CHAPTER 8

With long, slender arms the length of his body, Zlezelrenn did not have to bend over to adjust the bottom of his leggings. Prehensile cilia coiled around the rear straps and tugged them tight. While the leggings that covered his lower limbs were striped and swiped in the traditional patterns of his clan, the fabric of which they had been fashioned was wholly artificial. In fact, the material had not even been woven on Silvoun. The colorful synthetic textile had been imported from some far-off world in the sky whose name Zlezelrenn did not know. Its alien origin did not matter to him. While Elders among his sociel decried the loss of ancient crafts, the younger Zlezelrenn and his contemporaries delighted in the many choices introduced fabric had made available. They lasted longer than his ancestors’ attire, held their colors better, were cheap and easy to customize, and, unlike treated valask hide, were impervious to water rot. He still championed the weaving of valask-hide apparel by others, however. Traditional textiles were very popular with tourists.

He cradled his puronn lightly against his left arm, the grasping cilia lightly fondling the trigger at the far end. The five other members of the hunting party trailed behind him, their eyebands alert for telltale movement among the rocks and trees, the sensitive specialized hairs on their flat, disc-shaped skulls attuned to the slightest rise in feral flii. An intermittent breeze caused their inscribed transparent vests to flutter around them. The weapons they bore were a far cry from the primitive slingstones and jabsticks employed by their ancestors. Like his leggings, their weapons were also imported.

Life on Silvoun had changed in significant ways ever since it had agreed to join the vast multispecies galactic authority that called itself the Commonwealth. His kind had adapted more easily and successfully than many others to that all-embracing, system-spanning authority. Even on their homeworld, the Tlel were not numerous, and they were by nature nonconfrontational. They represented no threat to the largely benign control exerted by the Commonwealth’s two dominant species, the hairless mammalian humans and their partners the insectoid thranx. The Tlel did not even particularly mind that when discussed elsewhere, their homeworld of Silvoun was usually referred to as Gestalt, a name bestowed on it by its well-meaning but initially uninformed human discoverers.

Silvoun, Gestalt, Zlezelrenn—names were unimportant. What mattered in life was boon companions, a sated digestive system, entertaining art and inspiring music, spiritual fulfillment, intellectual discourse, respect for one’s Elders (if not for their clothing) and for tradition. That was why he and five other members of his sociel were out hunting in weather that, judging by a glance at the sky, was threatening to turn bad. They did not need to hunt. No Tlel needed to hunt for food any longer. The galactic economy that had arrived with the Commonwealth had flooded Silvoun/Gestalt with a steady and sometimes bewildering variety of manufactured goods, foodstuffs included. The larder in his own dwelling was well stocked with processed provisions, including introduced exotics that had been tested and approved as safe for consumption by his kind. These would be prepared to order by machines designed to accomplish in minutes what had taken his primitive ancestors entire days to render edible. Like many (though not all) of his friends and relations, Zlezelrenn did not mourn for the Old Days. The “Old Days” might epitomize greater adherence to tradition and family life. They also meant disease, starvation, and war.

Hunting, however, was another matter. So ingrained was it in Tlelian life, so much a part of his people’s customs, that someone who did not participate in the time-honored endeavor was not considered to be wholly Tlel. No native would have seen any contradiction in the traditional Tlel respect for life and the need to hunt it to sustain tradition. Live and let live was the Tlelian way—except when it was time to kill.

Personally, Zlezelrenn enjoyed the activity. It was bracing to be outdoors, tracking the forest’s abundant wildlife utilizing ancient techniques, killing something that you and your friends would then skin, butcher, and eventually consume. It was even better to do so using modern weapons. Some Elders complained that this diluted the respect that ought to be accorded the prey. Zlezelrenn and his friends would have argued that their own possible deaths by goring, trampling, or biting would have left them in positions to deny the prey any respect whatsoever.

They tracked, and camped, and traveled in the Old Way. But when it came to facing down a charging chasinx or kasollt, it was unarguably better to be holding a puronn instead of a slingstone.

A cold gust caused his vision to momentarily darken as it brushed his eyeband. Though his vest was tight around his tapering torso and he had not shaved in a cycle, he found himself wishing he had let his fur grow even longer. It was, after all, the season for it. Then there was the matter of his most recent full-body dye job. Streaking, he decided, did not become him quite as much as the fast-talking village stylist had insisted it would. He vowed that next time he would abjure all bright colors in favor of his usual taupe.

