Let us speak of Tekahentakwa. Eldest daughter of the late Chief Akwirente, she was twenty-one years old when Luminary arrived to Ganá:yeht. She remembered looking at this woman, pale-skinned and wrapped up in white shawls and a white dress, as though winter had taken on a human's form. She remembered the conversations that her parents had, for her mother, Halona, mistrusted Luminary. But when Tekahentakwa had asked her about it, her mother had merely smiled at her, patted her shoulder.

“Don't worry about the outsiders, Tekahentakwa,” her mother had said, “The Clan Mothers and the Chiefs will decide what is to be done. You should worry more about that Sa:k boy, and how he keeps coming around.”

Tekahentakwa had gone to bed that night feeling a hollow sense of relief. The childish impulse to believe one's parents that everything would be okay, despite the bad feeling in the gut. The veil of childhood once more placed over the horrors of the world.

It would be the last time that Tekahentakwa would do this, for only a few days later the metahuman with the swelling, pregnant belly would belch forth demons of a thousand kinds. They would ravage her home. Drive the Mountain clan from Father Mountain. Her mother died. Her father died. Even the 'shifty' Sa:k died, torn to pieces by a three-headed, ferret-like thing.

That had been almost two years ago.

Tekahentakwa was twenty-three now. Clan Mother of Mountain clan, though by extension she was also Clan Mother of the Oshya:de as a whole, for all five clans that lived on Ganá:yeht were together now, in one place. Mountain with Dandelion and Sky and Arrowmakers and the last Four Banner child.

Guyasuta sat in the circle of the Clan Mothers and Warleaders, for he was the last of his clan. He still wore the Four Banner mask, had painted it in colors of war. The wiry teenager, hardly thirteen, looked small against the sea of the Oshya:de who surrounded the circle.

There was only one Warleader. That was Tekahentakwa's brother, Hadawa'ko. He stood outside the circle, tomahawk still in hand, and his brow was furrowed.

“What should be done?” one of the Clan Mothers, a slight, thin woman named Wá:ri, said, “They have not killed us.”

“Yet,” Hadawa'ko grumbled.

Tekahentakwa shot her brother a dark look, before turning to the rest of the Clan Mothers.

“They have not,” she said, “And they also removed the demon.”

“That could be a trap in of itself,” another Clan Mother, tall Otstoch of Dandelion said, “A chance for cruelty. A glimmer of hope, before they wipe us out forever.”

There came a ripple of talk among the Oshya:de. Tekahentakwa looked at Otstoch. Otstoch was the oldest of the Clan Mothers, and the only one who was a mother proper, her two year old daughter being held by her sister in the crowd. She remembered when Otstoch had been happy and mischievous, how they had made beads during harvest festivals and practiced music and dancing with her mother.

“You think they would do that?” Tekahentakwa said, “Cobalt Joe seems truthful.”

“So was the woman in white,” Otstoch countered, “I don't put it past these guild outsiders to lie to us before our extermination.”

Wá:ri winced. She had been elected Clan Mother of the Sky Clan only recently, and only because there was little other option. She was a skittish girl, hardly an adult.

“What other options do we have?” Degonwadonti, of the Arrowmakers, said, “These guild outsiders, they have bound the demon to another pact. One that allows us our freedom.”

“And where would we go, with that freedom?” Otstoch said, “You heard what the metahuman said. They have taken all of Ganá:yeht.”

“We can scatter,” Hadawa'ko said, “Strike from the forests.”

“They have many powers,” Degonwadonti said, “How do we know that the forest is with us?”

“It is a forest of Ganá:yeht,” Hadawa'ko said, “It cannot betray us.”

“What if one of them can speak to the forest?” Degonwadonti pressed, “What if one of them can burn the forests down completely?”

“Th-They would do that?” Wá:ri said, “I thought they wanted to live here.”

“They can live without forests,” Otstoch said, “Can't they? Guyasuta?”

The boy started. Out of all of the Oshya:de, he was the only one who dared escape the demon, the only one who had left the caves of the western refuge to see what the New Ludayans had built.

The only one who dared escape and survived, anyway.

It took him a moment to shift, and think, and gather the courage to speak up. Even before, when Four Banner numbered ten thousand, he had been a shy boy.

