Ophelia has taken a liking to night tempests, which she has resolved to treat with respect, so she refers to them as they are, by the names they give themselves and not in any human tongue. Her traveling companions get worried if she goes off after midnight to feel the lightning arcing white-hot from one knuckle to the next, even though it’s none of their business, and even her brother, who ought to understand better than anyone. This is why she usually travels alone, along with a growing distaste for chatter and casual touch.