The swarm couldn’t move as swiftly and unimpeded as before, now that we numbered nearly two thousand and our herds several thousand more. What once would have been the journey of a single hour or two stretched into days, and as I waited for the axebeaks, oryx, oxfiends, and hyenas. Though we experimented various paths and attempts, [Fanatic’s Fortitude] couldn’t keep all the swarm and herds alive, even with the addition of several khatif who had begun to Speak the Words of Power. Thus, a large part of each day was slowed and stopped by oxfiends feeding, the wolfstags and hyenas’ hunts, and the grazing of everything else.

With each step we took, thousands of footprints destroyed whatever grasses weren’t chewed down to nothing, and though I continued to force the keelish to feed only once a day, and that only to satiety instead of complete fullness, our herds’ numbers notably fell. Hunting expeditions were formed, and Took led them in an attempt to reduce the immediately noticeable signs of our presence. Keeping the whole of the herds watered was especially a struggle, even though all of us were used to and acclimated to reduced water intake. After three days without finding a river, stream, or even a puddle, the Wave Wolfstags spent several hours conjuring water until each dropped in exhaustion.

Even with every difficulty and mundane stumbling block attempting to keep us from reaching that which would be our home, we pressed on. Those of the herds too weak to continue on the journey were the first to be eaten, and the keelish unwilling to strive to grow received only one chance to improve. The male who I’d introduced to Vefir and had been named Sakkit, rose as the golden standard of the keelish who worked to change and grow. He openly and frequently spoke about his previous reticence and willingness to be mediocre, that his egoism and false beliefs had driven him to thinking he deserved leadership for his seniority. How I had torn those beliefs away, and forced him to recognize that his strength would allow him to find where he belonged. Finally, he was my strongest, most available advocate for those struggling to find what to do and where to grow. Again and again, Sakkit told a keelish that they should seek me out and ask for honest advice.

Interestingly, I felt more and more to guide those who approached me towards more mundane assignments: helping Joral manage the herds, assisting Sybil’s assistants with organization, caring for the wounded whose injuries were stabilized but fully healing them wasn’t worth it at the moment. When I, more confused than the keelish I was talking to, suggested that she learn how to raise this same grass somewhere else, I felt I’d lost my mind entirely. Even so, the swarm grew in cohesion and strength from day to day.

Twelve days into our journey in the Inkulu’s territory, a faint purple colored the horizon, and I thought of the mountains I’d so quickly fallen in love with. I was torn from my musings by the sounds of combat.

“You’re fangless! You couldn’t catch me if I had two broken legs!”

“She’s a lot like Wisterl sometimes, isn’t she?”

Trai taunted several of the young from the other swarms, dancing around them as they trained their coordination and attacks. Foire and I watched, shouting suggestions as the little ones floundered and struggled to get near her.

“Yes.” Foire allowed. “But she looks just like Treel. Moves like her too.”

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“Can’t say I paid too much attention.”

“She was beautiful.” Foire’s voice was wistful, loving, but no longer bitter until he continued, “She doesn’t know her.”

“I’m sorry.”

Foire’s tail flicked, and that same bitterness grew. “I don’t want to treat those from that ‘Veratocracy’,” He spat the word like a curse, “like we treat the indlovu. The indlovu are people. The Moonchildren are foes, but the humans… They are enemies. My enemies.” Foire looked up at me and met my eyes for a moment.

“They are mad.” I agreed. “Every other people seems to see them nearly as negatively as they see us.”

“The humans may be mad,” Foire allowed, “But we are merely dangerous. Dangerous when we are still new. As you establish us more as a people, we will grow to stand above them all.”

“Victory.” I replied.

“Victory by fang and blood.” Foire echoed. As he strode away to speak with Silf, who had just returned, a nearby keelish whose gaze I’d long felt approached.

“Alpha. Lord.”

“Alpha or Ashlani.” I corrected. “Thank you for not interrupting.”

“Yes, Alpha. I will… respect.”

“”Now, speak.”

“I want to… be strong. Please help… me.”

I looked over him, the guidance of [Evolutionary Exemplar] filling me. His path was immediately obvious to me, though I was surprised at where he was meant to go. Even so, I couldn’t help but grin widely at his obvious faith in my omnipotence or merely my strength. “You must join Brutus. He and Ytte always need more–”

“Alpha.” Foire interrupted, his tone brisk and worried. “Forgive the interruption. They’re coming, and as the Chieftain Lukusu suggested, they are different.”

“He’s there. Follow him.” I commanded the quiet, concerned keelish as I pointed at Brutus. He jogged towards the huge male, but Brutus commanded him again, “Follow” as he ran to follow me. The much smaller male whose name I didn’t know had to sprint to follow in Brutus’s steps, but he did so without complaint. I followed Foire, then Silf’s steps, calling out to any member of my elites I saw en route. Our steps thundered and filled the air, but nothing pounded so quickly and loudly as my own heart. I suspected I knew what I would see once I neared the approaching indlovu, but even so, I needed to use my own eyes.

Even before I saw the individuals, though, I saw something that made my blood run cold. A plume of dust followed the indlovu, and since even the huge hunters felt it necessary to hide their approach, then these ones were sure to be more impressive, dangerous, and deadly than the hunters, and that by far. They carried something extraordinarily large behind them, a large tent, perhaps. It didn’t ripple in the wind, though, so perhaps a stupidly large palanquin?

Then, [Raptor’s Eyes] forced me to admit it, to stop lying to myself. This wasn’t some man-made structure, nor was it a large empty thing. The hill I saw was familiar, though I’d only seen it once. When I’d seen it before, it was impressive, frightening, and massive. Now, though, it was awe-inspiring, terrifying, and so large I couldn’t believe it was alive.

Despite my disbelief and my unwillingness to accept reality, though, it took another step, its legs carrying it forward while the earth under its feet shifted to lengthen every stride. It passed by another hill, and I couldn’t say if it was due to hunger, anger, or boredom, but with a surprisingly quick snap of its jaws, the hill disappeared.

Before, when the High Speakers had arrived upon the back of a tortoise, I’d called it massive. That would be an insult to whatever it was that accompanied the Inkulu’s soldiers to battle against us.