There was no warning, the Unevolved samuran tells me. Stung-by-a-bug, if our Bond is anything to go by. Fortunately it clarified for me – I would have called him Throws-a-bone. Our patrols were silent, our guards gave no warning. The earth shuddered beneath our feet, a wave of water following and knocking those of us still standing off our feet. The wave started freezing the water remaining on us, the cold sinking into our limbs and making us feel sleepy and wooden.

  And then they were there, already pouring through the gates. I saw our guards laid on the ground, still. Their armour did not protect them from objects sticking out of their eyes. Seven foreign Pathwalkers and many times that number in Warriors invading our village. In disarray, we fought back fiercely, besieged by blades of water and of ice, by objects that flew from unexpected directions and the earth that moved beneath our feet.

  We defended the huts and those within. Our Warriors were easily the match of the enemy Warriors, their armour protecting them from so many blows that the invaders were not expecting to be turned. The four of our Honoured Pathwalkers present fought fiercely too. Honoured Weaver turned the roots at their feet against them, Honoured Fire-whisperer blew great gouts of flame towards any who dared to approach her hut, Honoured Enchanter threw things at them which exploded on contact, and Honoured Smith wielded a large, red-hot metal hammer with the power of any Warrior. With every swing, its head sizzled flesh and crushed bone.

  But then they turned our shelters against us. One of the invading Pathwalkers had control over plants – as she moved under guard, she destroyed the huts, killing hatchlings and forcing out all those sheltering within. Honoured Weaver did not seem able to combat roots under the ground.

  Our Honoured Pathwalkers were left without shelter and were quickly surrounded by Warriors. We did our best to break them free of the encirclement but we could only wrest three of them free.

  I was struck by a blow which ripped my stomach apart, their spear piercing my extra skin layer as if it wasn’t there. One of my companions pushed me off to the side, out of risk of being trampled by the ongoing battle. Perhaps he knew that I had traded for a healing potion from Honoured Herbalist and wished to give me the opportunity to use it. His mental feel is bitter. It was not enough to allow me to join the battle again, though my vantage point was excellent – for a while.

  I watched as a large group of our Warriors surrounded Honoured Enchanter and Smith and retreated with them. Honoured Fire-whisperer and Weaver, however, were too surrounded by the enemies. As they saw that the other Pathwalkers were pulling out of their grip the enemy Warriors fought even more fiercely than before. I saw as their defenders fell one by one.

  Honoured Weaver was the first to fall. The Unevolved is full of grief. The focus of three of the enemy Pathwalkers as well as a large number of Warriors, she was overwhelmed. I heard her cry out, and then saw her body being dragged away.

  Honoured Fire-whisperer was next. Her flames countered by ice and water, they ran out far too soon. But she didn’t give up. Here, his tones shift to clear admiration despite his grief. I feel the knot in my throat swell even bigger. I couldn’t speak now even if I wanted to.

  Even though it was clear she could no longer fight with magic, she refused to go down without taking more of them with her. Using her bladed staff, she attacked the Warriors with all her might. She fought more fiercely than any of us and took down several Warriors before she fell. He lowers his head, shame coming across the Bond. But it was for naught. Though invasions usually aim to capture Pathwalkers, or leave them alone if seeking only destruction, they killed Honoured Fire-whisperer. Perhaps it was by accident; perhaps they feared her power too much.

  Her dying scream was the signal for those remaining to retreat after our living Honoured Pathwalkers. The village was lost. I watched as my brothers disappeared towards the mountainside gate. Perhaps they thought I was dead; perhaps they couldn’t spare the time to take me with them. His voice is mournful. I do not know what happened to them after that.

  As the attention turned towards the mountainside gate, I saw the broodmothers make a break for it, driving their charges ahead of them, vanishing into the forest. I feel a hint of relief at his words – at least some of the hatchlings survived the collapse of the huts. Stung-by-a-bug looks both fearful and full of grief. I don’t know any more than that, only pain and a seemingly endless age of waiting to die. I’m sorry, Honoured Pathwalker Tamer. We failed you.

  I rest my hand on his shoulder.

  “Frankly, I think you did far more than anyone expected,” I tell him bluntly even as grief about the loss of Flicks and Joy rips at my insides and makes my eyes prickle with tears. “From the sounds of it, everyone here was a hero, who put the safety of the Pathwalkers above their own, and succeeded in delaying the attackers so much that Happy and Hunter got away and so did as many hatchlings as possible. And looking at this battlefield, I see far more Warriors dead than anyone would expect considering how so few Warriors were here to defend all of you.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Probably-Stung-by-a-bug looks up at me with gratitude coming through our link.

  I thank you, Honoured Pathwalker. I only wish we could have done more.

