Noir sits next to me, his wings and tail wrapped around himself for comfort. We both gaze up at the dawn-lit sky in silence, watching as the massive form of Raven quickly dwindles, the far smaller shapes of Daphne and Ivor becoming dots in a remarkably short time. The Warrior from Flying-blade’s village who’s currently tied to his back has already vanished from sight.

  The fact that the samurans have no written form of their language has complicated things slightly – I would have much preferred to ask Raven to drop a message over their village from a safe height and then fly off once he’d verified that they’d read it. However, since that possibility was off the table, I decided that sending one of the newly captured Warriors was the second best idea – ordered to reveal only the information we want the red leader to know, of course.

  I’ve given him very, very limiting instructions enforced by the Bond to ensure that he doesn’t accidentally or on purpose tell the red leader information we wish to keep quiet. If she kills him afterwards, it is not a significant loss to our people. Besides, as one of her own tribe, she should be less inclined to kill him anyway. I can only hope that my message will have the intended consequences. Ideally, she’ll respond to my suggestion for peace, but if not, hopefully she will be prompted to come as soon as she possibly can.

  It’s only when all four of them have vanished into the distance, indistinguishable from the increasingly bright sky, that I turn to look at Noir.

  The small black alcaoris looks absolutely miserable. And well he might. His father hadn’t been cruel last night, but he had been brutally honest as he refused Noir’s presence on this trip. ‘You will slow us down,’ had been only one of the points which I saw cut through Noir like a knife – or like one of Raven’s knife-like claws. ‘There is no point – you are clearly incapable of developing your internal channels. My brothers will not accept your presence; that is certain,’ had been another.

  I know that none of the things Raven said were exactly news to Noir, but having them voiced out loud so plainly has clearly pained him terribly. I reach over to gently lay my hand on his shoulder.

  He flinches at my touch but then lowers his head from the sky to look at me. Over our Bond spills a torrent of emotions – hurt, regret, longing…and despair. I’m not surprised at any of them, but do my best to send a wave of consolation back at him.

  “Hey, I know Raven was a bit…blunt, but don’t be too downhearted,” I say gently. “You have a place with me for as long as you like, no matter if you ever manage to Evolve or not. And you’re already the quickest and most agile of your siblings, even if you don’t have their endurance.”

  Noir sends back a mournful feeling with a hint of complaint at me, as if to say that it’s not enough. At this, I pull my hand back to cross my arms and level him with a hard look.

  “‘When life gives you lemons, make lemonade’ is something people say back where I’m from. And basically, it means to not mourn what you don’t have, but use what you do. And what you already have is the ability to fly, claws and teeth that cut through opponents like nobody’s business, speed and agility, intelligence beyond most of those of your level, a healthy body, and acceptance within a group which can make up for your lack of magic. Frankly, that’s significantly more than many creatures in this forest can boast,” I lecture him. “And if you’re looking for a job, I need a scout who can keep an eye out for samurans sneaking around the forest who shouldn’t be there. Can you do that for me?”

  I’m fairly sure from what Flying-blade said before I killed her that there shouldn’t be any other enemy samurans around for now, but better to be safe than sorry. And if it gives Noir a much-needed sense of importance and usefulness, then good. If it turns out that the two missing Warriors just got lost or detained somewhere and Noir finds them, even better. Everything is possible even if the probability of that particular one is slim to say the least.

  The young alcaoris eyes me for a moment as if questioning my motivations in asking him to do this task. I don’t let any hint of anything but sincerity leak through our Bond or into my expression and, not long after, he sends me a sense of cautious acceptance.

  “Good,” I tell him, giving him a smile and reaching forwards slowly. This time when I touch him, he doesn’t flinch away but instead presses his head into my caressing fingers. “Just wait, Noir. Maybe one day you’ll say that this was the best thing your father could do for you.”

  The alcaoris hatchling pulls back and sends indignation down the Bond between us. I wince – perhaps that was too soon.

  “Or not,” I sigh, not pushing it. “Anyway, don’t you have a job to be getting to?” I ask him pointedly. He nudges at my fingers with a facade of imperiousness that I can easily see past thanks to the backdoor into his emotions that the Bond offers. I willingly rub behind his eye ridges, sensing his need for reassurance.

  Then, not long after, he spreads his wings and leaps into the air, doing a circle around me and then darting off. I’m struck anew by how, despite his lack of Energy channels or magic, he flies so easily in the air. It’s not like his bones are even hollow. He’s far heavier than he should be to be capable of flight, and even if, by some miracle, he managed to get himself into the air, he should be a lumbering beast, like a bomber plane. Yet he’s not – he’s as quick and agile as a swallow, darting about the air as if he was made for it.

  Heading to the farming area, I search for the next person I wanted to speak to.

  I find Bares-claws just inside one of the enclosures encircled with a hedge. I lean on the thick bush and curiously watch what he’s doing without announcing my presence. He’s crouched next to one of the deer-like stios which seems to have broken its leg. Two other Unevolved are holding the stio down, stopping it from pushing itself to its feet despite the injury, but it’s clear that Bares-claws is running the show. He’s clicking gently at the creature, doing his best to soothe it. The stio is sweating and trembling, its eyes rolling in its head – I can sense its fear and pain even from a distance.

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  Bares-claws gently wraps a clawed hand around its muzzle, tipping a liquid down its throat and letting go as the stio fights his hold.

  I watch as the stio’s trembling fades, its body relaxing into the ground and its eyes going glassy and distant. The two Unevolved who were holding it down slowly release their grips and turn to Bares-claws, questions flickering in their spikes. Bares-claws flicks his hand at them in obvious dismissal. I’m slightly surprised as they lift their chins slightly. It’s an unexpected sign of respect for someone who is ultimately no higher in the official hierarchy of the village, and who is new to it besides. The two Unevolved then hurry off, not spotting me leaning on the hedge nearby.

