Hudyn, Ramii, and Katuo lay stretched side by side upon the vast cap of a giant k’nanum. This ancient growth, both distinctive and widespread, flourished throughout the Kabono Forest, one of the grandest in all Ao’Mahgar Grandcrystal. If Hudyn, the tallest among them, were taken as a measure, the k’nanum rose some hundred times his height.

  All three had grown more than a handspan taller since their arrival. Nor was it only their height that had changed, but their very build as well. The two lads had grown noticeably broader and more solid. Katuo, though sturdier than before, still retained the slender grace of her form.

  Their dreamy gazes passed slowly over the floating isles suspended in the air, where crystalline light shimmered softly. Wisps of azure cloud mingled with pristine white and drifted past, until it seemed to the youths that the lands themselves were adrift, and not the clouds. Long trailing flocks of creatures stretched across the heavens like threads drawn from one island to another, or woven through the hanging roots of luminous crystal.

  Those birds are something, aren’t they? One after another, following in line. No one has to remind them. They fly in the same direction. They look for food together. They’re free, and peaceful, and simple, and easy to understand… Surely none of them has to feel hurt because of another… Perhaps they know how to miss one another, how to care, but not how to be hate. How strange… truly strange… One thought followed another, drifting freely through Katuo’s mind.

  “How long have we been here?” she asked, mostly to put an end to that wandering stream of thoughts.

  “By the reckoning Krutas taught me,” Ramii said slowly, “we’ve been here nearly five ga’onax. As for the calendar back home, I’ve no idea how many years have passed. And still we’re lingering here. We haven’t managed to capture a single scout. The only thing I know for certain is that my mother is alive, imprisoned somewhere in Ao’Hanoorat. And I’ve always had the feeling she still lives.”

  “So do I,” said Katuo. “I believe we’ll find a way to rescue her. Your mother is a good woman. She’ll be watched over from above.”

  “Oh, is that so? Good people only get the short end of the stick.” Hudyn broke off, feeling Katuo’s glance burn against his cheek. “Well, that’s how I see it. Let me tell you something, Katuo. My grandma used to say my parents were kind people too. So kind they both died young, leaving me with her. Then she passed away as well, and I ended up alone in the monastery. My grandma was gentle. She never once scolded me. She cared for me. And she never let me go hungry…” His voice trailed off.

  He cleared his throat. “Ahem… Being good doesn’t mean good things will happen to you. No one knows what’s coming. So you might as well live as comfortably as you can, at least without harming anyone. That’s all I mean, not that I’m jinxing Mrs. Tlyna or anything.

  Don't worry, Ramii. We will find your mother. I’ve got a gut feeling about it. And I’ll do whatever it takes to help you, even if it costs me my life—”

  “Enough!" Ramii cut him off. "Say one more word and I won’t know whether to cry or punch you. I don’t want you dying for me, alright?"

  “Hey, Katuo,” he changed the subject, “you still haven’t told me about that s’goarok. How did you manage to tame it? Hudyn and I spotted one in the Lodoms and chased it. Ended up nearly getting ourselves shredded."

  “I remember that,” Katuo grinned. “You two were incredibly reckless. The truth is, I didn’t tame it at all.”

  It had all begun with Rudidi secretly practicing how to ride the g’loors, and she dreamed of a journey far beyond the familiar woods. She kept trailing after Katuo and urged her again and again to take her along. And in the end, Katuo simply couldn’t refuse her persistent pleading.

  Afterwards, Katuo and Rudidi soared and played throughout the Lodom Mountains. As they ventured into a narrow ravine, Rudidi’s sharp eye espied a young s’goarok, wedged fast between the stones. Katuo followed the slopes above, found its nest near the mountain’s crest and perceived that the poor creature had fallen from that lofty place. The beast was sorely wounded and breathed but faintly. Therefore they resolved to bear it back and seek Lyndorin’s healing.

  As the young s'goarok was rescued and nursed back to health, Katuo and Rudidi bore it back to its nest. The mother had long been scouring the mountains in search of her lost offspring. She spied them from afar and came hurtling toward them in fury. Her young one, recognizing her, shrieked loudly in reply. In that perilous moment, Katuo tried to stood still. She met the beast’s eyes and sent forth a call through the art of omi’Oa. By good fortune, the beast checked itself at the last moment, for she perceived Katuo’s goodwill. From that ga’a onward, Katuo grew acquainted with the mother and befriended her—the very s’goarok she now rides.