Though he picked up the movement almost as soon as he perceived the first hint of flii, he recognized neither. Visually, the creature seemed more dream than reality. Its flii pattern was as erratic as it was alien to his experience. Finding himself awash in uncertainty, his instinctive reaction was to raise the puronn. Behind him, the unsettled murmuring of his companions indicated that they, too, had detected the airborne anomaly.

Almost as if it was reading their intentions, the strange flying creature that had surprised the hunting party promptly ducked behind the central bulge of a trio of large, linked, cerulean huluds, worming its way into their festering hoop of cauliflorous blossoms.

Zlezelrenn’s companions gathered around him. In a prelude to shooting, energetic discussion ensued. This was accompanied by much waving of long arms, fluttering of cilia and chin appendages, and contentious phraseology.

“I have never seenseen anything like it,” declared an astonished Hluriamm as she checked her gun to make sure it would be ready to fire on a moment’s notice.

Vlashraa extended an arm in the direction of her fellow sociel’s weapon. “Nono, we cannot shoot! It is clearly a spirit creature and must therefur not be harmed.”

Half raising her puronn, Hluriamm stepped forward and took aim at the cluster of bright flowers where the creature had taken refuge. “If it is a spirit creature, then ur simple weapons will not be able tu harm it. If it is not a visitor frum ur ancestors’ hypothesized spirit world, then it is fair game—whatever it is or wherever it comes frum.” She raised the puronn the rest of the way. “Easy enough tu find out.”

Elder among them, Klerjamboo placed a slim forearm on the barrel of the female’s weapon, applying just enough weight to ruin her aim. “Tuu easy by half, tu slay that which we du not understand.”

“Then yu agree with me,” Vlashraa said earnestly, “that we should not attempt tu kill it.”

“No, I did not saysay that.” Ever courteous, Klerjamboo was quick to correct the younger female. “I implied that we should try tu understand it.” He gestured with his own somewhat smaller and lighter weapon. “Then we can kill it.”

While the discussion around him grew more animated, a curious Zlezelrenn continued to focus on the place where the unfamiliar apparition had disappeared. As long as it remained concealed within the dense cluster of hulud blossoms, he could not see it. But its strange flii was as clear and discernible to him as if the creature were wrapped around his neck.

Could it wrap around his neck? Might it possess other, even more threatening capabilities? Visibly alien, its potential remained as mysterious as its origins. Which led to the most interesting and equally obvious question of all.

What was it doing here, in an isolated river valley of the Anuvu Range? Was it possible it had been lost by its owners and had subsequently flown here all the way from Tlossene, the only nearby place where one could reasonably expect to encounter exotic offworld creatures? If so, why it had chosen to travel all the way to these northern mountains and this valley? Many places much closer to Tlossene would offer more hospitable surroundings to an abandoned offworld animal. Such questions only added up to more questions, none of which would be answered if they simply shot the thing.

As she sensed a surge in its flii, Vlashraa began gesturing excitedly. “It’s coming out—there it is again!”

Hesitantly, the creature had emerged from the cover of the huluds and was flying toward them. Its wings beat in a fashion Zlezelrenn had never seen before, so fast that they were little more than a gaudy blur. Everyone was looking to Elder Klerjamboo for a hint on how they should proceed. Holding his fire, the Elder scrutinized the slender flier as it halted to hover before them, seeming to sit on the wind. After a moment it turned and zoomed back toward the cluster of trees from which it had just emerged. Reaching these, it pivoted in midair and came back. It repeated this maneuver several times.

“It wants us tu follow it,” Zlezelrenn heard himself saying. He wiped cold moisture from his eyeband. It was beginning to snow. They had to make a decision.

Nlowwnee spoke up, his speech as clunky as his aim. “It is said that those whu follow spirit creatures may follow them tu their deathdeath.”

Zlezelrenn could barely hide his disdain. “What are yu, some kind of primitive? This is the six thousand and twelve cycle uv the Raised Aborning. The Tlel are become a modern folk, members of galactic civilization. There are no such things as spirit creatures.”

As an angry Nlowwnee started forward, Klerjamboo stepped between them. The specialized hair-like receptors on his head parted, half focusing on the intemperate speaker, the other half on the heftier hunter who was ready to make a bracelet of Zlezelrenn’s eyeband.

