The village I was approaching had been present for almost fifteen years now. That was quite a while.

Villages are intended to be abandoned and reconstructed elsewhere when the territories of large predators shift. It was also not uncommon for something to attack a village without warning.

That migratory mentality was clear as I came into view. The lower village was constructed on posts driven deep into the silt. With the posts as foundations small huts and connecting platforms made a little island above the murky water.

Tree huts and hanging platforms filled the space above. They more than tripled the overall area of the village.

It was all well crafted and sturdy enough. However, nothing was meant to last more than a year without significant repairs.

I let my foot touch down on a branch affixing the end of a rope bridge. It was one of the farthest reaching structures in the village, existing solely as an easy lookout.

My extra limbs retracted and unmade themselves. From my vantage, I could see activity on the platforms below.

I did not wholly understand the reasons behind many of the customs that cropped up over the centuries. That did not mean I was not perfectly aware how most of them started.

The lore keepers had gradually developed as a sort of teacher position. They were vital for keeping knowledge that was not actively used.

Gam, like most creatures in the moors, had no natural lifespan. We would never age past adulthood or suffer illness or maiming.

Most still died to one of the moors’ many hazards in time. That was faster for hunters. The most reckless often died within decades.

Those who chose to stay near a village and occupy their time with less dangerous things usually made it past a century. They could still fall to an attack on their village or the danger of relocating.

I knew a few of those from the early days had not yet returned to me. Their cultivation had far outpaced my own.

Their essence networks gave them flesh tougher than a tarrasque’s hide and strength that could uproot ancient trees with a single blow. They were not immortals, but I doubted many of them would join me any time soon.

No, few of the lore keepers were anywhere near that old. Still, most were over a hundred.

Lore keepers had such reliable lifespans because they kept the knowledge that could not be reasonably left to active hunters, healers or crafters teaching their students.

They also directed celebrations and rituals. For all intents and purposes, they lead the gam.

The feast I was now looking down on had been invented by a lore keeper two hundred years ago. It was originally a festival to help raise spirits when their village had to split after growing too large.

Over the years, it had become a celebration for any time part of the village was going to leave for an extended period. It now served as a way to mix the sadness of a departure with the celebration of a new journey.

Greetings came from passing gam hanging around in the upper village. I greeted back those I recognized and a few I did not.

It had been longer than I realized since I visited this specific village. Many faces were familiar, but I doubted others had even been lain last time I was here.

We had originally bred as quickly as we could manage. That was exceptionally quickly.

Our bodies had an unfertilized egg inside them at all times. It would be replaced by the time we finished laying it.

Without regard for conservation of mass, we could make a functionally limitless number of offspring. Three months after being lain, those fertilized eggs would hatch already knowing how to speak and function to a degree.

We did not even have to limit our population itself. There was vast unused space in the moors, and gam did not require any form of sustenance.

No, the issue was a limit in parenting. Villages parented collectively. In most cases, it was not even tracked or known whose egg any given hatchling had come from.

Most gam were happy to contribute to shaping the hatchlings into well adjusted adults. The problem was that worked best when there were only a few hatchlings.

Back when we let every egg hatch, there were so many hatchlings that there was no way for the outnumbered adults to mentor them. The result I could only describe as cultural rot.

Hatchlings had language and some implicit knowledge. What they lacked was a strong sense of self and understanding of positive behavior for themselves and others.

Without the ability to imprint behavior from those who had already learned such things, they turned to other hatchlings. That created a self destructive cycle that generally sucked for everyone.

There had been a few brief attempts to discourage sex. That had quickly proven ineffective.

Now, gam had as much sex as they wanted. We just broke the eggs before they could develop.

An egg shell was about as thick as my smallest finger when lain. That would thin as they neared hatching. It took a rock to smash or file the shell, making them an inexhaustible material for crafting.

A village would only have about half a dozen hatchlings at a time. That number may increase if the village suffers casualties.

I noticed a gam I recognized below. They sat in a calmer part of the crowd, sipping at a cup alongside a few others.

They participated in the conversation, part of the pleasant afterglow of the party proper. Yet, a sense of absence from their surroundings came through in their posture and faded expression.

I did not recognize them from the last time I had visited this village. No, I recognized them from the dreams of the gam who recently came back to me.

I carefully wove essence around myself, taking the time to do it correctly. Then, I stepped off of the platform and fell the twenty feet to the lower village.

My body failed to gain momentum as the spell inhibited it. I ended up landing lightly on the platform holding the village above the water.

It was a useful trick, letting me fall any distance and land as if stepping down a stair. Too bad it took at least thirty seconds to prepare and gave me no way to ascend again. Still, I was glad to have developed it.

A few gam took note of my unusual arrival. They were likely interested because caster’s who specialized in anything other than healing were uncommon. In truth, I had not specialized outside healing. I had not specialized at all.