The final voice of his clan, and it was a nervous one. He had no choice but to be loud.

“They like fields,” he said, “Fields to grow food. To train themselves and their powers.”

“Food and warriors,” Hadawa'ko said, “They train constantly, do they not, Guyasuta?”

The boy nodded.

“You've been talking to him again,” Tekahentakwa said, “Haven't you?”

“No choice,” Hadawa'ko said, “He wants to go out, he might as well tell us what he sees.”

There had been arguments between the siblings before. About allowing Guyasuta to leave like this. One false move, and the demon would have scored him with its power over the wind. And one more child of the Oshya:de would be gone.

“What do you think they are planning?” Otstoch said, “With all of their warriors? And the food to support them?”

“War?” Hadawa'ko said.

The Clan Mothers lapsed into silence. War, full-scale war, had not been seen on Ganá:yeht for hundreds of years, not since the Settled Peace. There had been disagreements between the clans, of course, but there were laws and rituals to circumvent open conflict.

A war of thousands was almost inconceivable to them.

“Against who?” Tekahentakwa said.

“That High Federation,” Hadawa'ko said, “They build up here, they strike their old enemy. There is not a forest they would burn, a field they would not plow, to accomplish this. I know that.”

(I feel that, though he did not say this part aloud.)

“So a rebellion would be impossible,” Tekahentakwa said.

“The opposite,” Hadawa'ko said, “We must strike at them, before they completely destroy our home.”

He gestured with his tomahawk.

“Whatever their reasons are, the guild outsiders have given us an opportunity. We can spread out, leave the caverns. We know our lands better than they do. We can disappear into the woods, strike where they are weak, and quickly, and melt back into the forest. We can make them regret choosing Ganá:yeht for their war.”

He spoke the truth. An option, though none of them liked it. Otstoch seemed to be leaning to agree with the Warleader.

Wá:ri spoke next.

“That's a goal for the future,” she said, “What we need now is the needs of the community. We need food. Water.”

She glanced at the Oshya:de around her. The bones sticking from skin. The sunken skull-like faces.

“We'll starve to death, if we keep staying here.”

***

“They need food,” Evancar said, “Before anything else, we need to make sure they have their immediate needs met.”

“Shit,” Thunderhead said, “How many people are over there?”

“A lot,” Cobalt Joe said, “There's a crowd there, but I think there's more in the caves.”

“So, thousands,” Lunus Oculus said.

Cobalt Joe nodded.

“We'd need to get an exact number,” he said, “But that's still a logistical nightmare.”

Evancar was scratching his chin. He was staring at the Oshya:de across the valley, watched as the crowd rippled and debated. They were talking amongst themselves, wondering what the next step was.

“They'll be thinking the same thing,” Nasir said, “Food and water first. They might be able to get water from the caves, in the pools, but all that we saw there for food have been those blind fish. I wouldn't be surprised if that's what they've been subsisting off of.”

“Any chance we can get more food from the fields?” Thunderhead said.

“Thousands of people,” Lunus Oculus said, “It'd be noticeable.”

“The grain we'd be moving, anything'd be noticeable,” Cobalt Joe said, and he ran his hand through his hair, noting the tender, light burn scars from his duel with Tai Haoran months ago, “Shit, anything we do will be obvious.”

“Should we tell someone?” Evancar asked, “Becenti?”

Joseph's eyes widened at his mentor's name. Becenti didn't know about this, did he?

Nor would he stand for it.

He sighed. Stood up from where he had been hunched over, started walking around to get some of the nervous energy out of his system.

“He's not gonna like this,” the metahuman said, “He was told this place wasn't inhabited.”

“How do you think he'll react?” Evancar asked, “I mean... he's... quite angry, when he wants to be.”

A memory flashed in Cobalt Joe's head. Just after the job on Nesona, when the High Federation delayed the trial against Mordenaro, despite the fact that he had killed two guildmembers and injured the rest of them. Archenround still had trouble speaking, at times.

The outrage in Becenti's eyes. The frustration. The stone cracking, and revealing nothing but rage underneath.

Joe swallowed.

