Healer wakes with the dawn as she always does. That’s where familiarity stops, however. Her eyes have always been good, and looking for the herbs she needs to create healing poultices, potions, and compresses has only sharpened them. Therefore, despite the dim light in the hut, she can clearly see that it’s not the private hut in her birth village that she’s called her own ever since she Evolved. It’s not even the temporary huts she’s had to endure for the last few cycles, travelling at the side of her tribe sisters with only one sister from her village present, though the fact that it’s shared accommodations is the same.

  No, this is a newly-raised hut in a village which they did their best to tear to pieces only a cycle ago. And the feeling of some sort of connection inside her, binding her to someone else is just more proof that it was not just a dream – or nightmare. Healer shudders and forces her thoughts away from the sensation of being a beast on a leash – if she thinks too much on it, perhaps she’ll alert the one who holds her…Bond. She shivers again at the thought.

  Now completely awake, there’s no possibility of going back to sleep, as she sometimes does when she has no patients she has to check on. Hesitating for a moment, she wonders whether she will be permitted to leave the hut.

  It is hard to know. If she had been taken by a raiding party, she would expect to be confined to the hut until she had proven that she had accepted the loss of her village and status, and that she would work for her new village, receiving a small measure of status in return. But she wasn’t taken by a raiding party – she was part of a raiding party attempting to do just that to the very village which has captured her.

  But with the…Bond, which she dares not even think too deeply on, buried deeply under her breastbone, she senses that the period of allowing a taken Pathwalker to come to terms with her new existence will not be necessary. Escape will not be permitted; refusing to work will not be permitted either. No guards or mana inhibition potions are necessary, not when another’s orders hold complete dominion over her. That she still has a mana-inhibitor affecting her is an unnecessary insult – and uncomfortable besides.

  That the mana-inhibitors are unnecessary is not a guess – several of her sisters tried to escape after the great egg had disappeared below the horizon. Even without access to mana, they were determined not to spend any longer in this village than they needed to. They’d planned on tunneling through to where they knew the Warriors were and then getting the Warriors to help them leave, willing to behave like Unevolved just to get away. It would have been the perfect plan. If they had been able to accomplish it.

  Unfortunately, as soon as they reached out to dig into the earth with the intention of escape, their limbs failed to move. Testing proved that they could do anything – as long as it was not an attempt to escape or to hurt anyone. That included themselves. In the end, they’d all tried it. And they’d all had the same results.

  The worst part was that they could dig if the only intention was to expand their hut, the cramped conditions uncomfortable for the six of them to withstand. But the moment that digging turned towards the Warrior’s hut or towards the forest line, their claws lost all capability. They could not fool themselves, and apparently, nor could they fool the Bond. Perhaps some of the Warriors who are not Bound could be convinced to aid them….

  In the end, Healer decides to leave the hut; she wants to see the dawn. She has no intentions of escaping – their experiments have proven that to be fruitless. And with that possibility taken from them, there should be no reason why they should be confined to this hut.

  Despite her certainty, it still takes a long moment for her mind to be ready to take on the other village. She still remembers the looks that she received the previous cycle. Looks that no Unevolved should ever direct at a Pathwalker. Accusation, anger…disappointment. How dare they judge a Pathwalker? One who has Evolved past their petty limitations?!

  And yet, there’s something inside Healer which regrets being part of Flying-blade’s party. That’s…ashamed of her part in the death and destruction, even if it was limited to healing those in her own party – and ignoring those of the other village who were dying.

  Pushing herself through the opening, Healer looks up at the sky, seeing the rays of the great egg light up the deep blue above her head. The egg laid every cycle by the combined might of their ancestors to light the world for their descendants. And eaten every night by the creature who lives beyond the furthest mountain.

  It’s a reminder that all of the People are lit by the same glowing egg, laid by the same combined strength of the ancestors. Tribes mean little to the ancestors who have come to an understanding of the People as a whole. Or so a Pathwalker from Healer’s village had said when she was just a hatchling. She died many great cycles ago, before Healer made it to Evolved, even. Healer wonders what she would say to this – knowing that some of her sisters had attacked another tribe’s village for no other reason than fear that they would become too large and dangerous.

  Oh, Healer knows what Flying-blade was saying, but she didn’t believe it at the time – still doesn’t. Nor does she think that her leader, Tree-whisperer, believed it either. The idea of this new Pathwalker, odd as she is, being a threat the level of the long-ago Enlightened samuran? Ridiculous! The Pathwalker isn’t even Enlightened – though it is a little hard to tell considering she doesn’t have any scales or visible markings, especially not with the way she covers herself with the hides of other creatures.

  Still, Healer doesn’t feel any sense of her soul being consumed and as a healer, she likes to think that she would know. And Tamer clearly has limits on her power as otherwise she would have Bound all of the Warriors, and not just a few.

  Healer’s fear about the danger that this village poses to their way of life, however, has only increased since she was persuaded by Tree-whisperer to join Flying-blade’s party. Now she understands why her leader was willing to sponsor Flying-blade’s attempt, if only covertly. If anything, she thinks her leader is underestimating the threat that this village poses.

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  Walking through the huts in the first light of the morning only underscores her initial impressions. Textiles made for no other reason than to beautify the surroundings – an utter waste of resources which could be used elsewhere. Hatchlings still piled together and sleeping rather than out and learning the ways of the forest as their numbers are winnowed down so that only the strongest survive. Sad as it is, Healer has come to accept that as a necessary part of life – only the strongest will make good Warriors or Pathwalkers. The rest are mere wastes of resources to keep them alive despite their pitiful contributions to the group.

