She hit her body hard enough to drive the breath from her chest. Lilau writhed on the ground, eyes watering, bones aching from the impact. She tasted blood.

Lilau!

Her name echoed strangely, one within, one without, as arms wrapped around her and warm fur pressed against her back.

“Come on, breathe!”

She tried, fought her restraints, and tried again. Blessed air rushed in. Lilau went limp, savoring the life rising and falling in her chest as her surroundings came into focus.

Desert stretched out in front of her, yet she leaned against something warm. Something not Makotae.

Lilau pushed away, and came face-to-face with Radai, his expression twisted with fear and worry.

Makotae shoved his head between them, forcing Lilau to scramble back as the Great Wolf covered Lilau’s face in wolf spit. I told you Animal Sight was a terrible idea.

Her hands flew up, trying in vain to shield herself from Makotae’s flapping tongue. Lilau had no strength to argue. Her bones still ached, her chest still burned. The destruction she’d wrought with Simurtahl bathed her in equal parts relief and fear. She looked back at the City as Makotae slowed his licks.

A cloud of dust covered most of the City, the fighting having kicked up the dry soil. Patches of fire, burning as unnaturally as the Fokla it came from, shone in the dust, adding acrid, black smoke to the mix.

Yells still echoed within its walls. Lilau hoped her power had given the camps what they needed. It was all she could give. She reached her arms around Makotae’s neck and pulled him to the ground. She curled against him as numbness smothered her pain.

*****

Fortunately for them all, the Fokla-in-physical form had torn apart enough of the City’s defenses to let the outcasts accomplish their goal.

The essence-draining towers were in ruins, leaving the City unshielded and vulnerable. The metal heart in the center lay flayed open, the slaves armed, and many fled. In the end, the City’s numbers proved too much even after the rampage of the two Fokla, and the camps were forced to retreat before the City truly fell, but the damage had been done. What people still huddled within the shattered walls, what slaves hadn’t been freed, were living in a dying age. Their time would come.

At least, that was the hope Lilau held on to as she raced across the desert on Makotae, her Spirit Sight illuminating a group of five in the distance.

These five, unlike the people she’d grown accustomed to seeing, glowed in swirling rainbows like captured Sky-Rivers. This, she learned, was a hallmark of the Spirit Tribe.

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Slaves no more, yet without homes or means of survival, they required the help of the camps to relearn how to live on their own. That was a task Lilau gladly left to others. Her task was to collect the lost Spirit Tribe members, scattered across the desert after fleeing the City, and bring them to nearby camps.

With each new group, the camps’ numbers swelled, forcing them to settle in the most hospitable places they could find. Many complained about it. She understood. The City was a dying beast, and nothing was more dangerous. A rooted camp became easy prey for such a creature. The City hadn’t lashed out yet, but it was only a matter of time.

The Spirit Tribe group caught sight of her and waved. Lilau frowned. Having strangers greet her like an old friend felt like a trick, yet each one did. They saw in her what she saw in them—the telltale signs of Spirit Tribe. Or so they said. Her body stayed inert in her sight, so all she had were the words of strangers.

Lilau had avoided the idea ever since Radai had mentioned it many moons ago. Now that others had confirmed it, it only brought confusion. What was she to do with the knowledge she’d been birthed, abandoned, by the enslaved tribe? Should she be glad for avoiding slavery in the City, or accepting of the idea she was worthy of the oppression of others, having been abandoned by slaves?

The Spirit Tribe group grinned as she approached, oblivious to her inner turmoil. Kept in cages in the City, used only to channel essence from the towers, the five wore nothing more than threadbare pants and a cloth shirt. Underclothes, by Cat Tribe standards.

Their red and leathery skin, burned from the sun and proof of its prior paleness, clashed with their gold hair and light eyes. Two thin adults, a man and a woman, and three thinner, smaller children. A family, perhaps.

“I am Lilau Noka, of the Silent Hunter camp,” Lilau said in Cat Tribe tongue as Makotae stopped in front of the group.

The youngest, half the size of Lilau, gasped and made a run for Makotae, arms outstretched. The woman held him back.

“We are blessed,” the man said in a rough voice. He kneeled, bowing his head to the sand. The rest followed.

Lilau grimaced as nausea rose. Of all people, they shouldn’t be bowing to her. “Get up,” she said, her tone sharper than intended. “The Great Cats will be here soon.”

Two are hunting nearby. They’ll be here in a moment, Makotae told her.

The family scrabbled to their feet, each movement bringing grunts of pain. Their cracked lips showed signs of bleeding.

Lilau sighed. She pulled a bulging water bag from Makotae’s saddle, and slid off, holding out the water to the refugees. “Drink.”

The youngest, will not yet broken, lunged for it, snatching it from Lilau’s hand and greedily gulping down its contents. An older child glanced at his parents, who motioned for him to go on.

This one, nearly the same size as Lilau, looked her in the eye, clasping his hands around hers. “Rae-tarri.”

May you be blessed. The Spirit Tribe’s way of thanking.

Lilau pulled her hand back, gritting her teeth. As much as she wanted, needed, to help these people, being around a flood of strangers had worn down her defenses. She wished for her small camp, for Macien and Radai, but that wasn’t possible. They all had their role to play, and she was done abandoning those in need.

The arrival of the two Great Cats broke the awkwardness of Lilau watching five strangers gulp water.

After draining two more waterskins, four of the family climbed atop the cats. The fifth, the little boy, giggled as Lilau picked him up and tied him to the saddle with leather strips. He leaned over and grabbed a tuft of black fur on Makotae’s flank. Makotae’s ears swiveled back.

“Sit up,” Lilau said, Makotae’s discomfort amplifying her own. “Or you’ll fall off and get dragged to camp.”

The boy’s eyes went wide as he straightened up. Little hands clasped onto Lilau’s robes.

Lilau sighed and urged Makotae on.