The pattern for casting was both deceptively simple in its design and complex in its usage. It was a pattern for making customized temporary essence patterns.

Every gam hatched with essence inside their body. It held them together and let them grow and heal. It was only when they started shaping that essence with their will that it could do more.

Using that will, a gam could form a complex loop of essence called an essence spiral. From that, they could construct and fuel patterns.

Designing a new essence pattern took skill, effort and time in great quantities to make anything worthwhile. However, learning one from someone else was just a matter of how much essence you could control and the finesse of that control.

That really was the limiting factor. It was easy to make as much essence as you could use.

Most gam bled the stuff off in great clouds. It was at the point that areas we inhabit had a thick ambient fog of essence only visible to essence sight.

No, the limit on a gam’s power was how well they could manipulate essence. You can only construct as many patterns in your essence network as your will allows.

The casting pattern was a sort of work around for that limit. Patterns take time and concentration to form. They take even more to alter.

The casting pattern was something we developed to get around that by letting a gam form disposable essence patterns. They could be constructed with their own spiral and sent out to perform a task.

Forming it took about half the capacity an average gam started with. Of course, capacity with essence increased with use and experience.

The casting pattern was great for me because my extensive knowledge of essence could be leveraged through it. I only had the essence capacity expected of a century old gam.

That was very useful. It just was not what I should have for being over six times that age.

I stopped near the group I had seen from above. The gam whose mate recently returned to me did not seem to notice my presence.

That did not apply to Dreel. Dreel was the lore keeper I was, sort of, here to see. They were also a bit…

“Elder Sheth!” The cry of shocked delight rang through the otherwise quite corner.

Dreel popped to their feet. “Dreel, good to see you again.” They seemed to vibrate with an energy utterly ill fit to the somber air.

“Same, same…” They grabbed my hand and started shaking it with enthusiasm. I was not even sure where they got the gesture.

Shaking hands was a custom of some of the outlanders. Those trained to negotiate with them often used it to greet those specific groups.

At some point Dreel, and only Dreel, had fixated on the gesture as the next big thing. I had to admit the gam lacked a unified custom of physical greeting.

It was not unreasonable to adopt one. However, Dreel had been going at it with the level of… let’s say delight they put towards everything they did.

“I am so glad you made it for the festivities. I was worried when you weren’t here at the start, or the middle. But I just knew, knew you couldn’t resist the end. Everyone, this is Sheth!” They pulled to the side as if revealing me to the three sitting before us.

“I would introduce myself, but Dreel seems to have covered that.” I added. Dreel laughed and the little circle made their own more placating version, save for one.

I turned a more serious gaze to the reason I was actually here. “I noticed your not entirely healed, could I be of any help.” The quiet gam with a partially healed slash at their side looked surprised I addressed them.

“I… yes, thank you.” They added nothing else, and I did not seek more.

I never knew how to help in this situation. I knew what had happened. I always knew.

Yet, having knowledge of who had died and how that person felt about those left behind did not mean they knew me. I only know what it is like to be in their shoes.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

Without exchanging any words, I crouched down and placed my hands near the wound. I wove my essence into the injury and began assessing the damage.

I was not a healer. I was what a healer started as.

Healers were the most common casters. They started by forming the pattern for casting. That was because healing worked best if it could be easily adapted to the problem.

They became true healers after forming patterns to help them automatically repair tissue. That let them still guide the progress, but have automated systems to help.

I had similar systems. The difference was mine were set up to improve my ability to process anything I was shaping from essence.

In other words, I was better at anything I did with casting. It also did not go as far as support made to perform one task.

I relied on the fact I understood a gam’s anatomy perfectly to be an effective healer. That anatomy being my own.

The slash was healed as far as sealing the sides together. Neither the skin or severed muscles below had been reattached on a cellular level.

Any movement from those muscles would either not be possible or cause more damage. That would leave them mostly stationary for at least a week, unless a healer put more time into fixing the underlying damage.

I used the knowledge of my own body to replace the damaged cells with flawless imitations of mine. Luckily, all gam were pretty anatomically similar to me. The reason behind that should be self evident.

I pulled my hands away. “You can move freely now.” I stepped back.

“Thank you.” It was not loud, and was just the slightest bit hollow. I nodded in response.

Laying a hand on Dreel’s shoulder, I turned them away. “I have things to discuss with Dreel here, so I am afraid we must leave you to enjoy the festivities.” I pulled Dreel off.

I did actually need them. However, it could have waited. I got the sense removing them would be the best for everyone.

The mourning mate had what appeared to be their friends by them and was not hiding away. That was the best thing at this point.

Dreel leaned in towards me as I led them away. “Thanks for healing Orthis. They just lost their partner last night. They are still so young, and you know how it is. I was trying to cheer them up…” I decided I should interrupt before they just kept going.

