Tuya inhaled, as Zaya taught her in those trees just on the far end of the meadow many seasons ago. She held the breath, letting it soothe the frantic girl within, the one who worried that some flaw in the plan would make itself known now that everything appeared to have gone as perfectly as she could have imagined. She exhaled, and tossed the spear to the side, leaving it beside the broken remains of Tokhun, his mind venturing into the Hollows, fleeing far, far from the one he could not dominate.

Normally, she would do this many times, breathe like Zaya, until she felt as comfortable as she did in Zaya’s arms as a child. Instead, the smile on Masarga’s face stole her breath. The little girl born of the Hollows, with the pale skin and dark hair of Celegana’s children, rushed her, bombarding her with elation before crashing into her with her growing arms. Tuya closed the embrace, laughing, intoxicated by the mental and physical touch of her favorite person in the world. I love you.

“I love you too,” Masarga said, loud enough that the other women could hear it as they circled around them, forming a ring within the ring of trees surrounding the meadow. Masarga clung to her, and Tuya’s tears were no longer for joy alone. “You belong to yourself now, Tuya. You did it.”

Tuya squeezed, never wanting to let go, not wanting to leave Masarga in the Hollows without her.

“But you must,” Masarga whispered, breaking Tuya’s heart with her stifled sobs. “You must, Tuya.” Masarga buried her head into Tuya’s side. “They are out there waiting for you, those farawaylanders who will help us fight the chimaeras. I will wait for you. I will stay strong. I promise.”

Tuya wished she could stop her quaking, stop her crying, nearly as well as Masarga was. I cannot leave you here alone.

Masarga sniffled, lifted her head, her pretty amber eyes full of restrained tears, full of hope, full of more strength than Tuya could remember ever having. “I am not alone.” She pulled Tuya toward the ring of women. Among them were girls so young they still needed to feed on one of the older one’s breast, most were unblooded ones, like Masarga herself, but there were plenty who were full women, and one old woman among them, watching Tuya with her proud Mahagan eyes.

You are not alone, Tuya realized.

Not anymore. Not since you opened my mind, Tuya. Now, I will never be alone again. I will wait for you, but I will not wait alone.

Tuya wiped at her eyes, as Masarga pulled her into the circle. One hand in Masarga’s, the other held to little Nara, a girl probably with less than sixteen seasons, barely taller than some of the grass and flowers in the meadow. The other women did the same, linking hands until about a hundred women were gathered in the meadow, unified, a community of love and compassion. This is how it should be.

How it is, Masarga projected.

Yes. “We have been alone too long,” Tuya said, her voice heavy, choking on her emotions already. “Feel the hand of the woman beside you.” Tuya studied the circle, noting how fingers tightened around hands. “Feel the hand of your sisters, of your daughters, of your mothers.” Celegana’s blessings, she felt Masarga’s hand in hers, little Nara’s tiny fingers grasping at her palm, felt her own fingers together with theirs. “Feel the hand of those who will love you even when you feel hated, who will believe in you even when you struggle to believe in yourself. Look into their eyes.” All around the ring, a hundred women, girls trained from birth to never make eye contact, to always stay distant, to let nobody in, broke tradition. Tuya’s eyes glazed over with emotion, smiling back at little Nara’s cute smile. A hundred women with eyes on eyes, hands in hands, minds touching together, sharing this feeling of togetherness. It seemed that Nara’s smile spread through them for soon each woman wore one of her own, each of them beautiful in their own wonderful way.

“Remember,” Tuya said, “You are together whenever your hands can touch or where your eyes can see. You are together whenever your minds can connect. Sometimes, we will need to let go,” Tuya gripped Masarga’s hand, squeezing as hard as she could without hurting her, “even when we most want to hold on.” Tuya sniffled. “But even when we separate, we are still together. We are not alone anymore. We never will be again.”

“Remember,” Tuya said, “I love all of you. I believe in each of you. You are among the strongest people this world has ever known. Yes,” she affirmed as many looked down with doubt, “to be standing here today when the world has done everything to knock you down. You are strong. You are worthy. You are you,” Tuya croaked, “and that is all you ever need to be.”

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Tuya inhaled, trying to recover her flailing voice, she looked among the flowers, gazing at Sarnai’s red swirlythorns and seeing the same beauty her best friend had years ago. “Each of you are as beautiful as these flowers, growing in this land fouled by tamer hatred. There will be seasons of withering, when it seems no light shines and darkness consumes all hope. But, even in that darkness, you will continue to endure together. Remember to never give up on each other. Remember that when one of us falls, it will be our love that lifts us all back up, that makes our pain smaller.”

