Before the Commonwealth existed, there was an expanding, multi-galaxy civilization. Due to the combined effects of a too-aggressive policy of expansion, civil unrest, the inequality and abuse of the classes, and the categorizing of augmented humans as a slave class, the Central Allied Worlds (CAW) disintegrated.

 

The period of darkness and barbarism that followed is referred to as the Downfall. Various groups of people fled the Central Allied Worlds (referred to by its descendants/survivors simply as “First Civ”) as they became endangered or more powerful people tried to have them classified as mutants or non-humans, and either sterilized or made them into slaves. Among them were the Khybors, the ancestors of the Leapers.

 

Some groups of people managed to get hold of ships and flee to distant galaxies.

Rescuing K’reeth from her kidnappers brought an epic storm down on their enemies, but common sense said the Dominators were far from defeated. Taron and K’reeth had dreamed of a world where Ayanlak and Na’huma colonists could live together in peace and acceptance. Now that she was pregnant, they needed to make that world a reality, and soon, or their child of two races might never be born.

Admiral Dorwen had a dream of a peace village, where both groups of galactic refugees could learn from each other and learn to share their world, which the Ayanlak had named Storm Shelter and the Na’huma colonists had named Refuge. As fall turned to winter, volunteers gathered and shared ideas, and traveled to the T’bredi enclave, where they would be safe from their enemies, to prepare to start building in the spring.

Touching while meeting together in the Dream Plain had always been forbidden, and the storm created when Taron rescued K’reeth illustrated exactly why. But that discovery sparked curiosity, and K’rin and other scholars delved into the archives to learn more about the Dream Plain, who had learned how to use it, and what else they could do in the realm of the mind. If people could travel wide distances through the Dream Plain–granted, with devastating consequences–what else could travel through it?

The discovery of ancient treasures stored in the Dream Plain, unchanged by the centuries, opened doors of speculation and possibilities, and a chance to delve the secrets of the ancestors.

 

Genre: Science Fiction    ISBN: 978-1-922548-69-6    ISBN PRINT D2D: 9798224875313    ASIN: B0DC4P4TYC    Word Count: 82,953

 

Continue the series:

Age 1:

Chapter 1

 

The sound of hooves splashing through water and sucking in mud came through the fading hum of rain. The wind had ceased its mournful whispers shortly after noon. K’reeth had sentinel duty in the mouth of the high cave where her rescuers had found shelter. Taron didn’t want her climbing up and down the stairsteps of the cliff face. Between the unpredictable slips of mud and loosened stone, the cascades of rainwater and her own weariness from traveling through the dreamplain, she was safer staying put. She planned to tease him soon that he was already turning into an overly cautious father-to-be.

Contemplating her pregnancy struck her breathless at the oddest times. Lately, Omnistos had been smothering her with miracles. First, finally being able to marry Taron, despite moons of separation and delays and problems relating to the conflict between the Ayanlak and the Na’huma colonists. Then her pregnancy, when far too many believed that Na’huma and Ayanlak could not interbreed. Well, she was proof that the two races were not so vastly different after all. And finally, her rescue from kidnappers, who took her by mistake, when they thought to kidnap and murder her adopted sister, K’rin, and ignite a war of genocide between Na’huma and Ayanlak.

Three nights ago, Taron had violated the most important rule of traversing the dreamplain: do not touch. He had not just touched her, but pulled her to him, physically, crossing what would take a day of hard riding in a matter of moments. The clash of physical world and dreamplain for those few seconds had brought a brutal storm down upon them. K’rin, Mykal and Taron had been prepared for the violent reaction in nature and had taken shelter in a cave high off the ground. The small hunting party chasing them had all been swept away by the violent storms that had raged more than two days. The Dominators who had kidnapped K’reeth had likely suffered the same fate.

Traveling physically through the dreamplain had exhausted K’reeth and Taron for the first day of the storm. She had feared the clash of energies and the effort,  along with her rough treatment during the kidnapping, might have caused her to miscarry. As soon as Taron had recovered enough, he used his healing talent to examine her and determine their child was still alive and safe in her womb.

When they had contacted Central using the portable communication pack the hunters had stolen and lost in the storm, Admiral Dorwen had said the first hunting and rescue party would arrive today. Now, while Taron, Mykal and K’rin explored, K’reeth perched on the ledge halfway up the Painted Cliffs, ready to send the signal when the soldiers arrived. The troop who had gone out after her kidnappers would hopefully join them in two more days. The first wagons full of supplies and surveyors and builders to prepare to build the Peace Village here in the chain of canyons would set out soon, to join them. Despite how far the fall weather had advanced, the Admiral wanted to get to work on the project to establish neutral ground and understanding between the Ayanlak and the Na’huma.

