The dream wasn’t images, but instead it was impressions. Feelings attached to places, twisted and warped as the power behind them tried to bring everything into focus. For a quick moment she was warm bronze reds with bark as black as a cloudy night. She opened her golden eyes to the darkness of her home, the hearth cast a warm meagre glow through the room and she could just make out the spine of a Sorrow that served as the middle line of the ceiling. It was so large they only needed four of its ribs for the rest of the foundation.

  Hema sat up slowly, the occasional piece of hay poking her through the thick cotton sheet that made up her bed. The thick woollen duvet over her, pulled against her chest. It was her most prized possession, two layers of wool filled with cotton fluff and looser unwoven wool. It had cost a small fortune and had taken her a year to make, but she was never cold in bed. With a huff she crept carefully out of the lovely warm pocket of bedding. That power in the back of her head was annoying but she let it guide her. She got dressed in several layers of wool tunics and skirts with an additional brown verorant pelt cloak, she donned her hide mittens before she carefully crept out of the house, gently shutting the thick grey petrified Sorrow wood door behind her.

  She used the planet's shadow on the orbiting white ring to check the time, it was val the third phase of the night. Hema breathed deep of the frigid air as it twisted and burned in her lungs. It was a feeling that had dominated her life yet the irritation never lingered. Her eyes fell from the bright ring to the well white lit illuminated village around her. Her fingers lingered on the door, a heavy grey petrified thing of Sorrow wood. She didn’t know when that particular Sorrow had been slain, but it was thick and perfectly suited to keeping out the near endless cold of the world. Her own furs were only half as good at holding in valuable warmth, but her hot blood and fur worked wonders on that front. She wiggled her white triangular fox ears, she liked to have a little stretch when she woke. Hema swished her fluffy white tail a few times as well then pulled her hood up.

  The coat itself was a heavy brown fur, carefully cut and sewn back together to fit her. It always held a smoky scent from when she would hang it at the end of the day up in the rafters where the smoke coalesced. Hema shook her head, dwelling on the scent was a waste of time. She set off down the trodden path, the presence in the back of her head guided her through town. Around her the houses were of the same make as hers were arranged in tight but slightly disorderly fashion. Perfect for breaking up the harsh winds that dominated the planet.

  The houses were all of different makes as bits of pieces of Sorrow’s were incorporated into them. A commonality between them all was that they were all elevated the better part of a metre off the ground. Each home had a masonry heater, these were set on a bed of stone that sat on the permafrost. The heaters themselves were one of two designs, one a column that used Sorrow bones to vent smoke from a small fire up through the struts of the houses, carrying heat throughout the house. The second was more of a square box, where the fires would heat the stones and the thermal mass would carry the house through a whole day.

  These were the central feature of all homes, beyond that the basic structure of each house was made up of four things. Heart wood from the local trees, Sorrow bones fulfilling much the same role as heart wood but with the added usefulness of their marrow of the bone to transmit heat and soft wood for the things that didn’t matter if they warped with time. Then finally preserved Sorrow flesh, which could be done in many ways from smoking, to freezing or application of tar. While freshly killed Sorrow flesh could be shaped in any number of ways, for building and tools.

  They came in two general designs, a log house many meters long and rectangular with thick mats of grass on the tops. That least one of their walls was usually covered in snow and packed tight so they could shepherd goats and sheep onto. The second design was two layers, one base level where most of the working space resided, kitchen and storage with sitting areas. Above it was a loft where two sides overhung the base story. These roofs were straight at shallow angles for ease of snow clearing as necessary. Windows in both designs were sparse as it was difficult to prevent them from being massive heat leaks.

  Snow clung to every surface and lay in thick banks against the buildings. Some built it further up to act as another layer of insulation against the cold. The thin lines of smoke that rose from every chimney made her smile as she walked. She didn’t really know where she was going as she let the feeling guided her onward. It was the third phase of the obits cycle, there were five: dawn, midday, first night, second night and third. Each with their own rotation of people, the second shift of night owls would be on patrolling the perimeter right now. She was usually on the shift for val or third night, from there she would work till dawn, perhaps a little of midday if she felt up to it, then sleep through the first and second night. Tol and sal respectively, each section of night and the one of day was six hours long. People were generally allowed to fall into whatever shift suited their sleep pattern, with the white ring above them it was only ever truly dark on stormy days. Which to be fair happened often, but otherwise the difference in light from dawn and midday to any of the night hours wasn’t hindering.

