I’m unsurprised when no one chooses to stay, even my newly healed patients electing to join us. I don’t argue – they might not be fully healed, but I can keep feeding magic into them as we travel as long as they stay close by. Honey, of course, is keen on joining the fight, her usual eagerness enhanced by her close call with death. Curiously enough, since healing her, more jagged honey-coloured lines have appeared in her fur, almost like scars. Or perhaps they’re badges of achievement in her eyes.

  Certainly her Flurry ability had a good effect on her enemies – attacks with her claws and teeth ripped open their legs and then their throats when they fell to the earth in pain. Still being quite low to the ground, despite Honey’s increase in size during Evolution, the samurans may not have even realised she was there until they were being attacked.

  The number of different people in our party, some of them not entirely healed, does mean that we’re a little slow-going. I keep my new Bonds with the Unevolved survivors so I can keep feeding them healing magic, but I’ll have to cut those sooner rather than later – unless we kill all of the invaders, I’ll need to Bind them. Since I have limited Dominate capacity, the three survivors who I was forced to Dominate because they weren’t conscious enough to consent to a Tame Bond are currently taking up slots on my soul which I might not be able to afford later. But that assumes that I leave any of the invading force alive, which I’m feeling less and less inclined to do the more destruction I see around me.

  We don’t even need Sirocco’s guidance to follow the trail of the invaders – they’ve left enough traces of their presence that even a blind man could see them. My people evidently retreated to the den as Sirocco confirms that the trail leads straight to the vine-strangler grove. I’m glad they made that decision – it's our most defensible area. They couldn’t have known that the invading samurans would be so spitefully destructive to everything enroute.

  Our enemies, clearly not satisfied with simply killing my people, must have decided to destroy as much of our livelihood as they could. Though they don’t seem to have spent much time on it, I see dead farm animals everywhere, killed while they fled. Holes in their bellies or heads, sometimes still occupied by a spike of rock prove what killed them.

  The fields of growing plants have been ruined too, what looks like a tidal wave followed by an earthquake having crashed through them. The fences are falling apart, few pieces still fully intact. Even the little huts my people had created close to the farm animals and fields for those in charge of their care have been ripped apart by the same roots that the huts in the village were.

  Even as my heart aches and my fury mounts at the wanton, malicious destruction that I see before me, another part of me is taking a careful note of the abilities I see being used. Earth-Shaping, Water-Shaping, Plant-Shaping, and Flying-blade’s telekinesis are definites. From the reports of the survivors, Ice-Shaping seems to be in evidence too. Well, they might have been able to quench Flicks’ flames, but I wonder what they’ll think of mine.

  I moan like a wounded animal when a hulking lump of flesh comes into view. Trinity’s bloodied and ripped body lies to one side of the path. The platform on her back is cracked and damaged and her belly is ripped open, her entrails spread around her. But her bloody and damaged horns, and the dead body at her hooves, tell the tale of just how hard she fought the invaders into the territory she had claimed as her own.

  I can’t help but hope – Honey had looked almost as bad, but she’d survived. Running forwards, I lay my hands on Trinity’s side, forcing in healing magic. But it’s useless, I know that immediately. My Flesh-Shaping is happy to saturate the flesh, willing to reform and change it regardless of the state of life of the being it belonged to. But a spark is missing. I cannot bring back the dead, and Trinity has been gone for hours.

  My tears drip from my cheeks as I lower my head, sorrow ripping through me at losing the happy-go-lucky beast who had become beloved of so many of the village. When not transporting Pathwalkers to and from the den, she had become a favourite playmate of the hatchlings, rarely to be seen in the village without at least five of them hanging off her at all times. She hadn’t achieved Evolution – I wonder now whether she might have survived if she had. Her horns show that she fought for her life with the same ferocity I’ve seen in many battles.

  Regret spools through me, tying its chains around my heart. If only I’d got here sooner…if only I hadn’t gone away at all.

  Despite our hurry, we take a moment to pay our respects to the beast who had embraced her role as conveyance with enthusiasm which never waned, no matter how many times she trod the path between the village and the den. Friend to hatchlings and any who treated her kindly. Our battle-sister. River mirrors my own anguish as she gently touches the bloodied and broken central horn on Trinity’s skull.

