left, a grey blur streaked with water. Below him there was nothing but dark cloud and the roar of something deep and heavy, like a river thundering through a canyon he couldn't see.
He still had the fan.
He twisted in the air, got his feet under him as best he could, and snapped it open. He knew this weapon now. He knew where the wind lived inside it and how to call it out, and he called it, sweeping the fan down beneath him as hard as he could.
The wind came. It rushed up under him and caught him, and his fall jerked and slowed, his stomach lurching into his throat. He swept again and slowed more.
Then he looked around and saw the others still falling past him.