  Still she was only just barely an adult thus skirted discreetly around what other villagers were awake and tending to their tasks. Everyone knew each other and she didn’t fancy someone telling her parents that she had snuck out in the middle of the night. That would get her in trouble for weeks at minimum. The gates were thick black Sorrow wood, braced with heavy bands of steel and were shut. This was normal but Hema still scowled, the feeling in her head said that they were leaving and that they were leaving now. As much as it was stupid thing to leave the village alone ever, but she knew that the force in her head had a vested interest in keeping her alive and she doubted it would send her into danger. So wherever she was going, it would be safe. With a huff she headed up the steep grey stone stairs of the battlement, to her surprise there was no guard in place. “Huh,” she murmured and peered over the wall, it was about ten meters tall with the snow shovelled away from the stone.

  With another huff she climbed up onto a merlon and her focus crystal, implanted at the base of her neck, warmed as she reached for her magic. After a moment of focus her body dissolved into red-orange maple leaves. She had to wait for a gust of wind but it obliged and blew her gently out of town. To use magic pulled on a person's physical endurance, and it wasn’t something she had in abundance but with the help of the wind she soared over several kilometres of snow covered fields and into the red forest beyond. The trees were towered above her with black bark and crimson pine needles, snow clung to everything as the wind pushed her northward.

  Fear pricked at her guts as she carefully reformed and caught herself on a thick tree limb. With a grunt she pulled herself up onto the branch and cuddled up against the trunk. She pulled the thick woven woollen veil of her hood down and breathed shallowly as it helped create a warm pocket of air over her face. Hema rested in the relative safety of the tree as she hoped that no Sorrow or other creature would smell her in it. Thankfully, with her safely ensconced against a tree the wind stopped blowing.

  “So, mantle finally speaken’ up?” A saucy smirking voice sounded from above her.

  Hema bit her lip to keep from yelping in surprise as she snapped her gaze upward. The figure above her was male with warm tanned skin, a lean body without any flesh crafted features so he looked rather akin to her only with round ears rather than fox ones. His features were perfectly balanced with almond shaped eyes with yellow irises. He was completely hairless and physically appealing. She blinked a few more times as her body began to heat and flushed. “Uh, and you are?” She asked.

  “Aww, I’m hurt.” He said and spun on the branch to spread himself over it with his ankles hooked up in the air. He put a hand on his chest over his sternum. “Ye old mantle hasn’t told you about me yet? Here I thought you were asking for my help on the wall.”

  “I mean maybe the mantle was but I’ve only been dreaming with it for a few days. I guess it decided I was matured thus started shoving information into my head. But I haven’t really uh ‘talked’ to it, or used it. It’s like a hand on my shoulder but in the back of my head. It’s not words or anything uh clear right now.” Hema said and cocked her head to the side. “How come you don’t have any tattoos?”

  “Oh come on, you’re a smart foxy, guess.” The male said with a wide grin that dimpled his cheeks.

  Hema hummed and watched him, he wasn’t ever still, tapping his fingers, rocking his heels back and forth. The mantle tapped at the back of her brain and a fleeting image of kissing the male accompanied by a feminine moan passed through her mind. So she reasoned that whoever he was, a previous ?veni had mated with him. That did reduce the list a bit, there was of course Herne, ?veni’s mate and husband, a few others here and there but the most likely answer given that he was nude and without any tattoos was. “You’re the Spring Wind,” she said confidently.

  “Got it in one pretty foxy,” said the Spring Wind.

  “And how long have you been following me around? Have you told any of the Incarnations where I am? It’s been a bit concerning Herne hasn’t shown up to get me.” Hema asked.

  “Na. Not gonna spoil all your parent's hard work. Besides Herne’s moping right now, won’t even fuck the Winter Wind. When he’s turning down sex you know something is catastrophically wrong.” The Spring Wind said and turned on the branch to lay on his back and drop his head over the side to look at her upside down. “And all the Winds know where you are, but we all agree with your parents. So mums the word,” he twirled a finger in the air as he spoke. “But to answer your question, not actively paying attention to you till you were on the battlement. I’m pretty sure the mantle poked me. Given the hunches I was following for directions, I think it’s safe to say it wants to send you off to visit your babies.”

  Hema blushed and corrected him, “you mean Herne’s dryads.”

  “Meh, same difference,” the Spring Wind said with a dismissive flick of his hand.

  “No, really very different.” Hema said.

  “Agree to disagree,” the Spring Wind said.

  “You are ridiculously how ever did you get ?veni to mate with you?” Hema asked.

  “I made her laugh. One of the most important choices in a mate.” Spring Wind grinned from ear to ear again.

  “Well you’re not going to find that working on me,” Hema said.

  “Oh I wouldn’t bet on that.” He said and tapped a foot in the air. “Herne is a big male, you might want to practice with someone a bit more manageable before him.”