  Rest well with the ancestors, brave one, she says to the downed beast gently. We will avenge you.

  We continue moving, seeing scavengers already starting to collect at the furthest carcasses, those closest to the forest’s edge. Scavenger birds are circling in the air and have landed in several places, tearing at the bodies. I yearn to chase them all away but I don’t want to spare the time or mana – I have far better uses for both of those precious resources: saving the living and avenging the dead.

  After all the death I’ve seen so far, encountering Artemis’ bloodied body with her pack ripped apart around her just sends another subdued pang through me, like I’ve been stabbed in a place already numbed to its impact.

  This time, it’s me who crouches by Artemis’ head, resting my hand on her skull, prepared to say goodbye. How could she be alive with the wounds she’s sustained? Her packmates are clearly already departed from this world, their eyes glassy, their chests completely still.

  I almost can’t believe it when I feel the faintest flicker of life. My eyes go wide and I stare at her more intently, seeing the almost infinitesimal movement of her chest.

  Diving straight into her body with my flesh-magic, I grab onto that sense of life, feeling the faintest pulses of her heart as well as the almost-unnoticeable movement of her lungs.

  While stimulating those further, I open my eyes to practically glare at the healer we brought with us.

  “Help her!” I order firmly. Healer hurries to obey and River brings her own concoctions to help too, her hope joining mine as we fight for Artemis’ life.

  I know that our enemies are already through the vine-stranglers, crouched around the entrance to my den like the hungry fox waiting for the rabbit to emerge. But I trust in the defences of my den to hold them back for at least a time. Artemis doesn’t have that time and I’m damned if I let the invaders have a single more life than they’ve already forcibly taken.

  The combination of three of us working on her gets Artemis on her feet more quickly than we managed with anyone else, despite her huge number of critical injuries – right now I’m not sure who has the greatest desire to live between her and Honey. We don’t dare take the time to fully heal her, though, just patching her up enough that she can keep up with us. Her life is worth the time to save, but we can’t afford to spare more of it than absolutely necessary.

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  She noses at her packmates with a plaintive whine, but she’s smart enough to know that they are beyond saving and quickly moves to join us. While I feel her desire to watch over her packmates’ bodies and keep the scavengers away from them, she is smart enough to know that, alone, she isn’t yet strong enough to defend them and will end up being prey herself if she stays.

  As we run as fast as we can with the injured in our group, I take the time to look through Sirocco’s eyes to find out what lies ahead of us.

  The party of seven Pathwalkers and about twenty-five Warriors have cut a path through the vine-stranglers straight to the den. The forest is not at all happy with their actions and has shifted closer to the party, doing its best to strike at them from behind. As I watch through Sirocco’s eyes, the party grows tired of having to watch their backs and evidently decides to destroy the trees before concentrating again on their targets hidden underground.

  Blades of water spiral out, slicing away spearing roots and cutting their way through to the trunks of the trees themselves. They’re aided by fist-sized rocks that whirl through the air and strike at the trees. At the same time, the earth shifts beneath the trees, trying to knock them over even as ice crackles around the roots themselves.

  But these are not normal trees – attacks which would have quickly cut back any other forest have limited effect here. The vine-stranglers are clearly not nearly as weak against water as they are against fire and their bark resists the striking water blades. It does less well against rocks, bark flying in all directions at each impact, but most of the trees stabilise themselves quite well against the shifting earth, their roots shifting and replacing themselves.

  The ice is what causes the most problems here, though – it freezes the ground which roots were about to pull out of and withers vulnerable roots in the air. The trail of toppled trees that mark the path they took through the forest speaks to the inevitability of the trees’ ultimate failure. But every minute that the trees’ attempts gain us is a victory of its own. While they’re focussing on the trees, they’re not digging my people out of their underground burrow with their Earth-Shaping or flooding them out with their Water-Shaping.

  In my physical body, we’re still a little distance away from the vine-stranglers, far enough that I am still unable to reach out mentally to contact those of my Bound in the den. But that doesn’t mean I’m unable to get even more information than Sirocco can already offer me.

