"No, wind. With some water I guess," he says, a nod toward his fog manipulation, but he doesn't control water the way that those of Yunmeng do, or some of the other Lan disciples. (Elemental prowess, after all, is partly genetic, partly random luck draw.)

Esteban may or may not notice that there's only gentle windpull on him, and he's kept warmer by being close to Jingyi's body; were he to extend a hand out far, he'd feel the temperature difference abruptly, and even the increased wind factor of Jingyi's flight. The dragon's only manipulating the air close to him or around the woman in his claws, and it's barely any time at all for him to arrive at the central supply tents and the associated medical tents, where he coils himself in a spiral with his head closest to the ground, providing access for Esteban to the ground in the open area far too small to support Jingyi's uncoiled bulk.

"Here, find the medics in charge, I'll keep any refugees from charging in new."

Meaning if any were already in those medical tents, that was slightly beyond his easy grasp.