The woman was determined, Tarek had to admit. Day after day she dogged their steps, never close enough to talk to but never far enough to be out of sight. If ever she did drift close enough to get within earshot, her glare promised violence should anyone be unwise enough to speak to her. The sun was bright and strong overhead, and Tarek wondered how she was faring with such pale skin. Was it an accident of birth, maybe? I remember mamah saying once that her great-mother had one green eye and one brown – is this something like that? But that hair, too. It’s no wonder the Shinsok thought her cursed. He risked a glance behind and saw her trudging up the slope a stone’s throw back, her head down. She was strong, to have kept up so well, but her thinness pained him. I wonder if she’s been taking the meat I’ve left behind. He certainly hoped so; otherwise he was just wasting it.

They tried to stay near the gorge of the Tamarok River as they headed east toward the heart of the Land, but the terrain had other ideas. The earth along the northern side of the gorge where they walked was deeply cracked, falling away into crevices and deep holes, leaving them staring ahead at little mesas of earth that were actually the tops of broken towers of rock. If Tarek could have leapt the length of four men lying head to heels, he might have hopped across the deep gaps and kept going right across the tops of the towers in a straight line eastward… but he was only a man, so he had no choice but to turn north and go around the shattered part of the Land. They kept the shattered lands on their right and climbed into the hills, waiting for their chance to correct their course and head toward Kuruk lands and the Heart of the Song.

There were plentiful streams coming down out of the mountains here, and Pahtl relished the chance to eat fish again. In truth, he became nearly as useful as Tarek in feeding the group. Hunting in unfamiliar territory was hard, and small game was much rarer in these rocky hills than the lush jungles he was used to.

The nights were colder here, and Tarek was glad of his stolen shirt even though he let Tavi have it every other day. The three of them huddled close to Pahtl at night to share warmth, but his dreams remained troubled. Often the nightmares were of being tortured by the Iktaka – that was nothing new – but lately the torturer wore Kanga’s face. It made him uneasy even when he woke. I’ve left that part of my life behind. I’ll never drink blood again. My entire existence is devoted to ridding myself of my magic. Why does his face still plague me?

The next night he awoke from a particularly vivid nightmare and found the pale woman sitting at their dying fire warming her hands. She stared into the flames and chewed on the roasted fish he’d laid aside for her before sleeping. The flickering light painted her skin with a warm glow and made her wild tangle of hair shine. The shadows softened the harsh jut of the starveling bones in her cheeks, rounding her into something different, something strangely beautiful. Seeing her perched there, muscles still tensed even as she sat by the fire, she reminded him of nothing so much as a mist-hart.

He must have made a noise, because her face turned toward him. Her green eyes were lambent in the ember-light. She’s not a mist-hart. She’s a panther.

She did not run away or seem ashamed as she stood. She ate one more bite of fish with an air of defiance, her eyes locked on his the entire time. She took the last morsel and laid it carefully next to Pahtl’s sleeping form, then casually, confidently turned her back and walked away.

“You can stay,” he said softly.

She stopped and looked back at him, her eyes shadowed by the night. She shook her head, wild curls bouncing.

“I thought you’d go home,” he said apologetically. “There’s no point in being cold.”

Again she shook her head.

“I don’t even know your name.”

She thought about that for a moment. “You don’t need it.” Then she slipped out of the circle of light.

Tarek let his head fall back to the ground and wondered why he had tried. At least she’s eating something. He closed his eyes and conjured up the blue of Yaretzi’s eyes and the shape of her face. His heart twisted. Will she be at this Congress? Can I find a way to speak to her? Will she want to see me?

Sleep eluded him the rest of that night, and he arose stiff and sour the next morning to a chilly world wreathed in mist.

“It must be something about the river and the cold,” Tavi said as they groped their way from one tree to the next, unable to see anything beyond the nearest trunks.

“It’s like being back in the floods,” Tarek said.

“It’ll burn off as the day wears on,” Bachi said brightly.

“Mist does not burn,” Pahtl scoffed. “You should know this.”