“Somehow, I don’t think that will be very easy,” she murmured, looking down at the muddy river still spilling through lower sections of the canyon floor.

The settlers here would need the skilled services of stone singers to divert the flow of storm water throughout the canyon. She wasn’t sure of the weather patterns in this part of the country, simply because it had been abandoned to the Na’huma within a few years of the sleeper ships arriving on their world. The Ayanlak had named this world Storm Shelter when they arrived centuries ago. The Na’huma insisted on calling it Refuge. They would have to agree on a new name, to make any progress in building peace.

K’reeth had a general idea of the amount of work it had taken to build the T’bredi enclave. If the winter storms were as heavy with snow through these cliffs and canyons as they were through the mountain fortress of the enclave, the planners needed to prepare to deal with snow melt and spring flooding. Perhaps the wiser course would be to build on the plateaus at the top of the Painted Cliffs and work downward as the village grew.

That was something to discuss tonight with Admiral Dorwen. If the communication pack’s solar batteries had charged enough, despite the overcast day, to allow for more than ten minutes of talk.

The first horse poked its nose around the bend in the canyon. K’reeth got to her feet and tottered on stiff legs to the fire. Three handfuls of leaves and debris created a black plume of smoke, clearly visible despite the gloomy shadows filling the canyon.

A shout rose up and she stepped to the front of the ledge to wave to the soldiers. Five horses were visible now. She took a deep breath and cupped her hands around her mouth and trilled the song of a moonbird calling her nestlings home from hunting. For a second, the song caught and her throat tightened. She wanted very much to do something painful to the ones responsible for the death of her k’reeth. Starting with her nasty cousin, Suanne.

That was something else to discuss with the Admiral tonight. She wished she had a wax tablet to write down her growing list, so she wouldn’t forget anything.

“Hello up there!” a man called. The soldiers on their horses had waded through the mud and water close enough she could make out details.

“Corporal Kimball?” K’reeth caught her breath in relief, then silently laughed at herself. Of course, her uncle would send soldiers who were known, proven friends of her brother. They couldn’t risk Dominators hiding among the searchers to sabotage the rescue efforts.

And yet, Benj had been her brother’s friend, and he had led the kidnappers who took her, thinking she was K’rin.

“How did you get away from that rotter?” Kimball called, his voice cracking. He stood up in the stirrups.

“The Admiral didn’t tell you?”

“We have the tap code pack. Not much good for details, just basic orders. We were told to meet up with Mykal at the Painted Cliffs. Nobody told us he found you. Are you all right?” He finally gestured for the other soldiers in his party, ten mounted men and four pack horses, to aim toward the visible stairsteps leading up to K’reeth’s ledge.

“Much better, thank you.”

“How close are those traitors? You’re hiding from them? Where’s the Captain?”

“Bring your horses up and come in out of the rain. Let Mykal give you all the details when he gets back.” She pointed at the cave mouth closer to the canyon floor, to the left of where the soldiers were urging their mounts up the first step out of the water. “Our horses are stabled in there, and Taron says there is room for at least twenty more.”

She stepped back into the cave, behind the windbreak that kept the worst of the wind and cold from entering their shelter and searched through the supplies. Despite so little time to pack, K’rin and Mykal had managed to gather enough. Including a good quantity of healing and restorative herbal mixtures. She hoped the soldiers had plenty of food in those packs, because both she and Taron had been ravenous after traveling the dreamplain. The supplies that would have been enough for the four of them for at least ten days would perhaps last two more.

When the rain was fierce, they had explored the network of caves where they had taken shelter and came upon a useful treasure. Chimers were globes of fused silica, hollow once the loose sand and gravel inside had been emptied out. A wide one with no cracks, large enough to hold three liters of water, sat on a frame of rocks on the edge of the interior fire pit, keeping water hot. K’reeth found the herbs she wanted and tossed in enough to make a sweet and spicy drink to welcome the soldiers. She hoped Taron, Mykal and K’rin would arrive soon, so she wouldn’t have to host these men. She only knew Kimball, from the long journey to Central with the returned children.

“This looks cozy,” Kimball said, peering around the windbreak.

“Come in. I can offer you something hot to drink after being out in the wet, but I don’t have enough cups. Could you bring your mess kits?”