“Yes, I know. You were trying quite admirably. I’m sorry I have to take you away.” I was not. However, there was no reason to be honest about it.

“No, I should be apologizing for being unavailable. We had an appointment, and here I am. I really am a sucker for these things. You know I am not really supposed to be helping with this? I just cannot resist checking Prap’s work. It’s not that I don’t trust their skill. It’s just so hard to break the habit…” I listened to Dreel’s laments about handing power over to their apprentice.

Occasionally, I gave a nod or generic confirmative phrase to let them know they were being heard. They did not really want me to add anything of note.

Dreel was always like this at the start of any meeting. It was not a very productive habit. However, I did not really mind listening to all their personal thoughts.

Oddly, the trait had proven useful when negotiating with the outlanders. It had taken me a while to figure out why.

The alma, the outlanders own name for themselves, were almost unanimously uncomfortable around us. It was quite obvious for the guards and anyone else who was not meant to talk with us.

The only members of their expedition who hid it well were the traders charged with negotiating. Even the traders were nervous, they just did a good job suppressing it.

I had eventually realized that Dreel’s fifteen or more minutes of rambling about their day to day life and thoughts on it was impossible to remain nervous through. It was just too inane.

The alma would sit down acting like we were about to skin them alive. By the time Dreel had let real negotiations start, they would have completely forgotten to be afraid.

Exasperated, very possible. But, not afraid. And not having our trade partner afraid of us was helpful. It became much easier to negotiate when we were simply other people.

Dreel snatched a jar from the row at the village center when we passed. All the while, they continued to inform me how various people I did not know had been doing.

We slipped into a hut and I took a seat on a reed mat. Dreel filled two cups from the jar, and I accepted one.

The cup was crafted from an egg shell. The top had been ground away to let it serve as a cup and bottom flattened just enough to stay upright.

Like most reused items, ornate patterns had been etched onto the outside. That was the inevitable product of crafters having more free time than they could reasonably use.

Gam had no need to do anything to survive. As long as we avoided hazards, we would just continue existing.

In theory, a village could maximize their survival by hiding inside and only taking actions to insure their village was safe. They did not have to hunt or forage and endanger themselves.

That was rational. But, rare was the person who could sit in a hut doing nothing for years on end.

Some would invent games and lead the villagers in activities and gatherings to entertain everyone. They would become lore keepers.

Others would refine their casting and learn how to heal injuries with increasing skill. They would become healers.

Still others would develop a passion for turning raw materials into useful or artistic items. They would become crafters.

Many would even turn to the excitement and thrills of traveling far from their village to collect resources. They would become hunters.

I took a sip from the cup. The taste of those hunters’ success bloomed across my tongue.

Blood was an excellent example of something we had no reason to do and did anyway. The gam got no material benefit from drinking blood.

Instead, it was entirely recreational. That was demonstrated as a warm sensation passed down my throat and spread into my body.

The liquid simply dead ended in a small pouch within my chest. From there it rapidly vanished into nothing without any true effect.

Our bodies did not as much digest blood as destroy it. I had no idea why.

It was not like we needed it for anything. Yet, it was enjoyable to drink.

“I assume the party is already prepared to set out?” I asked Dreel, once the report of everything going on around them had wained.

“Oh yes, completely. We have eight this time, with your addition. Three of our best defensive hunters. A tracker. Me and another negotiator.” I leaned back with an eyebrow raised at the math.

“That is only six. With me seven. Who is the eighth?” Dreel reacted to my question as if they had not noticed.

“Kirs is coming too. They slipped my mind.” I raised an eyebrow at that.

“What skills do they have?” It was not out of the question for someone without a needed skill to come on an expedition.

It might be to gain useful experience or for personal curiosity. That was sort of what I was doing. I was coming along for learning purposes.

“For this, carrying bags. Kirs changes paths often. Right now, they are more of a pet keeper than anything.” That was interesting.

Changing focus was not that uncommon. Many started with one skill that they spent some or part of their time on.

Healers drifted into crafters. Hunters decided to live more cautiously and become lore keepers.

And some never really settled on any skill. They would either jump from skillset to skillset or focus on multiple at a time.

“Pet keeper? Have they been training the wildlife to do their bidding?” My tone was amused, but it was possible.

I had seen a few gam over the years who managed to train some of the moors non-sapient inhabitants. They usually achieved it by capturing more impressionable species as infants and raising them.

The urser also trained a species of bat in a similar way. The species normally hunted in familial units, with the offspring deferring to their parents. That made the species susceptible to imprinting whatever raised them as a superior.

Urser were the native sapient inhabitants of the moors. They had been here before us and were an occasional source of knowledge in our early days.