Masarga and Nara squeezed Tuya’s hands, making her pain smaller. Each woman watched her, waiting on her words. They all looked so alike and so different in so many ways. Each of them had her own story unlike any other and exactly like every other. Tuya wished she could memorize them all, never leave them at all, but she needed to remember herself, remember that she would still be with them after they left. The way Zaya, the way Sarnai, the way Yaha, and, yes, the way Masarga would always be together with her. Yet, for all that, Tuya hoped she would meet them all again someday, whether in the Hollows after the fighting was done, or in another life, whether as a part of Celegana, or in some other Paradise beyond the mortal vale.

We will see each other again, Tuya, Masarga projected, squeezing her hand. I will keep us together. The seed will keep growing until it can stand as tall as the Spire. I will make you proud.

You already do, Tuya transmitted to her, inspired by her. “We do not belong to the tamers,” Tuya told the women, whether wilders or farawaylanders brought here. “Each of us belongs to herself. We are so much stronger than they tell us we are. They hurt us and push us down because they are afraid of what we can do if we link together. They call us khorota and tell us we are worthless because they are afraid of how worthy we are! The Tamers are afraid! They fear we who grow life and make it more of itself! We who restore harmony and defy domination! We who use our love to make pain smaller! We who will claim ourselves! We, the Wilders!”

The circle of women, of wilders, chanted, a hundred voices starting in discord, harmonizing into a steady chant. “We, the Wilders! We, the Wilders! We, the Wilders!”

The energy was unlike anything Tuya ever felt. She smiled. She cried. She laughed and she sighed. They were not alone, they would still have what she gave them, they would be together. Even so, even though she must, she hated to leave them when they were together at last. It felt like one of Yaha’s stories where it ended right when it got good. After coming so far, through so much, it felt so wrong that this was the end of her time with the Wilders, with one hundred women exactly like each other and unlike any other.

Even Masarga’s mind, sensing the end, tried to quiet her sadness. She refused to transmit the thought but her feelings spoke it clear to Tuya. At the end, Masarga did not want to be without her Zaya, her mother. Tuya lingered, contemplating if she could stay and find a way to defeat chimaeras or if she could take Masarga with her. This same contemplation that repeatedly led to the same conclusion for the past season each time it was contemplated. Still, she contemplated again, unable to accept letting go, unwilling to do to Masarga what Zaya did to her.

You must go, Masarga projected, not feeling it quite so strong as she had just before they formed the circle, and I must stay. Just as your Zaya left and you remained. She gave you what you needed, just as you gave me what I need. Masarga’s eyes went out to the little girls in the circle, honing in on little Nara just beside them. Just as she will need me and her children will need her.

Tuya thought of the pain of losing Zaya, of knowing that she had the choice not to do the same.

And how did you endure that, Tuya?

Sarnai’s face, cries in the rain sniffing Paintaker, smiles in a Hollow shaping furs as they practiced linking together, pain made smaller, love.

Masarga sent images of her own. Images of six girls around a fire. Her eyes found Enkhti, Berude, Seruun, and Ibakha. I am far less alone than you were. She set her crying amber eyes back onto Nara as the Wilders, Nara among them, continued to chant. She will be even less alone, but she and her children and her children and onward will always be in pain as long as the chimaeras make us hurt. Only you can stop them, mother. Only you and only if you go.

No. We can find—

“Listen!” Masarga howled, her voice stifling Tuya’s thought. The chanting lulled and soon all that they could hear was the wind blowing from the sea. Masarga gripped Tuya’s hand. “Tuya must leave to find friends who can fight the chimaeras with her. While she is gone, she will still be with us, and we will not just wait for her. We will spread our seed across the Hollows, linking with the many, many of us still alone in the other regions! We are a drop in the good flowing water now, but soon we will be the whole flowing water itself! When Tuya returns, it will be us who help her wash away the Tamers! We, the Wilders!”

“We, the Wilders! We, the Wilders! We, the Wilders!” they chanted.

Accept it, mother, Masarga transmitted, infusing Celegana’s strength into the link and where their hands met, making pain smaller and making Tuya more of herself.

“If I must,” Tuya said, wishing it were not so, but knowing that it was.

You must, Masarga projected. We will spread to the other regions. We will do our best to blend in, to grow, and to be ready for you when you come home to us.

Tuya threaded her fingers through Masarga’s. “I will come back for you. I promise.”