Kimball stepped back out of sight and she heard him giving orders. In a moment, he and several of his men came into the cave. They looked around with interest, and K’reeth suspected they did so to avoid looking at her. Should she be amused or irritated or uncomfortable?

“Where’s the Captain?” Kimball said, after gingerly settling on the makeshift bench of smoothed branches, covered in a blanket.

“Surveying. The Admiral has work for all of us to do, once the weather clears.”

“If it ever does,” the red-haired man commented. He stayed by the opening and looked edgy, despite his casual posture, leaning against the cave wall.

Men’s voices raised in alarm and curses warned K’reeth just before the harsh shriek of a moonbird echoed through the cave. The k’rin bird brushed the ceiling as she darted in, circled three times, and then out again.

“Never seen one of those things get so close to people,” another man muttered.

“I’m sorry, she’s rather defensive of me, now that her sister is dead,” K’reeth explained. The men’s jaws dropped open and their eyes widened, almost in unison.

Then Kimball laughed. “That’s right! Never saw them, but I heard about those beasty birds you and the–your–the Ayanlak girl tamed. So it’s true?”

“Very true,” Mykal said, stepping around the men who partially blocked the doorway.

The next twenty or so minutes were filled with getting the soldiers settled and the hot infusion served and passed around. They brought folding camp stools and other equipment into the cave. K’reeth reflected that it was a blessing Taron had chosen such a large cave to set up their camp when they attempted to rescue her.

Eventually there was no more avoiding answering Kimball’s questions.

No, they didn’t know where the Dominators who had kidnapped K’reeth were.

No, they couldn’t tell how Mykal, Taron and K’rin had rescued her with such a large distance between them. The Admiral had requested they keep it hidden, to prevent the Dominators finding and stealing a tool that would benefit the alliance between Ayanlak and Colonists.

“Like what the pilots could do, back in the old civilization?” Rixler asked. He was older than most of the hunting party, had an eye patch, and walked with a limp. He was the scout for the team, and not an actual soldier.

“Pilots?” K’rin said.

“Hmm, something like steering a boat down the rapids,” Mykal said quickly. “But ships flying through the skies, through space.”

“I know what a pilot is, and I know about starships. But I don’t know about pilots who could cross far distances in an instant,” she said, and snapped her fingers for illustration.

“How would you know?” the red-haired man said. The hint of a sneer in his face and his voice made K’reeth bristle on behalf of her sister.

“I read. Do you know how to read?” K’rin wore her most innocent, sweet expression. “The T’bredi have vast libraries, full of the original books brought down from our sleeper ships when our ancestors first arrived here. Printed volumes, as well as thousands of disks and sticks with thousands of pages crammed into each one. So sad that the technology to read those millions of books has been lost. Or so it is said.” She shrugged. “But our ancestors were wise and copied over all that they could before the power cells were lost, so we could read and learn about the cruel worlds and tyrants our ancestors left behind, and the technology that allowed them to travel between the stars.” She fluttered her eyelashes at the red-haired man and several others, who were all watching her with their mouths slowly dropping open.

“Do any of you dirt-pounders ever listen?” Mykal growled. “Just because the Ayanlak don’t have the technology doesn’t mean they forgot everything once they left their sleeper ships. So be nice and answer the pretty lady’s questions, and don’t talk down to her like she’s five years old. She’s probably twice as smart as all of you put together.” He winked at K’rin as he finished, punctuating his words with a sharp nod.

“I was born before the voyage and the long sleep,” Rixler said, with a nod to K’rin. “I’m talking about Wrinkleship pilots. They were…do you know what a mutant is?”

“Yes, we do. Our ancestors had problems with mutations in the early days,” K’reeth said.

“Wrinkleship pilots could twist the fabric of time and space and like you said, cross huge distances in moments with their ships, and drag other ships through with them. I guess it makes sense that with enough time, enough genetic drift, other people can do the same thing as Wrinkleship pilots, but on the ground.” He gestured at Taron with a sharp jerk of his chin. “Is that what Wind Walkers like you can do?”

“Perhaps,” Taron said. He raised his and K’reeth’s joined hands, which had been mostly hidden by her wide sleeve and the shadows in the cave room. The tension spilling through him grew as several of the soldiers seemed to go on alert, staring at their joined hands. “I prefer to believe Omnistos gave us a gift, enabling me to rescue my wife before she was murdered.”

K’reeth held perfectly still, digging her metaphorical nails into the disciplined poise of a mistrada. The soldiers gathered around them didn’t practice much discipline, judging by their gasps and muttered curses. Several partially stood before others yanked on their arms to make them sit again.

