Most of the hatchlings ran away with the brood-mothers, instinctively seeking the adults who had cared most for them in their short lives. Those who didn’t manage to escape with the broodmothers or find them afterwards mostly went to ground, hiding in whatever small hole or protective bush that they could find. Even if they don’t have any experience in the forest themselves, instinct is still strong among them and they knew what to do. A couple of groups even managed to come across Unevolved in the forest, some who had run away from the same attacks as the hatchlings themselves, others who were hunting and had no idea about the events in the village.

  Unfortunately, not everyone who entered the forest made it out again. We came across several bodies of villagers who had sought refuge among the trees only to find other predators there. The most heart-breaking was when we came across a small pack of vicious-looking creatures all crouched around the corpse of one of the village’s Unevolved, two hatchlings’ bodies already eaten down to the bone.

  Although the reptilian creatures hadn’t escaped unscathed and more than seven of their number were lying dead in the area too, numbers had clearly overwhelmed the Unevolved who the evidence showed sought only to protect the two hatchlings who had come to him for refuge. We took revenge, none of the large lizards escaping the claws and teeth of my Bound, but that didn’t bring our lost villagers back to life.

  Finding the bodies of my scouts was another solemn experience. I investigated each of their bodies, finding the same every time – a compound in their blood that River is able to identify as a paralytic, and some other wound which shows how they died.

  Several of them were already surrounded by scavengers eating the readily available meat – those we either chased away or killed outright, for all that logically I know they were just fulfilling their function in the forest. In some ways I’m glad that the invaders took the time to kill the downed samurans – if they had been alive when the scavengers had descended, their deaths would have been horrific. On the other hand, maybe we could then have saved some of them.

  When we find bodies of the dead of our village, I put them in my Inventory, taking them back to the village for a final goodbye. As nightfall approaches, we do a last circuit around the village, looking for any traces of hiding samurans who we might have missed.

  Returning to the village, I gaze at the newly-restored huts, my jaw clenched. It’s good to see – at least my people won’t have to sleep outside, exposed to the elements – but in another way it feels…wrong for the damage to have been so quickly erased.

  That impression is swiftly corrected as I lead my group back into the village itself, our last rescuees following on our heels. The beautiful tapestries which Joy creates have been taken down, the huts sober in their plain earthen designs. The ground of the village still shows evidence of the battle which had happened, the scars in the ground of both magical and mundane weapons present. Intentionally so, I would guess, considering how pristine the huts look. Our own Earth-shaper would have been easily capable of wiping away all the traces even if the invading Earth-shaper is still being affected by the mana inhibitor.

  My group heads towards the centre of the village, the large area where I was once held in a cage, fought to become leader, developed a council which holds all samurans in the village as equally important, and then returned to find it covered in the blood of my people. Now, it serves as the collection ground for all the bodies of my people, far too many added to the rows since I’ve been away.

  The extensive rows of corpses and the stench of death in the air are a reminder to everyone of the day’s events as one by one all the samurans assemble, no orders necessary. Everyone is silent, sensing the solemnity of the event as I pull more and more bodies out of my Inventory to add to the rows.

  In total, I count the bodies of five Warriors, sixty-three Unevolved, and thirty-two hatchlings. Perhaps more bodies lie in the forest, but if so I have not been able to find them. I’m grimly pleased to see that the samurans have collected even the bodies of Artemis’ pack – they, too, were defenders and I’m glad they’ve been recognised as such. I spot Artemis herself lingering at the edges of the crowd still gathering around us.

  These bodies are in addition to the twelve Warriors and the Pathwalker who I had previously counted. I bite my lip as my eyes linger on the vacant features of Flicks, the village’s first true Fire-Shaper – and my personal student. All at once I have the urge to explode and send a wave of unquenchable fire burning in all directions, and then to fall crumpled upon the ground.

  Too many of my people. Far too many. Someone has to pay for this.

  I turn on my heel, fixing my gazes on the perpetrators. They stand apart, none of the samurans from my village willing to even be in arm’s length of them. Not with this obvious display of their actions in front of us.

  “Do you see what you’ve done here?” I demand from them hotly. “Do you see what your senseless quest for power and the baseless fears of your leader have done?” My fury is given no excuse to descend on them: they all have the grace to dip their heads, regret and remorse flickering through the Bonds between us. Not one gives me an excuse to attack; even Water-former doesn’t dare to meet my eyes with defiance.

  With frustration, I turn to face the bodies once more. I abruptly regret giving the Warriors an out earlier today, even though I know that at the time it felt right to do so. And ultimately, they were only following the orders of their Pathwalkers, in particular, their leader. Suddenly, I feel savagely glad that I killed Flying-blade, and almost regretful at how quick it was.

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  At the same time, I have to recognise just how much of my anger is directed at myself. For leaving my people so unprotected. For letting another village’s good trump that of my own. For being so predictable that my enemies knew just how to ensure that I wouldn’t be there for my own villagers. For not realising that the issue with Flying-blade wasn’t dealt with and preparing. For not even realising that we were being watched for weeks. Regret turns the heat of my rage to ashes.