“I’m glad we came up into the hills,” Tarek said. “It’d be too easy to fall into one of those huge cracks and die in the river before you ever saw it.” I hope that woman doesn’t get lost in this. She’s never been away from her tribe before.

“We need to talk about this Congress,” Tavi said as they walked. “It’s all very well that the chiefs will all be lined up by the great tree for us, but I doubt they’re going to let us poke them with a knife and run off with their blood just for the asking. It’s bound to be a well-guarded meeting.”

Tarek looked over at him, feigning shock. “You mean you haven’t figured it out?”

Tavi frowned. “I wouldn’t ask if I had.”

“Hold just a heartbeat, please,” Tarek said, grinning. “I thought of a plan before the little elder – I need to savor the moment.”

“Don’t feed me that wormshit,” Tavi groused. “I could think of a dozen ways to go about it.”

“But you haven’t, have you?” Tarek laughed. He slapped his hands against his chest. “I’m the smart one for once.” He threw out his arms and shouted it. “I’m the smart one!”

“It is not smart to yell into the mist in a strange place,” Pahtl said. “Besides, I am the smart one.”

“Spit it out and stop looking smug,” Tavi said, throwing a dirt clod at him.

Tarek dodged, chuckling. “You’re always telling me to listen better to the old stories, right? Well, for once I did. Xochil said it when we were at his house, remember? The Heart of the Song protects itself now to keep anyone from drinking its green magic again.”

Tavi’s eyes lit up. “Right! If anyone cuts it, a mist comes up that puts them to sleep.” He hesitated. “Are we ready to trust our lives to an old legend?”

“Xochil knows more than anyone we’ve ever met,” Tarek countered. “He said it was the reason I couldn’t just go drink from the tree myself to overwhelm the blood magic. I bet if we’d asked Seppa she’d have stories from the last Congress about people trying it.”

“So we wait until the chiefs are meeting by the tree and then make a cut into one of the big roots,” Bachi mused. “What’s to keep us from falling asleep too?”

“That I haven’t figured out yet,” Tarek admitted. “It can’t be as simple as just holding your breath. Someone will have tried that.”

“Not such a genius after all,” Tavi muttered.

“I think maybe if we wait until the mist recedes we might be able to move in before the chiefs wake,” Tarek suggested. “We don’t need the tree’s sap. We just need their blood.”

“But we don’t know how long they’ll stay asleep,” Tavi objected.

“We… do not,” Tarek said.

“If the tree puts people to sleep to keep them from getting its Song sap,” Bachi said, “then it must scab over any wound very quickly. It’ll keep the people nearby asleep until that happens.”

“A hundred heartbeats?” Tarek ventured. “Five hundred?”

“Who knows?” Tavi said. “But I can’t imagine it would be any less than that. If all three of us are collecting blood, we might be able to move in and out in a couple of hundred heartbeats.”

“I thought Tarek wasn’t supposed to touch the blood,” Bachi whispered.

“I’m not,” Tarek said. “But if we need all our hands to get it done quickly, then… I’ll have to figure out a way to control myself.”

“I don’t like it,” Tavi said.

“If you can think of another way, I’ll listen,” he replied.

Pahtl went up on his hind legs, his blunt ears perking. “Quiet, you cubs! There’s something near.”

They stilled, listening to the shrouded world. Tarek heard a branch snap, and then nothing. “It’s probably just a deer of some kind,” he whispered.

“No,” hissed Pahtl. “Your ears are bad. There are more. Very big.”

They fell silent and listened again. Tarek thought he heard rustling, but he couldn’t pinpoint it in the mist. “I don’t –”

A huge figure moved in the mist between the trees. It was hardly more than a shadow, but they all saw it. It walked upright and filled an impossible amount of space. It had to have been more than half again taller than Tarek. Bachi squeaked.

“What is that?” Tavi breathed, his eyes wide.

“What are those,” Pahtl corrected, shrinking down to huddle against Tarek’s leg.