“Yes, my parents know my sister is married, and yes, our uncle the Admiral knows,” Mykal said. “And not that it matters to any of you, but I approve, and I’m really disappointed because I thought all of you were better than those stupid bigots in the Dominators. Are you, or aren’t you?”

“Well scorch it all,” Dubroy said, and slumped back against the wall. “It’s not him being… Well, not that much. But you could have told us a lot sooner. Bunch of us have been building up the nerve to start courting your pretty little sister, once she’s been home long enough. Can’t blame us for hating someone, just a little bit, for beating us to the punch, can you?”

K’rin laughed.

Later, K’reeth felt like laughing a little bit, too. She hadn’t realized how the regard of the soldiers had made her uncomfortable until it stopped. They had been warned, and they proved they were men of honor. Most of them made a concerted effort not to look at her now. Mykal’s words and K’rin’s laughter helped. Even so, she was grateful when the talk turned to the work they would do, in preparation for the teams and supplies soon to arrive.

 

***

 

“You haven’t mentioned K’reeth’s…condition, have you?” Admiral Dorwen asked.

Only the four of them were in the cave to have this meeting through the communication pack. Kimball and his men had climbed up to the top of the plateau to set up their tents and prepare to get the lay of the land in the morning, if the weather stayed clear.

“Sir, it’s really no one’s business but our family’s,” Mykal answered.

“Unfortunately, you’re wrong.” His sigh came through the faint hissing and crackling of the speaker grid in the center of the pack. “Dominators will want to keep that baby from being born, and from reports Marcus has sent back, there are people with the same feelings about mixed blood on the Ayanlak side.”

“Yes, the Pure Bloods,” K’reeth said. “But they exiled themselves in Aundree’s time. She spoke of a day when other refugees would come to our world from the stars, fleeing the same cruelty our ancestors fled. Enemies tried to kill her to halt her vision and tried to force the chieftains to swear that this world belonged only to the Ayanlak. When their chieftains stood against her, chaiqua came to protect Aundree and shredded the assassins. The Pure Bloods declared themselves unjustly punished, and they and their followers went beyond the Crashing River to the west. They threatened brutal, lingering deaths to anyone who tried to persuade them to change.”

“That’s the same kind of thinking we tried to leave behind.” Her uncle sighed again. “Until the peace village is established, and other mixed bloods are born, your child will be a threat to the bigots and elitists, proving them wrong. Proving that we all have the same blood and genetics. Keep the news hidden as long as you can.”

“That shouldn’t be hard,” K’rin offered. “The weather will be getting colder, and that means heavy clothes in many layers. Nobody will notice until Ree is as big as a house.”

K’reeth muffled a squeak of laughter and wrinkled her nose at her sister. Taron grinned and wrapped his arm tighter around K’reeth.

“Sir… how are my parents taking this? This wasn’t how Taron and I wanted to tell them.” K’reeth swallowed hard, the laughter from a moment ago choked out of her. “This should be a happy time for our family.”

“Yes, it should. Except that we Dorwens don’t seem to be fated for domestic bliss. That includes you, Taron. You’re a Dorwen now.”

“Sir,” Taron said. “I am honored.”

“Let’s hope you consider it an honor a year or two from now. You might accuse me of cursing you when I welcomed you to the family.” He managed a raspy little chuckle. “Your parents are stunned, and they’re trying to be happy. They’re also coming out there. They need to see you for themselves, but they also want to be part of building this village of ours.”

The power gauge had already dropped by a tenth, so they settled down to work. Discussing the surveying already done. What Kimball and his men had observed on their journey to the Painted Cliffs. Most of the information was new. The colony’s scouts and surveyors hadn’t yet explored the canyons surrounding the Painted Cliffs. This section of the country had been slated for expansion in perhaps twenty years, if the colony continued to thrive.

K’rin provided the most useful information, referring to water flow tables and weather charts she had needed to teach students who had a talent for such research. She quoted several decades of general statistics about rainfall and snow depth and drifting patterns, compiled by stone singers and sky talkers. The five of them agreed the plateaus above the Painted Cliffs would be the only safe place to live during the spring melting and flooding, until stone singers reshaped the rock of the canyons and redirected the water flow. The winds ripping through this portion of the landscape would make tents and temporary shelters of wood inadvisable, and useless. The same weather patterns predominated in the mountain passes and canyons of the T’bredi enclave, which was why it had been built of stone, carved into the bedrock. Just like with the Canyon where the Keerlagor chieftains lived, the enclave had been established by stone singers, and expanded as need arose and their numbers increased. The peace village would have to wait until spring to begin building.