  “Too many of our people were killed today,” I intone, my eyes glancing from one still body to the next. “But the majority of them died doing what they felt was right – defending our home. We will never forget their sacrifice. They chose to put the lives of our Pathwalkers above their own, holding the good of the village to be greater than themselves. We will never forget their sacrifice.”

  We will never forget their sacrifice. I glance back to see River standing beside her sisters, the Bond between us flashing with furious sorrow. Her grief calls to my own, pulling up a wellspring of sorrow that almost chokes me.

  We will never forget their sacrifice. This time it’s not River, it’s Happy, not resembling her nickname in the slightest, her face transformed by the odd shadows cast by the fire elemental bobbing over her shoulder. I’m relieved that she was able to save Aingeal and feel ashamed for not thinking of it earlier. As my acknowledgement, the brightly glowing orb of light flies towards me, emanating such joy at our rejoining that I can barely bear it, as consumed by grief as I am. I send it a greeting, but can do no more than that. Not right now.

  The refrain echoes around the crowd, more and more of my people taking it up, their eyes fixed on the bodies of the heroes who fought and died this day.

  “Among this number are those who didn’t choose to fight. Those who couldn’t choose, their lives taken before they had the option to stand and fight or run. The hatchlings who had only just started their lives. Who knows what they might have become? These, too, we will never forget. May the ancestors have mercy on all of their souls.”

  May the ancestors have mercy on all of their souls.

  I must be becoming more samuran than I thought – it’s only when the crowd behind me repeats my words in a rolling rumble of grunts that I realise what I’d said.

  Holding out my hand, I concentrate. A moment later, there are several cries from behind me as every single body ignites at the same moment. Perhaps the Pathwalkers and Warriors are finally realising just how merciful I was to them earlier. Maybe they see how much easier it would have been for me to wrap them in a tornado of fire, burning them to ashes for daring to attack my people. The explosion I caused among them was far less than I could have done – if I didn’t have to worry about suffocating those of my village sheltering in the den below.

  It remains to be seen whether I will regret my mercy.

  Aingeal flies into the flames that consume the bodies of my people, its simple joy caring little for the source of the fire, only that the flames exist and are intense enough for it to delight in.

  Though normally I find its simple emotions to be freeing, reminding me that life doesn’t have to be as serious as I usually see it, this time, its enjoyment grates. I do my best to shut the emotions off. Aingeal’s innocently hurt confusion would normally be enough for me to release the barrier I’ve just put up, but not right now. I can’t deal with it at this moment.

  Instead, I just focus on controlling the inferno consuming the corpses with iron-clad precision.

  By the time I’m done, nothing but ashes remain, even the bones transformed into dust by the intense heat that I kept contained within each of the bodies. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Sleep well, my people, I can’t help praying even as two solitary tears trace their way down my cheeks.

  Stepping away from the ashes when the last embers of the fire have gone out, I retrieve from my Inventory the carcasses of the beasts we killed in the forest while searching for those who had run away from the village. There are already a number of bodies present – the beasts we were farming who clearly didn’t run away from the invading samurans fast enough. Fortunately, it’s only the slowest and weakest of our beasts.

  “Feel free to eat,” I mutter to those around. “It’s been a long day.” I can’t bear to follow my own advice. Instead, I stride towards the mountainside gate. The barest whisper of fur and talons on the ground reveal that I’m not travelling alone. “You don’t have to come with me,” I tell my little band. “You need to rest.”

  We’ve done this dance before, Bastet reproves me, Storm and Ninja padding at her side this time around.

  Yeah. I told you then and I’ll say it again now – you were there for me when I was hurt. I’m here for you now, agrees Lathani, her tone far more solemn than it was the last time this situation came up.

  “Even if I’m going to demand answers from your mother if she’s back at the den by now?”

  Even then. She was not here. I want to know why. Her voice is more plaintive than I can bear and I look away from her.

  “Alright,” I agree, unable to say anything else. I look at the two Evolved samurans who have followed me too. “I guess that you two don’t want to stay for the post-funeral wake?”

  Pride and Fenrir decided that their bellies were empty, Catch replies with a shrug. But I would prefer to join you.

  As would I, agrees River, sending me something down the Bond which I can only name as love. Not an intense romantic love, but a soothing, supportive familial love. Something I’ve sorely missed. I can’t help but give her a small, weak smile in response despite the grief and self-condemnation which still rips at my insides.

  A familiar lump lands on my shoulder.

  I’m coming too, Sirocco tells me as if it should be obvious.

  Once more, I feel gratitude for the friends I’ve made, the family I’ve discovered. Together, we cover the ground between the village and my den as quickly as we can. Even before we reach the vine-stranglers, I sense Kalanthia’s unmistakable presence.

  She’s back.

  here!

  here!

  here