5. Dawn

Heavy steps was the only sound that filled the night. Now that the village was far behind, the hills had fallen back to sleep. The only thing that could stir them out of it was the procession of machines making their way along the slithering, hollow path between the mounds. It wasn't a straight shot to their destination but there was no point going up and down incessantly: that was what the green striders ahead of Tuläp had decided.

Homefinder was moving its large legs at a set rythm, except when the terrain forced it to tip over and move in diagonal. No matter the position its pace was unimpeded, it knew how to put down its feet so as to keep balance. It advanced faster than Tuläp ever could by running on hard ground, let alone over the soft grass. Thanks to the latter, the stider's march was muffled from a tempestuous ruckus to the clatter of machinery. It wouldn't be heard from a certain distance. From up close however, it made for quite the monotonous background noise. The brunt of each step was rocking the riders in their seat too, even if that was another feeling her body was getting used to.

Dozing off in those conditions sounded like a terribly uncomfortable experience. And yet Tuläp hadn't heard a single word from the passenger behind her since their departure. The day had not lacked in activities for a cloistered little girl, and now that the tension of the ceremony was gone, there was nothing more natural for her than to sleep like a log. Tuläp felt the same way: now that they had crossed the line and set out on their journey, the weight that had been accumulated from dawn to evening on her shoulders had melted. What little remained of it had been grinded to dust by the quiet ride and blown in the wind.

If she hadn't slept the night before, she might have succumbed to it now. Homefinder had enough autonomy to avoid crashing into obstacles and to adapt to the terrain, so it might not have been disastrous to close her eyes. That being said, her current objective wasn't to cover as much ground as possible. If she didn't keep an eye on her companions to follow them, she would be the laughingstock of the village for generations, maybe eternity.

"...It's so clear and calm, it feels like a lie..."

Instead, she enjoyed the feeling of the wind in her hair while the moon was still up. It blew from the West, where they were headed. Her breath made a white cloud barely visible against the black sky. She and Mashë were dressed up against the cold, so she shouldn't have to worry about that girl. It didn't hurt to look back from time to time; she tugged on Mashë's scarf to cover her mouth and nose, or else that peaceful face would be frostbitten all over. But protecting her meant less nursing and more vigilance: the small figures around Homefinder demanded her attention most of the time.

They were actually quite large, but next to the sheer size of her strider they looked like children thronged around their mother. Homefinder was the centre of their procession, with Dus keeping up just behind them as promised. His strider was the smaller, one-seat type. He didn't need to transport anything, so he had opted for speed and mobility instead; or maybe that was the only one Tano had accepted to give him. Two similar striders were leading the way in front of Tuläp.

Although the pilgrimage was to be done only by the young Chosen and her two Protectors, the first leg of their journey wouldn't be made alone. Part of a Watcher's duty was to scout the area around the village both for resources and for danger. As long as they were within known territory, they would be escorted to the real start of their pilgrimage.

"Dus, can you hear me?" Tuläp fiddled with the control board. "How much longer do we have?"

The striders were equipped with radios for short-distance communication. A proper message would struggle to travel beyond the horizon but it was unlikely she would ever need more than that. There wouldn't be anyone farther out. For now it could break the monotony a bit; however, the voice that answered didn't belong to dus.

"Are your eyes getting heavy already? Try counting the blades of grass." Mazcar sneered. "Quick! Before they slip away!"

"Focus on the path and mind your feet, Mazcar." Tuläp said. "I can't count them if you fall face first in it."

The thought of moving Homefinder's legs just a bit to the side and give him a good fright wriggled into her head, and it was alluring. But she wasn't precise enough with those movements to avoid smashing him entirely, so instead she made a face to the control board.

"Why are you coming with us anyway?" She grumbled.

"Keep pondering over it, if that keeps you occupied. I'm not having fun either, you know? It's so cold my leg hurts."

"That's why I tell you to stay tucked in."

The former Watcher was probably saying something in return. He could keep running his mouth: Tuläp changed the frequency and his voice turned into a formless gargle, and then into silence. She could certainly while away the time in heated debate with him, but she didn't want to feed his sarcasm either. That tendency to poke fun at whatever he could latch on had always been a trait of his, even when she had been little.

"...T...sh... Tuläp?"

The radio spoke again, this time with a different voice. She had left it on so Dus could meet her on a different frequency.

"I hear you."

"We were finally getting some animation."

"I'm not bored."

"I wouldn't blame you."

"I can't make too much noise anyway. Mashë's sleeping."

"Ah." He lowered his voice even though it wasn't that loud through the radio. "But you still had something to ask me, right? If you're not fighting boredom, are you getting impatient?"