  Catch and Poison slide out of stealth right to me, making several of my companions jump and curse – or growl in Bastet’s case. Lathani doesn’t appear surprised, though – perhaps she’d detected their approach. I’d already known they were there, even their stealth skills not allowing them able to escape my gaze thanks to the Bonds I hold with them.

  So? I prompt them mentally even as we continue running forwards. I pull back mentally from Sirocco, needing to use my focus for this conversation.

  It’s Flying-blade for sure, Poison confirms. She’s got four of her own sisters with her – Water-shaper, Earth-shaper, Plant-shaper, and Ice-shaper. As expected. She’s also got two Pathwalkers from another village, he continues, the flickering of dark purple through his spikes an indication of his seriousness. Water-former and Healer – I recognise them as being from the lead village of the red tribe. Healer has Weaver tied up next to her.

  She’s alive then? I ask him, biting my lip.

  She is, Poison answers and I sense the relief easing a weight on my Pathwalkers’ shoulders. Mine too. But since she’s not fighting back, I have to guess that she’s either unconscious or that her mana has been inhibited.

  At least she’s alive, I tell him. Then the rest of what he said registers. This is an official inter-tribal conflict then? I ask him seriously.

  Thanks to the weeks spent travelling with a group of Evolved samurans, I’ve been able to get a much better picture of how inter-village conflicts tend to work. Their aims, the way they proceed, and their consequences. Starting an inter-Tribe conflict is honestly more serious than I was expecting this to be – I wouldn’t have thought that either Flying-blade or the leader of the red tribe would want to risk the whole of the green tribe attacking them in retribution.

  But then, perhaps they were counting on there not being anyone who could testify against them – if they killed or captured all the Pathwalkers and Warriors, they would be unable to testify to the presence of Pathwalkers from two villages, one being the lead village of the red Tribe. And, unsurprisingly, none of the Unevolved would be permitted to testify even if they tried.

  Not necessarily, Windy breaks in, her mental voice as stormy as I sense the magic building around her is. They might argue that Water-former and Healer were here of their own accord – not you, idiot, she snaps at the healer near us as the Pathwalker looks like she’s about to speak. I briefly reflect on the fact that the samuran naming system for Pathwalkers can be a little confusing at times before Healer – the one from the small village – starts speaking with a wounded tone to her mental voice.

  I didn’t think you were speaking of me. I merely wanted to say that I know Healer – the other one – of old. She is not one to take part in village raids unless instructed. Water-former is another matter, of course.

  That doesn’t mean Healer wouldn’t do it, or that she wouldn’t say she came of her own accord, I point out cynically.

  Healer looks a little affronted.

  We are the People! No self-respecting Pathwalker would lie about such things.

  Like your people didn’t lie about a Tier three? I question pointedly. Her spikes blush pink.

  That…that was different. We didn’t lie.

  No, I chuckle humorlessly. Merely played hard and fast with the truth. And why wouldn’t Healer – the one with Flying-blade – do anything differently? Anyway, this is irrelevant – we’re not letting any of them escape. Not considering what they most likely plan to do to my people.

  After a little more discussion over the known strengths and weaknesses of the identified Pathwalkers, I tune back into Sirocco’s eyesight, the bird circling the clearing in the centre of the vine-stranglers. Ptera is circling around with her, present in case I need air support.

  The Pathwalkers and Warriors have beaten back the vine-stranglers sufficiently that they no longer have to worry about attacks from behind. They now surround the entrance to the den, clearly having a conversation. Some of the Warriors look rather worse for wear, sporting burns, cuts, and in two cases significant injuries which Healer is looking at. They look rather disgruntled and not too keen to once more brave the tunnel depths. I feel satisfaction at the thought that they might have got caught by some of the traps I left behind. My paranoia seems to be paying off right now.

  There’s no sign of my own people which I approve of – why leave a defensible area for no reason? I am a little surprised not to see any damage to the tunnel itself considering that one of the Pathwalkers is an Earth-Shaper. I would have thought that that was a perfect strategy – if the tunnel is trapped, make another one. But perhaps that’s what they’re going to try next.

  In my physical body, we’re quickly approaching the edge of the vine-strangler grove, the reduced distance between me and my Bound currently in the den allowing us to communicate in more than the most obvious of emotions.

  We’re back, I tell them, projecting my words to everyone in the den.

  here!

  here!

  here