“The observation is unnecessary,” the Elder declared. Eyeband bright, Nlowwnee continued to glare at Zlezelrenn. “Spirit creatures emit no flii,” Klerjamboo continued. “This one does, therefur it cannot be a visitor frum ur ancestors’ spirit world. It is a normal being made uv meat and fluid, albeit one notnot frum Silvoun.”

Though clearly disappointed at the Elder’s analysis, Vlashraa was forced to agree with his logic. “It seems extraordinary tu encounter it here.”

“I was thinking the same.” Slipping his puronn into the long, narrow holster strapped across his back, Zlezelrenn focused on Klerjamboo. “Du we let it go—or du we follow?”

The Elder consulted the sky. There was little wind, which meant the approaching storm would be slow moving. It would be inconvenient to move about in such weather, but not especially dangerous.

“Not being an expert in offworld biology, Zlezelrenn, I cannot say fur certain which would ultimately prove tu be the wiser course. But I see no harm in doing so fur a little while. We might learn something. And,” he added as an aside to the stymied Hluriamm, “if it proves tu be expedient, we can always shoot it later.”

To Zlezelrenn, at least, the validity of this decision was soon confirmed. Though it could easily have done so, the alien visitant never flew out of view. It would wing its way ahead of them only to pause in midair or linger on a branch until they caught up again. Then it would resume its course.

“It seems tu know exactly where it is going,” Vlashraa pointed out.

Huffing to keep up behind her, Hluriamm was less sanguine. “You ascribe Tlelian motivation tu a creature about which we know nothing. I, fur one, have no intention uv following it interminably. What will yu say if it crosses the Balamm?”

“We will not cross the Balamm,” Klerjamboo assured her. “If the creature does so, we will turn back. Crossing the Balamm would put us in the territory of the Tl-racouuy.”

Not even Zlezelrenn would go that far to satisfy his curiosity about the outlandish visitor. Like a number of other gr-sociels, the Tl-racouuy were Revisionists who rejected many of the new ways. Conflict between such social groupings was not inevitable, but was best to avoid whenever possible. For himself, he could never be an associate of such a strictly conservative and conformist gr-sociel. Nlowwnee, now, would be a ready candidate except that he was a blood member of the same group as Zlezelrenn and the other members of the hunting party.

Such philosophical and social conflicts had always raged among the Tlel. Instead of bringing the adherents of different gr-sociels together, the advent of the Commonwealth and everything it had brought to Silvounian society had only added another layer to traditional Tlelian squabbling. Though exasperated by this unexpected development, Commonwealth officials were prevented from interfering by regulations governing interspecies contact and by the strictures of their United Church.

The hairs on his head were all inclined forward as Zlezelrenn tracked the airborne alien’s flii. The shock he experienced when they detected a second flash of otherworldly energy was profound. It was as strong a burst of flii as he had ever encountered. He had no idea what could generate such a flare-up. Superficially, it reminded him of the erratic flii of those few humans he had personally encountered. Only this was far more powerful.

Without warning, it faded almost to nothingness, then flared again. Though its origin was undeniably organic, it was as if it were being controlled by a switch, like a piece of electrical equipment. From the writhing of facial appendages and twisting of mouths among his companions, it was clear that they were suffering from identical perceptions.

“If this nu being I detect is not a spirit creature,” declared Vlashraa, “then it surely must be one whose spirit is tormented by them.”

“The second certainly seems tu be in distress.” Klerjamboo had lengthened his stride, his bound foot-pads leaving slushy imprints in the leisurely accumulating snow. His younger companions were hard-pressed to keep up with the Elder. “If that is the case, we must help it, even if it is an alien.”

“Better tu shoot both,” Hluriamm grumbled as she struggled to maintain the pace. No one commented aloud, but Klerjamboo threw her a look that had the effect of forestalling any further comments.

Zlezelrenn sensed the new alien emissions weakening. Having momentarily lost sight of the flying creature, he was afraid they had run past the source when Hluriamm halted sharply and pointed to her left.

“There!”

Though initially reluctant to do so, the beautiful flying thing finally rose and moved away from the body that was lying on the ground. Snow had not yet covered much of the human’s face. As Zlezelrenn and his companions gathered around the figure, the flying beast hovered nearby. While watching intently, it made no move to interfere.