“I'll tell him,” he said, “He'll be mad. But he'll be able to help.”

“How?” Evancar asked, “Let's think about this, Joe. He was invited here by Luminary herself. Do you think he'll be able to just... just walk up to the woman who forced these people here, ask her for aid?”

“No,” Joe said, “Nothing like that.”

He took a deep breath.

“But he won't stand for it,” he said, “I know that.”

“We should start organizing... something,” Lunus Oculus said, “Start letting people know the truth.”

Nasir sneered.

“You sure that's a good idea?” he said, “You let one of your Workers know the truth, then it will spread as rumor. It will come to the ears of the Council.”

“Why even let them live in the first place?” Evancar wondered, “Why not just...”

He let the thought trail off. The reality of the situation was still washing over them like waves upon the shore. Cobalt Joe was still pacing, and the nervous energy that was quickly becoming something more did not go away. Evancar's hands were fidgeting. Thunderhead kept sighing and cursing to himself. Even Nasir, who had seen much in his days as a tracker in the wasteland, was tight-lipped, his gaze still sliding to the Oshya:de, as though in disbelief that they were there at all.

It was Lunus Oculus who rose, as the full truth ran over her.

She stepped away from the group and retched up her morning's meager breakfast.

When she stepped back over, her crimson eyes were burning.

“We'll send a few of us back,” she said, “Joe and I will head back to Mt. Redress. You too, Thunderhead, we'll fly as close to the main communities as we can.”

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“Then what?” Joe asked.

“You tell Becenti,” Lunus Oculus said, and her voice was shivery, “You tell Becenti, and see what he'll do. I'll organize the Workers, start having them get food out. It shouldn't be at the refuge proper. It should be...”

She racked her brains, rubbing her temple.

“There's a small community of Workers near the Dandelion Plains,” Thunderhead said, “Amoeboy and his little group.”

“That might work,” Lunus Oculus said, “Say it's a shipment of food to them.”

“We wouldn't be able to get much without suspicion,” Thunderhead said, “There's only a couple dozen of 'em out there.”

“Evancar,” Lunus Oculus said, “Can you get an exact estimate of how many of the Oshya:de there are?”

The professor nodded.

“Joe, maybe you should come with me,” he said, “They let you back over here. They know you'll talk to them. Answer their questions.”

His guildmate nodded. Stood up. Joined the archaeologist back to the Oshya:de.

***

“You wish for us to stay?” Tekahentakwa said to Evancar, “All of us?”

The archaeologist was wringing his hands.

“In the forests around here, at the very least,” he said, “Hidden away. But thirty thousand metahumans are on New Ludaya now. Once Luminary catches wind of what we're doing here, she'll send out a survey group to investigate and, if necessary, eliminate you.”

“Then we fight back,” Hadawa'ko said, “I tell you this, we will reclaim our home.”

“You'll lose,” Cobalt Joe said, his arms crossed.

Hadawa'ko's eyes bulged, and he started to advance on Joe.

“Brother,” Tekahentakwa said, “Think.”

The other Clan Mothers were nodding. One of them, a slight woman who looked hardly eighteen named Wá:ri, spoke up.

“We are starving,” she said, “And our best warriors are gone. It would not be a battle, Warleader. It would be a slaughter.”

“You need food,” Evancar said, nodding in thanks to the woman, “We can get you some. Not a lot, but Lunus Oculus will talk to her contacts in the Worker class to have some brought up from the farmlands.”

He wrung his hands. Looked out at the crowd.

“How...” he said, and swallowed, “How many are there of you?”

Hadawa'ko tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. The other Clan Mothers looked at the archaeologist.

“We need to know,” Joe said, “So we know how much we can sneak out.”

“We cannot give an exact number,” Tekahentakwa said, “But we count twenty thousand.”

“And...” Evancar said, “How many before... you know, everything?”

Joe elbowed his guildmate. Now was not the time to bring up dark memories. Indeed, the young Clan Mother went pale in the face. Hadawa'ko sneered, glared out past the mountains. Tekahentakwa took a deep breath, controlling herself, but she could not answer.

A taller woman, Otstoch, older than the rest of them by about a decade, answered.

“Fifty-thousand,” she said, “That is what we know of. We do not count our people as you do. But that is what I assume.”