More shapes moved, and the mist parted, revealing enormous creatures with hairy pelts, bare stomachs and faces, and huge, long arms that they used to balance upright as they walked. Their faces looked unnervingly human. There were four, five, six of them walking through the trees half a stone’s throw away.

“Knuckle-walkers!” Bachi gasped, his eyes wide.

“Back away,” Tarek whispered.

Everyone did so, trying to be quiet. Except for Bachi, who stumbled every third step and couldn’t seem to stop talking.

“Never seen them, but there are stories. Sometimes they’re kind and gentle, and other times they’re monsters. They’ve taken in lost babies and suckled them, but then they’ve also eaten whole families.”

“Later,” Tavi murmured at him, keeping his eyes fixed on the passing creatures.

“There’s even a legend of one of the females keeping a man as a lover,” Bachi whimpered.

“Stop! Talking!” Tarek hissed.

It was the wrong thing to say. The sharp, sibilant sound drew the gaze of one of the knuckle-walkers. It hooted at the others, who turned, seeing the humans for the first time.

“Wormshit,” Tavi said.

“Do not run,” Pahtl told them. “They will chase. I feel it.”

“Keep backing away,” Tarek murmured. “Slow and easy. No eye contact, but don’t look away. Like a panther.”

They backed down the slope of the hill, the troop of knuckle-walkers ambled after them slowly, seeming more curious than anything else. Even curiosity can kill when it’s something that big.

It was a long, tense fingerspan as they came down out of the hills, their backs to the river. The beasts kept trailing after them. Their expressions of curiosity might have eased Tarek’s fear if they weren’t on faces that he could have barely reached up to on tiptoes. He could hear the grumble of the rushing water growing louder in the mist and kept throwing quick glances behind himself. He was sure that they were about to fall into a crack in the earth and be swept away by the river.

“Be less interesting,” Pahtl grunted, hunkering into the dirt as he edged backward. “Maybe they will leave us alone.”

“Hum the Song!” Bachi blurted to Tavi, his eyes wide. “Maybe it’ll help!” He looked guiltily at Tarek. “Sorry,” he whispered. Then he began humming and disappeared.

Tavi looked to Tarek, obviously scared but reluctant to abandon him.

“Do it,” Tarek said. “If they ignore you maybe you can find a way to help me.”

Tavi started humming too. His stance relaxed and his breath came easier. He angled away from Tarek, and none of the knuckle-walkers seemed to care as he moved beyond the rough semi-circle they formed around Tarek. At least he’ll be safe.

The earth fell away behind Tarek, and he could retreat no further. He looked wishfully at the free-standing pillar of earth beyond the crevice and imagined leaping to safety, but the gap was at least three body lengths, and at its bottom lay a wet, murmuring death. He faced front and took a shaky breath. Sometimes they’re kind and gentle. What if this isn’t one of those times? If I try to stick one to get some blood, it’ll beat me into mash before I get my hand to my mouth.

The nearest knuckle-walker came forward, leaning on its arms and bending down close to Tarek’s face. Its dark brown eyes drank him in from beneath furry, beetled brows, and it snuffled at him, its breath like a warm gust of wind. One great hand came up, and Tarek braced himself. The too-long fingers could have wrapped themselves around his head with a joint to spare. Please don’t kill me. I have to get back to Yaretzi.

One great fingertip brushed gently against his brow, and Tarek knew this was a mother. He felt sorrow, loss, and curiosity. The leathery pad traced the hair of his brows, the line of his nose, and the curve of his jaw. The sheer immensity of her was frightening, but when her other arm came up and circled around him, Tarek knew she meant no harm. Those massively strong arms dragged him forward, and she cradled his head against her chest. Her fur was warm and coarse, and he could feel the steady thump of her heart. In and out she breathed, holding him close. From the great knuckle-walker Tarek felt… peace.

Then an angry bark echoed through the mist, and the mother set him gently back on the ground, backing away. Out of the swirling gray depths came a figure as much larger than the others as they were larger than Tarek, a great black beast with a silver mane on its head and shoulders. Tarek could have stood on his own shoulders and barely reached its chin. Its teeth were bared, revealing long, sharp eye-teeth. Its growl reverberated in Tarek’s chest, and somehow he was sure it didn’t want a hug.