Klerjamboo started to reach down for the offworlder’s arm. Hesitating, he looked around at the others. “Does anyone here know anything about the physiology uv humans?”

“I have dealt with some settlers.” Shifting his position slightly, Zlezelrenn regarded another of the hunters. “So has Vlashraa.”

“Only cursorily.” She was uncharacteristically reticent. There was nothing tentative in her physical response, however, when she reached down and ran the gripping cilia of her left hand over the human’s bulbous face, lightly making contact with its assortment of peculiar bulges and protuberances. “I du know that they are less tolerant uv cold than the Tlel. This one seems tu me tu be badly chilled.” She continued to study the angular, motionless form. “Unless attire deceives its shape, I believe it is a male.”

“And its flii is alternately feeble and overwhelming.” Klerjamboo looked upon the figure without fear. Tlel and human had lived together for a number of generations now. Mutual respect had long ago eliminated any apprehension.

“At least that denotes life.” Much like his character, Nlowwnee was direct and uncomplicated.

Vlashraa eyed the silently staring Hluriamm. “Do yu still want to shoot it?”

The larger female considered the recumbent body. “Let me think. I am trying tu decide if its skin is thick enough tu be mountable.” She was only being half facetious. The other half…

The human put an end to any such tawdry speculation by moaning and trying to roll over. The Tlel surrounding him held their ground, though Hluriamm and Nlowwnee flinched slightly.

“We must raise its body temperature.” Straightening, Vlashraa studied the surrounding vegetation. “As it is tuu heavy tu be carried in the traditional free manner, we must make a carry-sled.”

“A chance tu practice a traditional craft!” Klerjamboo was clearly delighted.

If the carry-sled was fashioned of traditional materials taken from the forest, however, the means used to put it together were decidedly updated. Instead of strip-stem stitching, the use of cutting and sealing tools made short work of binding together the necessary lengths of tree. When all was nearly finished, a somewhat chastened Hluriamm remarked on a deficiency that was immediately apparent.

“There is no cushion of material tu support the neck.”

Here Vlashraa’s knowledge of the offworlders came into play. “None is needed. See how much thicker and more muscular is the portion uv the body that supports the head? Unlike urs, it can lie out straight fur a long period uv time without snapping.”

“Without moving adequately, either, I would imagine.” Hluriamm, who could turn her flattened skull a full 180 degrees, could not envision how the creature could possibly see what was behind it without having to turn its whole body.

When they lifted the limp, remarkably flexible form onto the finished carry-sled, the flying creature darted close to monitor their actions. While its lesser flii remained more or less constant, that of the human continued to fluctuate like an erratic dynamo. Once, while they were pulling the sled behind them, the silent human emitted a burst that nearly caused them to drop their gangly burden.

The hairs on her head twitching, Hluriamm hastened to employ her cilia to massage and relax the sensitive organs. “Nevernever have I been around a human such as this! One would almost think it was hiding a small generator on its person.”

Zlezelrenn looked back at her from his position near the front of the slapped-together carry-sled. “Not this one. I’ve checked his clothing. It’s definitely emanating frum within.”

“Maybe he swallowed a generator.” It was with decidedly mixed feelings that Hluriamm continued to study their newly adopted responsibility as well as the flying creature that presently lay coiled on the rectangular chest. That portion of the human’s torso continued to slowly rise and fall, indicating that air was still circulating within. Though Hluriamm had no idea of the mechanics involved, she had been assured by Zlezelrenn that it proved the human was still breathing and was therefore still alive.

It was not that she wished to be ignorant of the species that now shared a small portion of Silvoun with her people. It was only that in her village, opportunities to interact with and learn more about the strange creatures were infrequent at best. One day, she promised herself, she would have to go to Tlossene.

Meanwhile, a wandering human had come into her community and that of her friends, and she would do her best to learn what she could from him. Especially if, as her more knowledgeable companions Zlezelrenn and Vlashraa were inclined to believe, this human appeared to be something out of the ordinary even for a member of his own kind.

 

Flinx awoke with a familiar weight on his chest. As soon as she saw her master conscious, and sensed no panic, Pip uncoiled, unfurled her wings, rose into the air, and flew over to settle down in the pool of intermittent sunlight that was pouring through the triangular window. The material of which the transparency was composed appeared to be normal spray glass: nothing exotic or alien.