K’reeth nearly laughed aloud to realize that fluttering sensation in her chest was relief that she wouldn’t have to spend the winter camping in a network of caves. While doors could keep the storm winds out, she had a hard time envisioning how many tapestries and furs would be needed to line the walls and floor of the caves to ward off the damp and chill. The rooms would be dark and constricted. She longed for the cozy suite of rooms in a wing of A’tran’s sprawling house, given to her and Taron when they married. The plan had been for her to spend the summer traveling with him, as he finished the round of his duties as Wind Walker for the High Reaches, then return to the enclave, where she would resume her duties as mistrada and he would take up his assignment as the enclave’s head Wind Walker. She had so looked forward to curling up with her husband beside their fire pit, warm and safe and listening to the winds howl outside the thick stone walls and shutters of their home.

“What are you thinking?” Taron asked.

K’reeth looked up to realize the other three were looking at her. Had she said or done anything to catch their attention? Then she realized where her thoughts had been going, the idea she had been circling but hadn’t crystalized yet.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” she murmured.

“The enclave,” Taron said. He tapped his temple when she stared at him, wondering how he knew. “We had hoped this would happen, love. Especially after all that time we spent together in the dreamplain.”

“Yes, when we had nothing else, and nowhere we could be together.”

She shivered a little. Taron and Rhovas had both agreed that with enough time spent together in the dreamplain, eventually she and Taron would develop the ability to read each other’s thoughts, see the images in each other’s minds while they were awake. She simply hadn’t expected it to happen quite so soon.

“Excuse me?” Admiral Dorwen said, jerking her out of her thoughts.

“What are you two talking about?” Mykal said almost at the same time.

“Of course!” K’rin clapped her hands. “Sir, I think K’reeth is about to suggest that we spend the winter at the enclave. It is considered neutral territory by all the Ayanlak tribes. It is also accessible to all the tribes, on the edge of the Spine of the World Mountains, so there are always passes that are open. We are not as isolated during the winter snows as some territories. Delegates from the Na’huma and from the Council of Chieftains can come to us, and we can plan all winter, in safety.” She chuckled. “And not worry about being blown to the western shore or washed away in the spring. As well, we can access all the archival records of land surveys through the centuries, to plan the work of the stone singers, and where to build. We can have the ruling council assembled, and you and other, wiser heads can beat the stubborn and arrogant into submission by spring.”

Admiral Dorwen laughed. In short order, they agreed that Taron would contact Rhovas and the Wind Walkers serving at the enclave and make a formal request for the T’bredi to host the core of the new community that would gather through the winter.

“That brings up another topic I wanted to discuss. How much power and time do we have left?” the Admiral asked.

“Maybe ten minutes, sir,” Mykal said.

“Ah, just enough time. I am privy to the details of how Arin vanished from the Canyon and traveled to the High Reaches to be reunited with Tayree. Very few here in Central know those details, and I believe they should be kept as quiet as possible, for as long as possible. At the same time, the communication aspects of the dreamplain could be invaluable to keeping the peace. I need you to explore creating a network, manned by Wind Walkers, to ensure rapid communication between Ayanlak and Colonists. Communication and the destruction of rumors make a much stronger weapon for the sake of peace than anything else we can do or create. It would be convenient if we could transfer documents, written communication, not just verbal, to avoid errors in transmission… Is there always such a drastic reaction to physically moving through this dreamplain?”

“To be entirely honest, sir,” Taron said slowly, “I have no idea. Arin and Tayree can’t be the first to break the rule against touching in the dreamplain. I believe the damage and danger to the physical world was discovered long ago, which caused the rule to be made.”

“There must be records detailing such things, hidden away somewhere in the archives,” K’rin said. “The ancestors prescribed brutal punishments for anyone who destroyed knowledge or tried to erase records of the past. They strongly believed that remembering what was done and why it was wrong and didn’t work would prevent repetition of the stupidity of the ancestors.”

“The problem is that the archives are vast. There are dozens of scholars devoted simply to the care of the records, making copies and repairing damage and decay,” K’reeth said. “While our entire history since coming to this planet is recorded and preserved, much of it has been allowed to fade from conscious memory. Because it was written down somewhere and there was no need to keep it at the front of our minds.”