She considered the two guild outsiders.

“We should have two of our own go to this,” she said, “A united front. And so we can get a fair deal.”

“That is not a good idea,” he said, “If it is a trap, they will die.”

“If it is a trap, we all will die,” Otstoch replied, “But if they mean well, then there must be a voice from our people.”

She cast a glance at Joe and Evancar, as though she did not completely believe that they were on the Oshya:de's side. But there was little that could be done.

They needed allies.

“I will go,” Tekahentakwa said.

“You are too important,” Hadawa'ko said, “You are too-”

“I will go,” Tekahentakwa said, her voice firm, “I will speak with the Workers. If there are any who are sympathetic to us, they will listen.”

“You will need someone to protect you,” a voice said from the back. The quietest of the Clan Mothers, Degonwadonti. She was around Tekahentakwa's age, though they hadn't gotten along in the days before the woman in white's arrival.

How that had changed.

Tekahentakwa looked to Hadawa'ko.

“Who?” she said.

“It should be me,” Hadawa'ko said, “I am Warleader. I speak for the Oshya:de in regards to war.”

“This is not war, not yet,” Tekahentakwa said, “And you must organize us here, if these guild outsiders cannot keep their promises, and we must spread out into the forest.”

Hadawa'ko grimaced. Then shouted.

“Rohahes!”

A figure emerged out of the crowd. Rohahes was taller than the rest of the Oshya:de and built like a tank. The wooden cap on his head had two feathers pointing to either side, denoting him as a member of Mountain clan. His left hand was missing, reminding Joe vaguely of Broon.

“You will guard the Clan Mother,” he said, “She's going with the guild outsiders.”

“Right,” Rohahes’s voice was, perhaps, a hair higher than Joe was expecting. Rohahes had once been a relaxed individual. He still was, but there was an edge to it. The large man sauntered over, helped Tekahentakwa to her feet. But stood an arm's distance from her.

“Are you sure that's wise?” Tekahentakwa asked.

“He'll protect you,” Hadawa'ko said, “No matter what.”

She did not seem to quite believe his words, but she made no further complaint.

“Come on,” Joe said, “We should leave.”

***

Thunderhead airlifted them out. Tekahentakwa and Rohahes watched, their eyes widening, as the man transformed into the metal machine, all blades and skids and with a waterfall's roar. Cobalt Joe and Lunus Oculus stepped inside without a word. Joe turned back and offered a hand.

Rohahes took point. He grabbed Joe's hand, and the metahuman pulled him into the transformation. Tekahentakwa hesitated for a moment, before letting Joe help her in. He handed her a set of instruments, one of which he put on his head. She mimicked him, and the sounds of the monster's roar dimmed. When he spoke, it was as though he were whispering right into her ear.

“Don't worry about Thunderhead,” he said, “He'll fly us out.”

Indeed, Thunderhead was taking off. The ground, the shallow valley, the mountains that were the western refuge, began to grow smaller and smaller. Tekahentakwa glanced over to see Rohahes's nostrils flaring in shock.

“Only seen the world like this once before,” he said, “When me and my brother climbed up the northern peaks.”

“We'll stop at Amoeboy's commune first,” Lunus Oculus said, “I don't think Gallimena will think to check the place out.”

“I'm surprised that she hasn't devoted more resources to finding us,” Joe replied.

“She wants to keep the Oshya:de's existence as much of a secret as possible,” Lunus Oculus said, “If it gets out...”

She shook her head.

“What will they do?” Tekahentakwa asked.

The red-eyed metahuman looked at her, tilted her head. There was something there that the Clan Mother could not see.

“You are on our land,” Tekahentakwa said, “You have stolen it, though you did not know you were thieves. What will you do, with that realization?”

“I don't know,” Lunus Oculus said.

“The right thing to do would be to leave,” Rohahes reasoned, “Simple enough. All of these gifts, you can make your own world.”

“I… I know,” Lunus Oculus said.

“Some of you would stay on that world, of course,” Tekahentakwa said, “The very young. The very old. The Clan Mothers and their sisters. But many of you would go. Go, to fight your war with your High Federation.”