An urser stood at three times the hight of a gam and resembled a bipedal bear. Despite their size, they could hide within the moors to the degree that most gam would never see one.

They were not actively hostile to us. However, their society was ancient, secretive and insular.

Their main population refused to interact with the gam. The only contact we had was with their mavericks.

I doubted Kirs had learned training methods from the urser. Training in general was just too impractical to have ever caught on, even as a hobby.

“Oh, no. Pet keeping is more of a joke. Is that even possible?” Dreel seemed surprised at my miss interpretation.

“Yes, if rarely worth it. I am not sure I get the joke.” I had a hunch Dreel was just forgetting I had never met Kirs.

“It’s because they take their pet ve with them everywhere.” That made a bit more sense.

Ve were an odd, if infrequent, part if gam ecology. By the time a gam reached sexual maturity and developed a fertile egg inside them, it would normally end up fertilized before long.

With our naturally high sex drives and ability to fertilize ourselves, it was unlikely one of us would go more than a few days without laying a fertilized egg. It might be from mating or on our own. Either way, a fertilized egg would be produced and replaced by our body.

A lot of gam never even realized that there was a repercussion to not laying. If an egg stayed inside for a month without being lain, it would be involuntarily lain unfertilized.

It was also possible to voluntarily lay an unfertilized egg. It was just a matter of consciously moving the muscles that started the process and the body would take over to finish it.

Sometimes a young gam would not be told how their maturing body worked. If they did not figure it out, they would end up laying an unfertilized egg each month.

There were also gam who lay unfertilized eggs as a quicker alternative to fertilization. The orgasm from it was not as drastic as a fertilized one, but the whole process took less than thirty seconds from start to finish.

It was still enough to clear the mind of stress and improve focus afterwards. That made it a habit some used in place of the longer process of fertilizing themselves.

That said, unfertilized eggs did not come about that often. If they did, and were given a month to gestate, they would hatch into a ve.

Ve were serpent like creatures that looked like smaller gam tails. They had no orifices or sensory organs and functioned without the need for either.

I was pretty sure I had looked like a ve prior to merging with Gæri The’s body. Even so, ve showed no sign of sapience or higher reasoning.

Ve had no interest in most creatures and were very affectionate towards gam. If left in the wild, they would roam freely and hide upon detecting a non-gam.

They were very uncommon do to being incredibly weak and not reproducing on their own. Any that wandered into the moors would be quickly picked off by a predator.

Only those kept as pets survived. That made Kirs keeping one or more pretty normal. However, taking their ve everywhere they went was still a little bit eccentric.

“I’m not sure taking ve along is a good idea.” Dreel looked surprised at my concern.

“Why not?” It was a fair question. Ve are generally thought of as utterly harmless.

“You don’t know what happens when ve come near an outlander.” I was not surprised, considering how unlikely it was to happen.

“Ve are hyper aggressive towards them. They will go after an alma until physically stopped. Nothing you do will dissuade them.” I clarified. I had only tested it once, after which I was careful to never bring one along again.

“Really, that’s bizarre. Why would they do that?” Unsurprisingly, the idea of ve being aggressive towards anything was foreign.

I had my own theory why. Although, I had not yet been able to fully test it.

“Based on my experience, ve will attack any sapient that is not a gam. I don’t know how they know the difference, but they do.” That was not entirely true. I did not believe what they did was exactly an attack.

I had first discovered it during an unfortunate incident with an urser. The urser had been willing to counsel our people, and had finally excepted an invitation to be hosted at one of our villages.

When they came within eye line of a villager’s pet ve, the ve had immediately started slithering towards them. It had tried to sneak up behind the guest and lunge at their lower back.

Being as highly trained as all their kin, our guest simply cut the ve out of the air mid lunge. I suspected that event contributed to our uncomfortable relationship with their people.

The unlikelihood of a ve surviving to find a non-gam sapient outside a village was so low I had never seen what happens when they succeed. I could have tried to make it happen as an experiment.

Unfortunately, the only non-gam that were sapient within the moors were the urser and outlander expeditions. Both could have serious repercussions if I experimented on them.

Still, I remembered how the ve split open as it lunged. It looked like it was trying to bite the base of their spine.

The remains showed it split its end to create a horizontal slash. The slash extended a bit over an inch down its body and was reminiscent of a toothless mouth.

I found fine filaments inside that I suspected would have extended to interweave with the target’s spinal cord. It was the external view of exactly what my original body did to assimilate Gæri The’s body.

I was suspicious enough to put the ve I tested with the alma inside a narrow woven basket. It had still violently tried to escape when we came close.

There had been no opportunity to confirm the details. However, I was pretty sure ve were intended to merge with the bodies of non-gam.

“I had no idea. Are you sure? I will need to disappoint Kirs. They seemed so excited to.” I just sipped my blood and let them plan how to handle their villagers.