“I volunteer to search, sir,” her sister hurried to say. She wrapped her arms around herself and wriggled, prompting K’reeth to press a hand over her mouth to muffle laughter. K’rin loved to dive into archives and search out information nobody else knew. She excelled at contests of knowledge and memory and finding the many tiny gaps in the knowledge of others. Especially overly confident types who considered themselves the experts in anything worth knowing.

“Splendid,” the Admiral said. “Thank you, all of you. This has been a most productive meeting. I will pass on your greetings to your parents.”

“Give them our love, sir, please,” K’reeth hurried to say.

“I will do that. And if you could say a few prayers on my behalf, to persuade the council to support everything we’ve planned, and not revise everything for their own profit…” He sighed, and K’reeth had a clear image in her mind of her uncle, weary and showing his years, and the growing burden of the colony that rested on his shoulders.

“Always, sir,” Taron said. “Omnistos bless you for all you do for the sake of peace.”

Once the communication pack shut down, the four sat around it in weary silence. The cave room seemed darker without its bright spots of flashing red, green, and yellow lights. K’reeth rested her hand on the edge closest to her. It was still warm. She imagined it a living thing, conscious and providing a bridge through a mechanical kind of dreamplain to allow voices to be heard.

“We had such things,” K’rin said, her voice pitched soft. “Such machines. Technology. The ancestors put away much of the old weapons and the talking machines during the wars. The first chieftains divided our people into tribes and scattered us, to keep us from finding the hiding places and taking back the knowledge that could destroy us. Because the ancestors were unable to leave behind the poison of mind and heart that had chased them from the old civilization, far away across the stars.” She took a deep breath. “Uncle used to tell us about a room where a few broken pieces were kept, as reminders and warnings.”

“We have a lot of rooms filled with old equipment,” Mykal said, nodding slowly. “Most of the equipment isn’t broken, we just can’t use it because the power cells wore out, or broke, or we just had to make tough choices, conserve what we had for the really important needs. Communication and medical work, and defense.” He snorted. “We lost a lot of vital equipment in the early years of the colony because we wouldn’t listen when the Ayanlak warned us about dangerous places.” He glanced at K’reeth. “Like the settlement at Scolasi.” Another snort. “Of course, we named it… I can’t even remember what we named it. After the gocagi stampede, people wanted to forget, so they used the Ayanlak name.”

“Omnistos brings blessing out of even the worst pain and offers hope even when we are most stubborn and rebellious,” Taron said. “K’reeth is evidence of that.”

“Taron… I love you, but please, no philosophy this late at night,” K’reeth said on a sigh that threatened to turn into whining.

That earned a grin and a slight flush in her husband’s cheeks. He got to his feet, wobbling slightly, and bent to help her stand. The four made their goodnights to each other, each picking up a makeshift lamp of dried clay holding a lump of greaseweed. K’reeth gladly leaned into Taron, his arm tight around her waist, as they made their way into the shadowy nook further into the cave where they had their bed.

Kimball and his men had lived up to her hopes. Not only did they have plenty of food, but more blankets and equipment to share. K’reeth sighed in relief as she knelt on their shared pallet and felt the difference that two more blankets could make, cushioning her against the stone floor.

In moments she had peeled out of her vest and overshirt and tugged on the smock that she saved for sleeping in, then slid out of her trousers. The cloth of her smock was chilly. By the time she had her clothes neatly folded and sitting on the makeshift shelf of branches and piled stones, Taron had changed into his sleeping shorts and stretched out next to her. They pulled their blankets up, with their cloaks on top, and cuddled close, her arm across him, her head resting on his breastbone. A long sigh escaped her.

“This is my favorite part of the day,” she whispered, eyes falling closed as if weights were tied to her eyelashes.

“Nothing and no one beyond our blankets,” Taron murmured, “no duties, no enemies, just us.”

“Did you truly see what I was thinking? About spending the winter in the enclave?”

“I saw our home and…” He chuckled and tugged on her hair so she tipped her head back, and he brushed a kiss on her forehead. “I look forward to many long nights curled up with you, and praying the snow is so deep we can’t step out the door for days at a time.”

“I think I should be afraid of what the Winds will give our baby to do, if we have been given such strong gifts.”

“Babies. Twins are common among those with gifts.”

“Those with heavy destinies,” she whispered. “Heavy duties. I wish… I wish we could run away and have nothing to do with the peace village and the Admiral’s plans. I wish we could just raise our children where no one can find us. If Tayree and Arin worry about threats to the girls, being the Sentinel Stars, what will our children face, being half-bloods?”