"Only curious. I thought we were only supposed to travel by night. The moon is getting low, are we really going to reach our destination before sunrise?"

"Our guides know more about that than me. The village has moved so much in all those years, what constitutes the limit has moved with it. They said we should keep going, so they must be confident we can make it. For that matter, when we left I heard mention of an outpost."

"A vestige?"

"Most likely. Those aren't always safe but they are easier to spot than a slightly taller hill."

"So it can't be somewhere I've ever been..."

When the village migrated, it wasn't in a straight line toward the East. Tuläp had a vague recollection of where the previous two settlements were in relation to the current one. The rest of her memories were spread thin across a vast green expanse. As she had grown older, Tuläp had learned to venture outside for the sake of their daily needs. Gathering food and watching over the cattle didn't require to go far out though. Only once in her life, she had caught a glimpse of where the plains and the hills ended, such a faraway memory that she might have dreamed it.

"Does the thought distress you?"

"If it did, I would be a sham of a Protector."

"That's quite the strength you have, then. If that's the truth."

"..."

"Generally, it's nerve-wracking. Except maybe for young men who want nothing more than a taste of the world. After the first day, even they start to understand that their home is behind them."

"It's not that bad. All the pilgrims must have been at least my age, right? After a day or two, they could still be somewhere they've explored before."

"It's not about where. It's about how far. Take a look around you, Tuläp – how does it seem to you?"

Even if she hadn't looked, throughout the first few hours of their trip she had become soaked in the dream of the Dor hills. The lethargic titans of grass. The breath of the night coursing between them and exacerbating the cold. The golden moon shone upon the hilltops, shards of that light would sometimes reach the path between the hills. In order to find that path, the steeds of steel shuffled between mounds and valleys, stepping through moonbeams and then into shadows again. There was probably life bustling under their feet, where they couldn't hear nor see it. As far as the surface was concerned though, the only thing the eye could grasp for miles was vastness.

"...We don't exist here." Tuläp muttered.

"Without our elders, our neighbors and our children, we have no home. This place is not meant for us."

"And yet we're still going."

"Do you understand now?"

"I already know all this!"

"I suppose you had the time to dwell on it, seeing as you were designated so early."

"Yes... I've had time..."

She had thought about it for longer than that however. Ten years, in fact. As she had grown up, she had been allowed out of the village, farther and farther. She had learned how to pilot a strider and she had gone on short expeditions every so often. At every new step away from her home, she had looked out to the horizon, trying to see the furthest hills and objects. And every time, she had thought to herself that Monir had seen much farther. That he had been looking at a horizon beyond the horizon, far from home. Far from her.

Tuläp was following that road now, but her brother was not looking anymore.

"This is already the farthest I've ever been."

"And you surpass that record every second. That's how this journey is going to be."

"It doesn't matter, does it? We can go as far as land stretches and for dozens of seasons, as long as we make it back to those we left."

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"That might remain to be proven."

"We're already on our way to find out..."

"Oh, ambitious, aren't we? I hope you are mistaken, or else my bones will shrivel and dry before I can see our destination." His laugh hissed through the radio. "Hmm, but, thinking of the way back home... that's a bit disheartening at this stage. And it won't be that simple, Tuläp. If... when we come back, we'll have to search around. The elders must already be planning to move."

"What? So soon?!"

"If we are unfortunate enough to be spotted along the way, the village might be found out. For safety's sake, it's better not to linger; and so we move after each pilgrimage."

Maybe it truly was a tradition she ignored. She tried to remember how it had gone the last time, but as expected she could only think of the loneliness and the wait. She remembered how it had felt to undo and build her own hut for the first time, to move in without anyone. And years later, the feeling of finally abandoning her brother's belongings to the Dor. If Monir had returned, would he have found their village?

But they wouldn't have moved far – pipe dreaming would not soothe her. And it would have been a worse fate for him, a worst life for anyone to be lost across these endless plains. It was just like Dus had said: they didn't belong here. They didn't move the village; the village moved and they followed, for that was where their lives lied.

"They could have told me at least. Not only are we fetching prosperity for them, I'm also going to play hide-and-seek!"

"Spare yourself the headache. One misery at a time! For now, you can enjoy the dread of leaving the nest."

"I'm fine. Dread can scream like the wind, both have the same chance of driving me back. If anyone has to be pitied, it's not me."

"..."

"And in the first place, I don't have a shred of fear in me! But what about you? You have a taste for teasing, but how is Old Dus holding up, tell me?"

"..."

"When you look around you, what do you see?" She asked more seriously. "It has to be something else for you than for me, right? There's something I still don't understand. When you said you're already thrice-sworn, what did you me–"

It took her this long to understand Dus wasn't listening: he was on a different frequency. Tuläp frowned and she pursed her lips. When she turned the radio's knob, she didn't have the time to grumble; Dus was talking to their companions.