“Be small,” Pahtl whispered as he scampered to a safe distance. “Submit.”

That sounded like the best idea Tarek had ever heard. He fell to his knees and prostrated himself before the mighty beast. With his nose to the dirt, all he could do was listen to the monster’s heaving breaths as it came near and hope it didn’t want to kill him.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a great weight settle onto his back. Thick, cracked fingernails dug into the dirt on either side of Tarek’s ribs, and he felt himself pushed flat against the ground. Friend! he thought frantically as their skin pressed together. No hurt!

An anger like a forest fire swept through the tenuous bond, and Tarek knew this creature did not want friends. The pressure on his ribs grew heavy, and he struggled to breathe. With his head to the side, he could see Tavi a few body lengths away, his eyes wide and his mouth a cavern of shock and helplessness. The pain grew worse.

I submit! Tarek thought frantically. You win. No fight. Submit. Please!

The heavy hand pressed even harder for one more heartbeat, and then was gone. Tarek gasped for breath, half-sobbing in relief. He hardly even cared when hot, stinking liquid splashed against his back. The great beast was urinating on him. He’d seen little dewdrop monkeys do it before, demonstrating dominance over a rival. Tarek accepted it gratefully, glad that the knuckle-walker hadn’t decided to rip his arms off instead.

At last, the foul stream ceased. Tarek stayed still, not daring to look up. He listened for the great beasts’ movements, but they were surprisingly quiet. He didn’t stir until Tavi put a hand on his shoulder, and when he raised his head, he saw the entire troop had disappeared into the mist as if they’d never been there.

“Well, that could have gone worse!” Bachi said, reappearing next to them.

“Says the one who didn’t get pissed on,” Tavi said.

“It’s all right,” Tarek said. “You couldn’t have done anything.”

“I was useless,” Tavi said bitterly. “Xochil could have waved a hand and scared them all off. Trust him to not appear when it would actually be useful.”

“I hope they didn’t cross the woman’s path,” Tarek said. “I get the feeling she’d have tried to fight all of them at once.”

“You stink very badly,” Pahtl informed him. “But I am glad you are not dead.”

“Me too,” Tarek agreed.

“At least he just marked you instead of trying to mate with you,” Bachi said cheerfully.

Tarek laughed, pulling himself to his feet. “I’d have never survived. Come on, I need to find a stream.”

Tarek washed three times, but Pahtl insisted he could still smell urine on him. “It smells like you are weak. Defeated. It makes me want to bite you and steal your food, but I will not.” Tarek dipped himself in the water one more time before deciding that Pahtl was playing a joke and declared himself clean. The mist had burned away as he washed, and they spent the rest of the day walking, finally passing the broken lands and climbing a tall ridge alongside the Tamarok to find a great expanse of valley spreading out below them. In the far-off distance they saw a tree that stretched up into the sky like a mountain, dwarfing everything else in sight.

“The Heart of the Song,” Bachi sighed. “It never fails to impress.”

Tavi goggled at it. “That must be another five days’ walk away. How can anything be that big?”

“We’re going to make it,” Tarek whispered, his heart leaping. “We’ll get the blood and we’ll take it to Xochil. It’s going to work.”

Tarek bedded down that night into a patch of soft grass with his heart glowing and his burdens lifted. Yaretzi will be there. Maybe if I have all the blood in hand and can tell her I’m on my way to get cured, she’ll come with us. Be well, my love. Be safe. I’m coming to see you. He thought of her slow, secret smile and her wise, gentle words. Ones Beneath, if you were ever real at all, protect her. Bring her thoughts of me. He drifted off into sleep thinking of that wonderful afternoon they’d spent alone together before his feast. Peace wrapped around his heart like a blanket around a baby.

Which made it all the more jarring when he awoke to a sky still dark with his head throbbing painfully, gagged, unable to move, and the sound of sobbing filling his ears.