  Hema was grateful for her veil because she was sure he would tease her relentlessly about the perplexed scowl on her face. The mantle shoved the feeling of Herne above her through her mind, all she could experience for a moment was the feeling of being stuffed by the enormous male, how hot he was above, around and in her and how he smelled. Like pine and wolven musk. She could feel thick heavy layers of muscle under her fingers. Hema visibly jerked into the present at the sound of her own moan.

  Spring Wind snickered and said, “hmm you smell as good as you look.”

  “Oh shoosh! The mantle keeps shoving things at me.” Hema had to consciously moderate her voice not to shout in indignation.

  “Ooo who was it, Herne. Or me?” He said with a lewd smile.

  “Herne,” Hema mumbled.

  “Nice. Totally would fuck, ?veni got so lucky with him.” Spring Wind said with a mournful sigh, “still we should get a move on if you’re recovered.”

  “Gonna blow me over to the dryads then?” Hema asked.

  “Sure is safer then you walken.” Spring Wind said.

  Hema huffed and focused, her focus crystal warmed and her tattoos brightened but the heavy layers completely concealed the light. Slowly she dissolved back into red-gold maple leaves and Spring Wind vanished as the wind gently blew her out of the tree and northward again. She could see everything as if she was walking and couldn’t help but notice the occasional fresh Sorrow corpse. They were hulking things easily ten times her mass, with six or more legs lizard-like legs and heavy grey plating over their backs. With huge maws that could bite off her limbs with ease. The flesh of them ranged anywhere from black to dark brown, though she couldn’t see much more with the snow piling on them. An educated guess was that the dryads had killed them for invading their territory.

  The Spring Wind carried her all the way to the Voil Tree. It was Herne’s home, an auburn tree that towered over the continent a defiant symbol against the snow and ice around them. The leaves were red, black and purple that gilded its warm bows. Hema didn’t remember how Herne had made the tree as this sort of thing wasn’t his thing. She reformed by a black pool at the base of the tree, it was several meters wide and a perfect circle.

  Spring Wind did the same, still naked as he stretched on the spot. “Ladies and Gentle trees, I brought you a present!”

  “And do you bring mischief with it father?” a light airy voice asked.

  Hema spun and her golden eyes widened as several dryads walked out of their trees. Their skins were a variety of dark barks, from black to bronze the males had spines growing out of their skin along the outsides of their limbs. They looked in shape the same as Hema herself, an Itarus, humanoid; two arms and legs with a single normal looking head. From there the similarities ended, both sexes had crowns, antlers or crests growing out of their heads. A few males sported outright stag ensembles, while the female that had spoken had a crown with small maroon leaves adding to the regal shape of it. The female in question strode forward far too perfectly to be a mortal creature completely ignoring the snow. She had a mimicry of slight breasts but Hema noticed no nipples, her narrow form supported the idea that these were manifestations that could be changed on a whim. Her eyes were a solid maroon and she had no nose, just thin lips and small hollows in place of ears.

  “Hello ?veni,” the dryad said. “Finally come out?”

  “Er, sort of. The mantle has started prodding me and this is where I ended up. I’m Hema not ?veni,” Hema said as she pulled her veil up and winced. The frosty air was quick to attack the exposed skin. “Spring Wind here helped me get here safely.”

  The dryad smiled and a few of her leaves of her crown un-frilled. She said, “he can be useful sometimes.” With a bow she added. “I am Stands-At-The-North-Wall. This male is Stretches-Highest, the others will introduce themselves in time.”

  Hema returned the bow, “it’s an honour to meet you. I think the mantle wants you to teach me more magic.”

  “Yes we gathered that. It’s nudging more than just you,” Stands-At-The-North-Wall said and moved to Hema, her torso dipping down with her hands splayed behind her at her hips. “The Sorrows tonight were strangely easy to track, and the mantle would want to make you safe.”

  Hema smiled as the tall dryad came to her, standing straight the tree avatar would be double her height. It was odd to look at someone with no nose but she liked the smell of sweet spring rain that came from the dryad. “I’ve never hunted a Sorrow, honestly this is the first time I’ve been out of my village,” she said.

  Stands-At-The-North-Wall giggled her leaves flaring open as she said, “my you are cute. So what can you do already?”

  “Well, like you I can become leaves but I need a wind to push me around. Uh, I can make myself faster and stronger, not that much though and I can hold that for about two minutes. A little bit of other flesh weaving, like I can change the colour of my fur. I mostly learned that because I was embarrassed when I went albino for the first time.” Hema said and blushed, her cheeks were beginning to burn.

  “Not bad for a beginner,” Stands-At-The-North-Wall said with a hum and reached up to drop Hema’s veil back over her face. “No need to suffer for us. And how do you like to fight?”

  “My father made me a thrusting shield nearly as big as me. So mostly with that, but I can use an axe and spear with it but I prefer to do everything with the shield. You aren’t just going to teach me combat magic are you?” Hema asked.