"–been patrolling as far as the previous settlement, right? Have the Watchers noticed any danger recently?"

"What's wrong, did your scars wake up too?" Mazcar said. "If you see even the tip of a black feather around, I'd prefer you said it without roundabout questions."

"If a significant threat had been found, it would have reached your ears, old man." That was another Watcher, Zetlo. "There would be better priorities than a ceremony. The gods would have forgiven us the delay."

"When was the last time Katrans attacked anyway?" Mazcar added on a lighter tone.

"Are the gods going to forgive slacking off right before a sacred mission?" Tuläp sighed.

"If there's nothing, then good." Dus chuckled. "As our village keeps moving, what was certain becomes doubtful. How much food and water there is, how far out we can see, where we can hide. Making a mistake because we take the present for granted has a high price. For example, we use the cover of night to sneak around, but have you ever thought that we're not the only ones who can do that?"

"Is that how you got that big wrinkle across your face?"

Mazcar had allayed his speech with a joke, yet Tuläp could somehow feel the malaise spreading around their group. After hearing Dus' words, each of them must have given a good look at their surroundings at least once, even if they ended up shaking their heads.

"Don't turn your hair whiter than it is." Zetlo said after a moment. "In the off chance that we are ambushed, there's nothing to fear. Look."

One of the silhouettes guiding Tuläp – it had to be him – raised his arm to point ahead of them. It was as empty over there as it was on their left or their right. By squinting, Tuläp could make out a mound taller than the others, which he might have been showing them. Just as she took it for yet another hilltop, she saw the tip and realised they were reaching their first destination.

Another handful of minutes and the shape of it became more distinct. Yes, it was taller than any hill. The round appearance of it made it look like a bloated reed, albeit a very pale one. It occurred to her that this was what they called a 'tower'. But it was slanted, like a fishing pole waiting patiently for an unknowing mouth to emerge from the green expanse.

The base was straight and curved as it went up, after which the structure spiraled into a crooked tip. As they approached, Tuläp discarded her comparison with a reed: it looked like a giant bone protruding from the land. The Dor grass was crawling on top of it as well, but due to the shape and the smoothness of the stone, it didn't smother it completely. Otherwise they would have found a massive hill in place of it.

That was a vestige.

A construct from ancient times, maybe from the days where humans and gods had lived together. They were found here and there, rare yet hard to miss in this homogeneous landscape. Tuläp suspected that the temples of the Chosen belonged to the same category, athough no one knew for certain. If they didn't, then she had only ever heard stories. Seeing one with her own eyes for the first time, various emotions coursed through her as they got closer.

It was immense.

By the time they truly reached it, she had to bend her neck to observe its peculiar shape, the end of which seemed strangely far off. If it were standing upstraight, it might have been able to scratch off a piece of sky. The base of it looked to be as wide as the village's hangar, without a visible opening along its surface.

Their group had fallen silent, Tuläp from admiration and the others from caution. The striders stopped while there was still some distance; Zetlo stepped down from his steed while Dus caught up to them and did as much. Tuläp didn't move from where she was. Mashë was still asleep in the back seat, someone had to stay around her. That being said, Tuläp still stood up and leaned over the control board to get as good a view as she could afford.

The Watcher and the veteran Protector made toward the vestige with cautious steps. They stopped when Zetlo raised his hand and motioned Dus to get down. There was enough wild grass here to take some cover, the moon wasn't shining on them. Zetlo brought a couple objects out of his cloak, a wooden shell and a small wand. By hitting one against the other, he sent dry sounds into the night: two light, one hard, three light, three hard. They waited a moment while the echo died off.

Then, a similar sound answered from the vestige, at a different rythm. Tuläp saw Zetlo nod and wave back, a signal to get going. The four striders finally dared to step into the tower's shadow. On the other side, there was actually a large crack at the foot of the structure.

"We leave the striders here. The sun will be here soon."

Tuläp was the first to go in, whereuppon she noticed the inside wasn't completely hollow. What had to be an accumulation of rubbles and vegetation had formed a wall, worn down yet spruced up by time. The cave it formed was a far cry from the wide and mysterious depths her imagination had spurned. Due to the size of Homefinder, there was just enough room for their four vehicles, plus the strider that was already there.

"Mashë." Tuläp whispered her name while shaking the little girl hesitantly. How roughly was she allowed to handle a Chosen? "Mashë, it's time to wake up."

"Mhmm..." She squirmed in her seat and scrunched up her face.

"Come on. We're going to find a more comfortable place."