“I don't want to go to war,” Lunus Oculus said.

“Are you sure?” Tekahentakwa said, “It seems like your entire society is preparing for it.”

“It's for when the time comes,” Lunus Oculus said, “I would not call what the Federation does to us a 'war.' That implies that things are equal. They despise us. We just...”

She sighed.

“I thought, that this would be a refuge. A place of peace, where we could rebuild our communities. Heal our trauma. It is not easy to be metahuman in the multiverse.”

She looked out the window. They were passing over the old lands of Dandelion Clan, the titular flowers swaying tall as trees in the wind. It was breeding time for them, the yellow petals having fallen away for the seeds to spread, balls of white atop long stalks.

“Peace without preparation is meaningless,” Lunus Oculus said, “I believe there is no such thing as eternal peace. There is always strife. Always conflict. Always our oppressors, who want for nothing more but to exterminate us completely.”

“And that is why you prepare.”

The comment came from Rohahes. The awe from being so high had disappeared. But there was little anger in his eyes.

Lunus Oculus nodded.

“Yes,” she said, “That is what we were told. But now?”

It took her a long moment to answer. She still stared out the window.

“I don't know. I don't know what the others here on New Luda... on Ganá:yeht will think. All I know is that what has been done is not right.”

Thunderhead thrummed. His voice came on through.

“Getting near Amoeboy's,” he said, “Get ready.”

***

We should speak of Amoeboy.

Well, he was not really a 'boy' now, was he? He was a former superstar on Prime, the World of Heroes. The sidekick to the Chemist, who mixed and matched concoctions to fight crime on the streets. The Chemist had fought in the war.

The Chemist had died on his first deployment on Melmaen.

Amoeboy was in his forties now, with a short, stubby beard. He was wearing overalls and a beat up straw hat. His metahuman power was the ability to grow amoeba, as well as other microscopic creatures, to impressive sizes. He was riding atop an elephant-sized paramecium, its cilia rowing through tall grass as though it were a golden sea. A few other metahumans were toiling at the fields, using more large single-celled organisms as pack animals. Amoeboy's sunburnt, wrinkled face looked up at the arrival of Thunderhead.

“You sure they'll be safe here?” Cobalt Joe asked.

“Amoeboy's commune have been friends with us for a while,” Lunus Oculus said, “He split off from the other Workers pretty early on.”

“They allow that?” Joe asked.

“As long as they deliver their crops and come into work for specific projects,” Lunus Oculus said, “The disadvantage of living far from town is that if you can't make it to work on time, the Council will… ‘talk’ with you.”

“So everyone stays as close to Mt. Redress as possible,” Joe murmured.

“Amoeboy and his group have a metahuman, Flying Carpet, who can carry them all to Mt. Redress if they need to,” Lunus Oculus said. She stepped off of the helicopter, stretching. Rohahes and Tekahentakwa followed suit, leering at Amoeboy and his paramecium. Amoeboy was still watching them. He had a stick of hay in his mouth, Joe noted.

“I'll talk to him,” Lunus Oculus said, “You all stay here.”

She started moving through tall grass, which ran up to her waist here. A farm had been erected nearby, and fenced inside they could see a few pigs, a few cows, and more of those microscopic creatures made macroscopic.

Amoeboy slid down from his perch on his paramecium, patting its side as he spoke with Lunus Oculus. He was nodding and grunting, and did little else. Lunus did most of the talking.

Joe noticed Rohahes and Tekahentakwa staring. At Amoeboy and his tamed microorganisms. At the other metahumans, one with three heads, one that had the grass pulling towards him as though he were a plant magnet.

“Are all of your people different?” Tekahentakwa asked.

Joe nodded.

“Each of us has a different power,” he said, “Mine's different from my Nai Nai. My grandmother.”

“Nai Nai,” Rohahes whispered, and his voice was stolen by the wind. But Joe caught his meaning. He nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, “She could turn into a thunderstorm.”

Rohahes blinked at that.

“A thunderstorm?” Rohahes said, “My… My grandmother…”

He thought.

“My grandmother burped like one.”

“Rohahes!” Tekahentakwa said, and she slapped him lightly in the chest.