  I’m prevented from answering when River and Healer both shout aloud, indicating that they’ve each found someone else still alive. I pat the prone samuran on the shoulder again.

  “Rest. Recover your strength. And then when we’ve made sure that any still living here stay living, we’ll go and make sure that these invaders realise how stupid they were to mess with us.” The expression that he gives me is very much a crocodile grin, sharp teeth gleaming in the daylight.

  We spend the next hour doing as much triage as possible. Finding survivors spread across the battlefield, samurans holding onto life by the barest thread. But the barest thread is all I need to pull them back from the edge. I’m no necromancer – I can’t bring people back from the dead. But I can heal them from almost-dead.

  In the meantime, I send out scouts to work out exactly where the Pathwalkers and Warriors went, followed by the invaders. Sirocco, of course, and Ptera who is grumpy at being disturbed during the daytime, but isn’t given much choice about the matter. I also send Catch and Poison – they’re both scout-types and fast when they want to be. Plus, Poison in particular is experienced and knowledgeable – he should be able to identify who the Pathwalkers are exactly and therefore what they’re capable of doing.

  While searching for those still alive, we carefully move the bodies to the central area – three of the samurans who were still alive were underneath those who were dead. When we move yet another pile of dead Warriors – invaders – a cry rings out into the air. It’s only when I feel my throat tearing that I realise it came from me.

  Her fur so bloody that its original colours are almost impossible to determine, Honey lies still. The Warriors around her show that her passing was not made easy for those seeking her death – I always knew she was a fighter, and this proves it – five Warriors fell before she did.

  It’s with shaking hands that I reach down to pick her up. I’ve been doing my best to hold things together, to be the strong pillar that my companions can cling to as they see their village devastated, their brothers and sisters murdered. Yet this, the death of one of my Companions, someone who trusted me so much that she transitioned to a Companion Bond…. It’s too much.

  Another cry of devastation tears itself from my throat as I clutch at Honey, my tears flowing easily down my cheeks.

  And then, I feel a heartbeat.

  At first, I think that it’s my imagination, but then I feel it again. Could it be…?

  I push my healing magic into the body held between my hands, feeling Honey’s body soak it up like a sponge. She’s alive!

  Knocking back a mana potion, I don’t hesitate to pour what I need to into Honey to heal the wounds that should have killed her. Would have killed her if she hadn’t been such a fighter that she refused to give into death’s clutches until the last drop of blood stopped circulating in her body.

  And just like her, I won’t give up until she’s whole.

  It takes my mana pool and then more despite all the advantages – our Bond, my familiarity with her body, the fact that I helped her heal her Energy channels – but when I see her push herself to her feet whole once more, it’s all worth it.

  “You’re alive,” I breathe, only daring to say it when she’s standing before me, the light of life in her eyes replacing the glassiness of death. She steps forwards and touches her nose to mine, exchanging breaths with me. I don’t even care that her breath stinks of rotten meat.

  I won’t die that easily, she tells me, the rare words from her like music to my mental ears.

  I embrace her, relief tearing into me almost as savagely as my grief had before. And there I stay until I’m summoned to the side of another almost-dead villager.

  Sirocco comes back as I’m finishing up with the fifth and last samuran – the others have all sadly been identified as dead, their corpses moved to the destroyed central area between the ruins of the huts. I’m pleased by the amount of care everyone has given to all the bodies of our own, including those of the Unevolved. Even Windy, her face and spikes an emotionless mask that only covers the tumultuous emotion within. I sense that she’s on the edge of her control. I hope she can calm down before we go into battle or she’ll be more of a liability than an asset.

  Everyone is angry, though. I am too, my fury matching my grief. To see the ruins of everything we’ve built, the torn bodies of those we’ve nurtured…it’s heartbreaking.

  Toys, scattered all over and so covered in detritus that they will have to be burned or buried with the bodies.

  Huts so ripped apart by roots that they will have to be completely rebuilt.

  Joy’s tapestries, woven with creative inspiration, ripped and dipped in the blood of those they were meant to amaze. We never found her body, but several of the survivors report seeing her limp form taken away by the invaders. There’s actually some hope in that – she may have been captured rather than killed.

  And worse, the confirmed deaths of seventeen hatchlings, fifty-three Unevolved, twelve Warriors, and one Pathwalker of our village whose corpses lie broken on the floor. It would have been fifty-seven Unevolved and thirteen Warriors if we had taken any longer to get here. They sold their lives dearly – twenty-nine enemy Warriors are dead, their bodies carelessly tossed together into a single pile. I’m determined not to lose any more and sense the same resolve among my people.

  “What did you find out?” I ask Sirocco, standing up from my patient.

  Instead of answering with words, she sends me a series of images. My mouth sets into a grim line as I review them.

  “Everyone strong enough to fight, come with me. We need to get moving.”

  here!

  here!

  here