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  “Knowing an extra tongue does have its uses, I’ll grant you that,” Hudyn concluded, when Katuo had finished recounting the whole story.

  ~~~

  Much the same as last time, after a ga’onax of harsh training, Master Tiknahah bade his three disciples return to the K’houbo Tribe. By this time, they were becoming more adept in orO’ spellcraft, which shaped many kinds of adaptable weapons. orO’ could also turn Yooni seeds into soft coverings that wrapped the body like clothing. At higher levels, it formed them into thick, sturdy armor.

  Of late, the trio ranged across the lands and woods of the Holigeng Highlands. At the same time, they practiced the art of concealment. Their bodies were sheathed in o’armor, scaled from head to toe. The armor could alter its hue and texture to match their surroundings. If any were to look down upon them from above, they would not mark the three unless they stirred. Their forms were lost against the mottled yellow of the k’nanum cap.

  It had been a long time since the friends had talked so much together. They reminisced about old times, going back to when they first met. That day, Katuo floundered in the river and nearly drowned. Ramii and Hudyn, strangers then, both dove in and pulled her to shore. From then on, the three grew close and soon became inseparable.

  No matter how much they had gone through, they would often speak of the times they played and got into trouble together. Those childhood stories stayed with them the most and made them laugh the hardest.

  “I’ll never forget our glorious days in Diang,” said Ramii. “Back then, I felt so free, going wherever we wanted, playing whatever we liked, and didn’t have to worry about a thing. Someday, I’ll write down all our stories in a book. When I’m old, I’ll read it again or share it with my kids and grandkids.”

  “That’s a great idea!” exclaimed Katuo. “I’ll help you write that book. But I’ll make the happy stories long and the sad ones short. And I’ll draw all the wondrous things in this realm.”

  “Dreamers, the both of you,” Hudyn let out a huff. “I can’t even read. Do as you please. Talk about books and children when we actually make it out alive.”

  “There you go again, running your mouth.” Katuo elbowed him sharply in the ribs. “You’re not a child anymore. Of course we’ll live, and we’ll bring Ramii’s mother home.”

  Ramii laughed. “It’s alright, Katuo. I know my old monkey too well.”

  “Aye. Ramii’s right about that.” Hudyn clicked his tongue. “Just when things were fine, I had to grow up out of nowhere. When I was a boy, I didn’t have to think so much. I didn’t have to watch what I said, or second-guess what I should or shouldn’t do. I couldn’t wait to grow big and become a warrior, maybe even a knight. Now I see it’s no easy path. You have to bleed for it. You have to weep for it.”

  “Even now, I’m still haunted by the Master’s lessons.” He shivered. “Those m’zil—I hate them more than anything. I wasn’t scared of those giant D’lomox beasts, but just thinking about those tiny devils gives me chills. They buzzed around and bit me here and there. It starts with just a few, buzzing about. They bite, they drain my blood, and before I know it I’m itching all over, miserable beyond words. The more I swatted at them, the more arrived. I kept crushing them, and soon they had gathered into a great swarm that nearly devoured me alive. I was close to losing my mind. But the Master did not save me. He offered only a few hints and left me to deal with it myself. He showed no mercy… And you two, which lesson hit you the hardest?"

  “The clouds…” Katuo began. “This was the lesson I feared most. That day, Master gave me a large sack of provisions and led me into a cloud. Inside, everything was white. Even the ground was a blinding white. He told me to find my way out before I starved. So I walked, not knowing where I was going. When hunger came, I took a little from the sack. I don’t know how long I wandered. The endless white around me began to wear on my mind.

  At last the food was gone. I was exhausted and desperate, with no tears left to cry. When I thought I was about to die, I let go of everything. I stopped moving. I stopped thinking. And that was when the cloud vanished.”

  The round clouds drifting across the sky stirred something in Katuo’s memory. “Ah—and the lesson called ‘Brood the Seed,” she continued. “Master gave me a round stone and bade me incubate it until it hatched. When I lay down and set the stone upon my belly, I could not move. The more I worried and let my thoughts run, the heavier it grew, until I could scarcely breathe.

  He told me to let my thoughts drift away and watch them as I would the clouds. Only then could I breathe again. When at last I mastered it, the stone dissolved into smoke.”

  Katuo turned to Ramii. “And you? Did any lesson frighten you?”

  “Ah, of course there were.” Ramii pressed a hand to his brow. “Once, the Master made me conjure Floraminas in my own likeness. He even trained me with the sword. I never thought he would be so skilled in blade and combat, no less formidable than Skichip. I had to fight them until I was utterly spent. They nearly killed me. And each time I struck one down, it felt as though I were taking my own life.”

  The lessons Master Tiknahah set before them were many. Even now, they could not understand how they had endured such trials. They spoke no more of their hardships. One drew slow, steady breaths. Another stretched his arms and legs, easing the tension from his body. The third rolled lazily from side to side. They remained upon the soft, moss-scented cap of the k’nanum, resting there at ease and savoring the peace of it.

  ~~~