He guffawed, and for a moment the harshness of the world fell away. They had history, these two, and though Tekahentakwa looked cross, and Rohahes’s chuckle soon died away, they seemed just a hair more at ease.

Thunderhead started folding back into himself, twisting back into organic form. He let out a groan as he staggered towards Joe.

“Never liked flying,” he said, “It feels weird.”

Amoeboy turned to look at Rohahes and Tekahentakwa. The warrior placed himself in front of the Clan Mother.

The farmer continued speaking.

“She is telling him about us,” Tekahentakwa said.

“Aye,” Thunderhead said, crossing his arms, “I don't think he's gonna like this.”

Amoeboy was taking it well enough, Joe supposed. He glanced at the Oshya:de, pointed at them, and they heard him raise his voice, let out a few “God damn!” and other spluttered curses. He walked away from Lunus Oculus, cursing and shouting.

When he was done, he sighed. Waved at Tekahentakwa and Rohahes, and gestured for them to come forward.

Joe and Thunderhead accompanied them. A pair of metahumans, parents, were watching the proceedings with tilted heads. One of them was holding a baby swaddled up on his shelled back. So many obvious changes that came with awakening. It made Joe realize how easy he had gotten it, that all of his mutations had occurred inside of him.

Amoeboy was blind in an eye. He was also much shorter than Joe had anticipated, only five feet on a good day, and he was gnarled down from a lifetime of toil and work, for he had returned to his family farm after the war's end.

(For a time, at least.)

He sized them up. Looked at Rohahes.

“Ye lead, boy?”

Rohahes shook his head, moving to the side, in deference to Tekahentakwa. She was taller than the metahuman by a head, and a frown painted itself on her face as she lowered her gaze to him.

“Awright, girl,” Amoeboy grunted, “Yer name?”

“I am Tekahentakwa, Clan Mother of Mountain Clan and the Oshya:de.”

She tilted her head.

“You are Amoeboy.”

“Yap.”

“Tell me, what have you done to my home?”

Amoeboy grunted, looking around. The paramecium began to move off, and he patted it as it went on its way, oar hairs plodding it forward like a thousand primitive legs.

“Raised a farm up,” he said, “Set that up.”

He nodded to the building.

“We grow corn here. Wheat, too. I grow my micros.”

He hesitated.

“They took yer home away, right?”

“You did, yes,” Tekahentakwa said.

“Now, y’hear, I didn't do any o' that,” he said, “And I wouldn't've, either. If I'd known this place was made by blood, I wouldn't've come.”

Tekahentakwa looked to be unsure of what else there was to say to that. These metahumans, they were not a monolith. Indeed, Amoeboy almost looked angry for her, as he looked out among his fields.

(Then, she supposed, were the Oshya:de?)

“Now, I'll get ye as much food as I can,” Amoeboy said, “There's a few crops that we have in excess that we were gon set up in a grainhouse that ye can eat. The girl Lunus can use this place as a base for the Oshya:de.”

“I...” Tekahentakwa said, “I thank you.”

Amoeboy waved a hand.

“No need to thank,” he growled, “Never shoulda come here. Place'll rile up once folk find out.”

He looked at Lunus Oculus.

“Ye ready for that?”

The crimson-eyed metahuman grimaced.

“No choice,” she said, “One way or another, the truth will come out. And I'd rather it come out than for us to live in ignorance.”

“Even if it means we gotta leave?” Amoeboy said, “We got a good thing goin' on here. Folks have a home. Some of 'em have never had that before.”

“It's a home made by bloodshed,” Lunus Oculus said.

“Most homes are,” Amoeboy replied.

“That does not make it right,” Lunus countered. Her eyes were hard and her voice was set. And this was what Amoeboy seemed to be looking for, as he nodded.

“'S long as yer sure,” he said, “I never thought Luminary was all that, anyway. Somethin' wasn't right about her.”

He rolled his shoulders.

“Best ye hide these Oshya:de folks,” he said, “Warriors have been rangin' 'round these parts, these last couple o' days. I think they're trying to keep an eye on us.”

Lunus Oculus exchanged a look with Cobalt Joe and Thunderhead.

“The farm'll do,” Amoeboy said, “Y'all can stay here for the night.”