  Bares-claws is just as unaware of my presence as they were, focussing on the stio at his feet. I wait to announce myself, curious about what he’s going to do. He takes advantage of the stio’s more-relaxed state to shift its leg straight. He then takes a stick and a thick leaf, using the stick as a splint and the leaf as cushioning as he then wraps a thick vine around the limb, binding the whole construction in place.

  Finally, he pulls another vial from the hide bag at his side and puts it to the stio’s muzzle. It pulls back from his hand, but its motions are clearly weak and uncoordinated. Bares-claws doesn’t have to put much effort in to feed the deer-like creature a liquid that I recognise as a healing potion.

  He pulls the vial away from the beast’s mouth after a moment, puts it away, and then seems to wait for something, stroking the stio’s neck and continuing to click gently at it in the meantime.

  I decide that it’s the right time to reveal my presence, stepping forward while intentionally making some noise. Bares-claws snaps his head around, his jaws already opening in warning. Then, spotting exactly who it is approaching him, his spikes flush a pale yellow in fear and he quickly lifts his chin high into the air.

  Honoured Pathwalker Tamer! I mean, Tamer. I mean, Pathwalker Tamer. I–

  “It’s fine,” I interrupt. Clearly the most recent events have undermined the efforts I and my companions have made to make him feel more comfortable with me. Then again, I suppose that becoming aware of the defeat of one’s old village and the Binding of those who used to lead it – who survived – would be enough to make anyone feel nervous when coming face to face with the architect of it all.

  Not to mention that he was no doubt also a witness to the aftermath of the battle with Flying-blade and her group, maybe even a witness to the battle itself. Not something that would put a newcomer at ease, perhaps fearing that he might be tarred with the same brush, held responsible for the sins of his village and tribe.

  At least, that’s what I read from what he’s leaking over the Bond. I smile at him in reassurance – keeping my mouth closed. Climbing over the hedge is a matter of seconds. I could have leaped over it in even less time, but feared that the sudden motion would have startled both Bares-claws and the stio he’s trying to keep calm. Apart from in the first moment of surprise, his claws have continued scratching soothingly at the stio’s scales.

  “Want to tell me what you’re doing here?” I prompt him, intentionally sending a wave of warm encouragement down the Bond between us.

  He eyes me and then looks at the stio contemplatively.

  ‘I…this beast caught her foot in a hole in the ground. Her front leg was broken. We caught her and brought her down to the ground – she risked worsening her injury by continuing to run on it. I gave her a sip of a potion which renders the beasts relaxed and lessens their pain significantly. I straightened her leg and then splinted it, and then gave her a little healing potion. With enough time, it should heal her leg to the point where she shouldn’t be crippled for life.” Bares-claws looks at me, suddenly worried. Pathalker Herbalist said that it was fine to use the potions on injured beasts. I hope that I have not overstepped in doing so.

  “It sounds like you did the right thing,” I reassure him. “And yes, as long as the potions are safe for beasts to have, I completely agree on them being used.” I then eye him in interest. “Why did you heal the stio yourself? Why not call for Herbalist, or one of the Healers, or Reducer? Or me even?”

  Bares-claws looks down at the ground.

  I did not want to disturb any of the Honoured Pathwalkers, not for such a minor injury, he tells me firmly, then hesitates. And…I did not want the beast to suffer longer than she had to, he admits as if it was shameful to feel compassion for the now-relaxed stio. And perhaps under his old master, it was. But no longer.

  “I’m glad you did,” I tell him firmly, more convinced than ever that this is the samuran I want to leave as the main tamer of the village. Perhaps with him guiding both farmers and other potential tamers, a considerate, more compassionate approach would become the rule rather than the exception. “And I’ll tell Herbalist to make sure that the farmers are always kept well-supplied with potions to allow them to offer quick aid to their charges. I might need you to train them in the potions’ use, though. Actually, how do you know how to do all this?”

  Bares-claws shrugs. Pathwalker Healer from my village sometimes needed an extra pair of hands. When my master didn’t need my services, Pathwalker Healer sometimes called me in to help. He hesitates. She said…she said that I have a gift for soothing those in my presence.

  I nod slowly. Some sort of aura? It would make sense why he was able to convince so many of the scattered beasts to return to us in that case, despite not being able to communicate with them like I can. It’s true that he has a very…restful sense about him. I can understand why the stio, now comfortable, is willing to relax beneath his claws, even though as a predator, he is something the prey-animal should be very wary of.

  I nod again, this time decisively. I’ve seen enough.

  “Alright. Bares-claws, I want to take you as my personal…assistant, if you’re amenable, for the purpose of seeking your Evolution as soon as possible. Would you be amenable to that?”

  The samuran looks at me with his lower jaw hanging slightly open, his eyes wide in surprise.

  Would I be amenable…Honoured Pathwalker, it would be an honour to call you master!

  I smile with a bit of relief. I should have expected that reaction considering everything I know about samuran society, but the fear that went through him when he first saw me made me question whether he might prefer to stay away from me as much as possible. The flood of awed excitement that I feel now puts rest to any doubts on that score.

  “Excellent. Though I prefer to be called ‘Markus’ rather than ‘master’. But I won’t be angry if you slip up,” I assure him when he looks suddenly fearful. “Right, my new assistant, my first action will be to check your internal Energy channels to see if there’s anything stopping you from advancing there. Sound good?”

  The samuran gazes me with such amazement in his eyes that I suspect if he were capable of it, he’d be crying. Instead, I just feel a tumult of emotions through the Bond and see them flickering wildly in his spikes.

  It sounds good, he replies, his vocalisations very faint. It sounds very, very good.

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