"Are we arrived to the gods..?"

"We're making a stop for the day." Tuläp unbuckled her. "If we hide from the wind, you will sleep better."

It took some more encouragement to get Mashë moving drowsily; her bodyguard had to watch her carefully while she climbed down the ladder. Outside, they found the rest of their expedition, joined by a newcomer. They were greeted by the high-pitched voice of another Watcher.

"Fal Tuläp, lady Dol Mashë, welcome." She was a short woman with a helmet layered like a wild cabbage. When she bowed her head, it almost slid off. "How was the celebration?"

"Impeccable." Mazcar came up behind Tuläp, grunting all the way. "The night is clear, the way is clear, divine intentions are clear, and it's clear we don't have to be standing around. I want some warmth."

"Ah? Mazcar? What are you doing here?"

"Psh! Some welcome that is! And here I'd brought some leftovers from the banquet, just for you."

While all of them were relieved to stretch their legs, Mazcar alone was more than unhappy that he had to get down from his steed. Once his foot was on the ground, he needed a large staff to get around on his single leg. He had even given up on wearing a clock so it wouldn't get in his way. Tuläp found that he was pretty good at hopping around, all things considered. But no matter how much he got used to his condition, he would always get sore.

"Oh, something to chew on! I haven't had breakfast yet!" Their new companion led them to a small opening at the foot of the vestige, half-concealed by the grass.

"Have you been keeping an eye out, Mil?" Zetlo didn't share her enthusiasm, or maybe it was the strain of a long night.

"Things are the same as when you left. You are the first faces I get to see all week. Ah, but there's quite the activity in the underroot! It's mating season down there~."

They stepped inside one after the other. Tuläp was about to follow them but stopped. She had been distracted by a thought, or rather by a conspicuous patch of colour: eastward, a pale reddish glimmer was starting to peek between the grass mounds. Then she turned her head to the West to see the moon still drifting toward the end of the world. It wouldn't be taking a break, unlike them. She gazed at the landscape it was traversing and at the faraway line that never got closer.

"Tuläp?" Mashë looked up at her, head swaying and eyes blinking.

"Hm? Ah, sorry, I was distracted..."

She shook her head and the two of them finally took shelter from the morning wind.

This side of the tower looked similar to their improvised garage, albeit with a lot more space to work with. From the looks of it, chunks of vegetation had been manually cleared out in order to clean up the place. There were even some canvas bags piled up in a corner next to a large stack of dried roots.

Considering how organized the Watchers were around this place, they must have been using it as an outpost for much longer than seven months. And yet, it was as far as they dared to go. It had taken a full night to get here; beyond this point the isolation brought too many risks.

Yet even all the way out there, comfort still found a way: closer to the wall, mud and rocks had been gathered to form a spot where they could light a fire without danger. Mil had already seen to it, flames were crackling and spitting out sparks vigorously. It was the only source of light within the vestige. With no ceiling to hinder it, the smoke billowed up into the unfathomable heights of the tilting tower. This way, it was safe to warm themselves up without fearing unwanted guests.

"You might not fancy sitting on the floor, but there's no chairs." Mil paced around the fire for a bit before jolting. "Oh! My apologies, Dol Mashë, I don't think we have anything to make cushions either..."

"We have blankets at least." Tuläp shrugged.

They wouldn't hear the little Chosen complain anyway, oh no: as soon as the fire had entered her field of sight, Mashë had made a bee line for in. Swaddled snuggly in her blanket of wool, she sat down and absorbed the warmth, on the border bertween bliss and hibernation.

"Well I'm not going to be standing." Mazcar muttered while he hopped up to Mil. A luggage was tied around his waist, which he tried to take off.

"Let me help you, that's a job for two hands." Mil said.

"Yeah, yeah..."

While she undid the knot keeping her breakfast, Zetlo took his place around the blaze, Mashë wobbled haphazardly until she decided to lean against the wall, and Dus laid down with his feet pointing toward the exit.

"The engine kept my buttocks warm but my head is cool as a pond. What a predicament." He smirked at Tuläp. "No need to be shy, there is room aplenty."

A moan was all she could muster. She was simply standing there, watching all of it unfold, but really she was staring at the flames like a moth. A wave of fatigue hit her. Mechanically, she went to sit down next to Mashë; her staff was by her side but her arm was hanging limply around it. The warmth washed over her and made a fool of her plan to stay awake. Her half-closed eyes were lost in the fire in front of her.

But in reality, her mind was still standing outside the tower. The image of dawn lingered on, it sat down with her and leaned over her shoulder. When her eyes were completely shut, there was still that soft glow shooing away the last hours of night. But she wouldn't return there.

She had to go after the moon.