He had no difficulty sitting up, since the bed rested at a thirty-degree angle. That was how the Tlel slept; if compelled to lie on a completely flat surface, their naturally low center of gravity would put too much pressure on their thin necks and, eventually, on their heads. There was even a pillow of sorts—a soft balloon-shape that had been placed not under his head but under his neck, Tlel-fashion. Whereas whoever had provided it had doubtless done so with the best of intentions, the result was that Flinx sat up with a neck that was more than a little stiff.

He swallowed hard, fighting back his digestive system’s initial adverse reaction to his surroundings. While the room in which he found himself was neat, orderly, and well-appointed, it stank like an unfumigated old fish locker. He needed no further sign that he was in a Tlel dwelling and not a human one. Straightening, he surveyed his surroundings. The functions of some of the devices and furniture he saw were self-evident. Others remained a mystery to him. In one corner he was startled to see a garish tri-level twizzat—three iridescent discs that spun around a common center, flashing colors in series. Though nothing more than a cheap child’s toy, it was conspicuously out of place in the otherwise altogether Tlelian room. He perked up at the sight of it. Its presence signified that whoever had found him, freezing and unconscious out in the forest, had contact with Commonwealth goods and services. Perhaps the twizzat’s owner had even bought it in Tlossene.

A shape ambled in, ambulating via the now familiar side-to-side rocking stride of Gestalt’s natives. Flinx recognized female accoutrements. She carried a sealed container. Flinx reached up to his throat to make sure the translator necklace was still dangling in place. Like the rest of him, it was battered but still functioning.

“My name is Vlashraa. My friends and I were out hunting when we found yu and yur creature.”

Nodding to indicate that he understood, he gestured in the direction of the single window. “Her name is Pip. Mine is Flinx.” He turned back to her. “I lost my identification and everything else in the river when my skimmer went down.”

The tone of her reply suggested sympathy. “Yu were very cold-cold when we found yu.”

Squinting, he peered out the window. A number of unpretentious single-story structures were visible among clusters of trees similar to those where he had collapsed. “Thank you. How did you find me?”

“Yur creature led us tu yu. When we drew near, it was possible tu sense yur flii.” Her eyeband focused intently on him. “Very strong fliiflii yu emit, Flinx.”

Interesting. No one had ever commented on his flii before. With reason, since the Tlel were the first sentient species he had encountered who possessed the necessary sensory mechanism for detecting it.

She set the container she was carrying down on a low table. Several notches cut into the sides of the stand allowed room for the stout Tlel to more easily access their food, since they ate standing up. When she unsealed the very contemporary container a flurry of attractive aromas filled the room, doing battle with the otherwise noisome atmosphere. None of which the Tlel themselves could detect, he knew.

Taking a step back, she indicated the open container. “This is food yur system should be able tu tolerate. Among ur Elders, Klerjamboo has several times observed humans feeding and marked what they ate. It was he whu suggested and oversaw the preparation uv the dishes that are included here.” Like a tilting platter, her head dipped in Flinx’s direction. “If there is something in it that does not agree with yu, please tell me. We need no false reticence here.”

“Don’t worry.” As he stepped away from the bed and moved toward the table, a hungry Pip joined him. “I’m not shy.”

Since the Tlel used beds and tables but not chairs he was forced to stand as he sorted through the steaming packages stacked inside the container. Choosing the one that smelled the best, even though he knew that odor was no especial indicator of palatability, he peeled it and took a bite of the spongy material inside. Though it had the consistency of packing material, the flavor was pleasantly peppery and his stomach did not reject it out of hand.

“You saved my life,” he finally thought to mention as he dug into the nourishing contents of a second package. If not for the tiny eyes located on the end of each steaming tubular shape within, he would have thought it contained poached mung beans. Resolutely ignoring the miniature eyeballs, he bit into the stringy shapes with relish.

Vlashraa studied the process with interest. Unlike Elder Klerjamboo, this was the first time she had observed a human eating. The mechanics of it looked awkward, as if with each bite the offworlder might sprain his narrow jaws.

“Yu say yur skimmer went down. We saw no sign uv it.”

“The river swept it away.” He spoke while masticating another mouthful of the beady-eyed sprouts.

“What caused yu tu crash?”

Flinx did not hesitate. “Mechanical malfunction. The escort who was with me died. I tried to save her, but she was too badly injured in the crash.”