  And as for those who are awake, the Unevolved seem to be going out in groups. Where is the search for individual strength? The trial by combat which determines who has the physical and mental strength to Evolve and improve the potential of their village? Not only that, but they seem to be adorned with hides tied around their chests and hips. And they’re carrying weapons which bear heads made of the same material that the knives and spears gifted to their village at the recent Festival have. It’s a material which holds an edge better than their best Shaped spears, which bends but doesn’t break, and which cuts through hide and flesh better than everything else. Weapons which only the best of the Warriors in Healer’s village are gifted as proof of their strength, are being carried by the lowliest of beings here.

  Not to mention that Healer was forced yesterday to tend to prey-beasts who seem to be given space to roam and food to eat near the village, protected from their own predators. It is a complete overhaul of the whole natural order of things and Healer is fearful about what it means both for this village and for the People as a whole if it spreads.

  “Healer. What are you doing here?” The grunts ringing out from behind Healer make her spin around, her claws digging into the earth and her tail flaring out behind her to help her stay balanced.

  “Herbalist,” Healer greets neutrally, doing her best to stop her spikes from showing any hint of her tumultuous emotions. She knows this Pathwalker, has exchanged recipes with her, discussed treatments and patients every Festival for the last seven great cycles.

  And yet, she would have aided Flying-blade in capturing Herbalist and forcing her to submit to becoming part of another village, another tribe. And, in failing, she herself has been forced to face that same fate. Herbalist did not hesitate to use the mana inhibiting potion against her and her sisters, and has not reached out to help Healer in any way. Not to escape, not to come to terms with her own reality, not even to express any sort of sympathy.

  But then why should Healer expect any of that when she would have done exactly the same thing if their situation had gone as they’d expected?

  “I was just…looking at the dawn,” Healer confesses, feeling odd. Like her insides are sinking. She looks away from her peer – or the one who used to be her peer. Now, with the Bond under her breastbone obliging her to follow the orders of any in the village – Pathwalker or not, Evolved or even Unevolved – Herbalist is no longer her peer. She’s her superior.

  That sinking feeling inside her intensifies. It’s been a long time since she felt such a thing, perhaps not since she was an Unevolved, returning to the village empty-handed, knowing that she would not be permitted to eat that nightfall. Odd – she hasn’t thought of such things in a long time.

  “Come with me. Let’s collect some herbs. Some of my stocks are running low.” Healer looks back at Herbalist and catches a glare. Healer feel her spikes flush with shame – Herbalist’s stocks are probably low because Plant-shaper tore her hut apart with her spikes. Healer knows as well as any that being buried in damp earth can ruin far too many delicate herbs.

  “Is it a choice?” she can’t help asking, though, needling the one who once was her peer. “Or is it an order?”

  Herbalist just looks at her silently and Healer wonders if she’s misstepped. Then she answers, her tone indicating no hint of anger, merely thoughtfulness.

  “I would fight against this too, in your place.” Healer stills, not having expected to hear that.

  “You would?” she asks almost plaintively. Too many emotions have been tearing her apart in the last cycle. She finds herself almost desperate to find someone who understands. None of her sisters do – none of them were close to any of those in this village and so they feel anger and frustration without the clawing sense of guilt that Healer does. But the members of the People with healing gifts are a sisterhood of their own and it tears her apart to feel that she’s betrayed not just Herbalist but also the other Healer too – given that her other sister was also fighting with this odd Pathwalker, it’s clear that that part of the plan went awry as well. “Do you fight against your leader even now?” she asks, wondering if it’s that easy – perhaps the issue is this other Pathwalker; perhaps Flying-blade had a point, even if it wasn’t for the reasons she believed. Perhaps they can be rid of the Pathwalker and everything can go back to the way it was?

  “I do not.” Herbalist's words kill the hope that had kindled inside Healer’s breast. The sudden surge of disappointment drives her to whine like a hatchling.

  “But why not?”

  Herbalist eyes her with a gaze that Healer recognises. It’s the same as when Herbalist eyes a new Pathwalker who has failed to complete a basic potion that she’s just demonstrated. It’s disappointment, but also understanding that failure at first does not mean success is impossible.

  “When Markus took over, we were down to five Pathwalkers and sixteen Warriors.” Healer breathes in sharply, her eyes widening with surprise. That’s…low.

  “I thought you had seven Pathwalkers and at least twenty Warriors just at the last Festival!” she exclaims.

  “Thirty-six Warriors,” Herbalists corrects. “Including those left behind. When Markus arrived, we had no hatchlings either. Why? Because of the decisions our leader made and I, to my ongoing shame, went along with. Since Markus took over? We have more than doubled that number of Pathwalkers and we’ve regained the Warriors we had – and more. At least, we had before you came and killed a whole group,” Herbalist continues bitterly. Healer looks away. “I saw what Shaman was doing to my village, and I decided to try something different. I didn’t agree with everything Markus did; I still don’t. But he has transformed our village, and overall, it’s for the better.” She hesitates for a moment, her eyes roving over Healer as if looking for something. “I suspect you’ll be going back to your leader sooner or later. But right now you have an opportunity. Look at what’s happened here, at what we’ve accomplished with open eyes and mind. And when you go back to your village, look at that too with new eyes. You might discover the same thing I did.”

  “What’s that?” Healer dares to ask. Herbalist just flashes her spikes in a way that indicates that she’s not going to say any more.

  “Come. Let us find a group of hunters who will protect us as we venture into the forest.”

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