Vlashraa contemplated the human. His words were accompanied by a noticeable spike in his flii. Most likely a reflection of the honest emotion he must be feeling—though there was no proof of that.

“Yu are vertical. Would yu like tu go outside?” With its gripping cilia pressed together to form a single tapering point, one long attenuated arm motioned in the direction of the doorway. “Fluadann, who is senior Healer among us, says that fresh air is reputed tu be as restorative fur humans as it is fur Tlel.”

“I wouldn’t disagree. Yes, I’d like that.”

Noting that his clothing had been as neatly cleaned and laid out as if it had been treated and returned by a modern automated sanitizing unit, he dressed slowly and carefully. Though it appeared nothing was broken, he wasn’t about to take chances by making any sudden, sharp movements. Also, he was still weak from his arduous sojourn in the forest. Sending out an emotional call, he beckoned Pip to join him. As soon as she was snuggled beneath his jacket, he turned and smiled at the inquisitive Tlel.

“It’s not that Pip is shy,” he explained. “She gets cold even easier than I do.”

More village than city, Vlashraa’s town of Tleremot presented an amalgamation of old and new Silvoun he had not encountered previously. Built on a slope, the village offered sweeping views across a wide forest-filled valley all the way to the mountains that rose anew on the opposite side. The river that had claimed his skimmer and his escort could be glimpsed through a gap in the trees. Modern sprayed, prefab, and custom structures, primarily individual homes but with a few commercial buildings also visible, stood arrayed around an open circle that was the Tlelian equivalent of a public square.

A road led through the town and down to the river. Smaller structures were visible on its banks. He saw no sign of dray or other domesticated animals, though he knew that the omnivorous Tlel kept some. When not walking, the adaptive natives made use of small, powered personal transports. The largest of these could hold as many as half a dozen travelers. Though he was disappointed not to see any skimmers or aircraft, that did not mean the village was devoid of such fast means of transport.

In striking contrast with the newer part of the community, older habitations and storerooms had been dug into the side of the hundred-meter-high cliff that formed the back of the village. Over time, natural caves that a much higher, faster prehistoric river had once excavated from the rock had been walled in and enlarged. It was to one of these ancient, traditional dwellings that he had been taken, and it was there that he had been nursed back to consciousness.

As they walked through the community, Vlashraa greeted and was greeted in turn by fellow citizens. Though he could not see all of it at one glance, Flinx estimated Tleremot’s population at no more than a couple of hundred. That was not necessarily a drawback. Though small in size, the nature of its buildings, the modern accoutrements he saw in use, as well as elements of Vlashraa’s speech, all pointed to regular contact with larger, more advanced communities. His hopes were quickly and easily confirmed.

“You have communication with other towns and—cities?”

“Of course,” she told him. “We are serviced by multiple satellite relay. Is there perhaps someone in Tlossene or elsewhere on Silvoun that yu wish tu talk tu? Tu assure them that yu are alive and well, if momentarily stranded?”

Flinx considered contacting the company from which he had rented his skimmer. Better to delay reporting that awkward bit of news, he decided. Not only to avoid having to argue about circumstance and money, but because he was not yet ready to announce his continued existence among the living. Whoever had come hunting for him might also have the expertise and the wherewithal to monitor an unknown variety of communications, including any intended for a certain skimmer rental company. The longer he kept knowledge of his survival quiet, the longer his privacy and safety would be ensured.

“Maybe later,” he told the helpful Vlashraa. Refusing to take a backseat to his brain, his stomach chose that moment to speak up forcefully. The Tlel stared at him but otherwise did not react to the peculiar sotto voce growl. Even so, Flinx looked apologetic. “What I’d really like is something more to eat. I appreciate what you’ve given me already, but I’d be lying if I denied that I’m still hungry.”

“There is no need tu apologize. I am pleased fur yu. Hunger is a sign uv good health. We will pay a visit to Healer Fluadann, whu will best know what additional foods uv urs tu recommend fur yu now that yu are walking once more.”

“I have some idea,” he told her. “I’ve kept down what I’ve already eaten, and I also shared some of my escort’s food.” Bleshmaa had been accommodating that way, he recalled. Though he had thought many times of the ever-helpful escort since losing her to the river, it was only at that moment that he found himself choking up.

Observing the phenomenon in silent amazement, Vlashraa found herself wondering at the seemingly inexplicable shedding of water that had commenced from the corners of the human’s eyes.