  “No, but it’s a priority for obvious reasons.” The dryad raised a hand and from her palm swiftly grew a heavy halberd from the ground made of roots. She wrapped her fingers around in a little wave as she said. “Probably not your need, but I could see you growing skilled at generating similar things and shooting into flesh you’ve exposed with your shield.”

  Hema could see that too and it sounded like great fun. She looked over to find the rest of the dryads had drifted away, probably off to patrol while Stretches-Highest had walked to the Voil tree and was caressing it. The fox woven watched as he grew out a woven silver of golden bark no longer than her pinkie and wove it into a ring. He walked back over and offered it to her.

  Stretches-Highest voice flexed and groaned like a harsh wind through branches. He said, “this will help till you’ve got a feel for it.”

  “Like holding a fire in your palm?” Hema asked as she removed her mittens and tucked them in a large side pocket. His skin was cold to the touch as she took the ring and slid it onto her middle finger, from there it uncoiled to cover the entirety of the space between joints. She found that the gold looked rather odd on her snow white skin but that she liked it. Hema wiggled her finger and found the bark flexed with the action and didn’t tug.

  “Precisely,” Stretches-Highest said. “Have you tried that?”

  “Yeah, I never could get the feel of it before the alcohol burned out.” Hema said and scowled at the jewellery, she focused on the feel of it. It was taking on her body heat as much as that was dwindling, having her flesh exposed to the elements. Her focus crystal began to heat and she grimaced as she felt a new line of tattoo cut its way down her arm but she didn’t let the sensation of pins and needles distract her. The golden bark twisted and a piece stabbed into her finger, from it golden lines like a massive tangle of roots spread up the back of her hand made of the same energy her focus crystal used. Hema bit down hard on her bottom lip, refusing to wince and risk embarrassing herself before her new teachers. She felt when the two networks met, the pain vanished and she stumbled as her rose red filled the roots and lined the jewellery. “Ha!” she exclaimed and punched to the sky, despite how stupid it was to shout outside of town.

  “Nicely done,” Stretches Highest said. Then took her hand looking over the new red tattoos. “Could have reduced the space use though, you let the focus of the bark take too many liberties.”

  “I just didn’t want to lose it.” Hema said as he gently turned her hand back and forth. “Oww.”

  “I shall just tidy it for you, this is much too obvious to be safe.” The dryad said as he stroked a tight circle over the back of her middle knuckle with his own middle finger. The red tattoo of roots coiled together to make a tight braid before he removed his finger. “There, much more subtle.”

  Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

  “What are the odds I won’t be wearing gloves or mittens?” Hema asked, changing a tattoo for such a reason seemed a bit silly to her.

  Stands-At-The-North-Wall said, “you will learn to heat your body. Herne doesn’t need to wear clothing at all. It’s a common act of flesh weaving and useful, otherwise if something damages your clothes your timer takes a dramatic hit.”

  “Yeah, well Herne is way fuzzier than I am,” Hema said and turned her hand back and forth admiring the tidy tattoo.

  “I think we will start with it. We use it to keep ourselves from freezing, otherwise these shapes would become brittle and useless.” Stands-At-The-North-Wall hummed and looked at Stretches Highest. Who rolled his solid black eyes.

  He spread his hands and muttered, “the things I do for you youngsters.” In a circle around them by about three meters, thick roots erupted from the ground and swiftly made a dome over them. Branches grew from them further enforcing the sphere as thick but narrow leaves layered tightly over the outside to block even the tightest breeze. The only gap was a small hole in the very top.

  “Hey!” Spring Wind snapped but signed. “Fine, I’ll go find someone else to bother.”

  Both dryads shook their heads with amused smiles, and Stretches highest added a floor under their feet to insulate them from the snow. Hema sat with them and watched. She guessed that Stretches Highest was the oldest of them. He snapped his fingers and lit a small orange flame on them. With a few more twists and additions to the sphere, he lit a fire pit in the middle that quickly roared to warm the air around them.

  Hema couldn’t help but relax and pull her hood down, then stretched her fingers toward the fire. The tips of which had begun to turn red but that was normal. Even in summer it was never really warm, just less freezing. She looked between them and the question burst out of her, “why do you look like Itarus?”

  Stretches-Highest shrugged his shoulders and flicked his hand, weaving a few errant flames over his fingers. “?veni was our mother, after all. And by then she had adopted the flesh woven form akin to your own. Some of us prefer the great strength of digitigrade legs, but when walked for long periods, for which plantigrade legs are best. Beyond that, it is most comfortable, the shape we are drawn to. To even be Itarus, there is much variation of that. We aren’t even unified in shapes, two arms, four, wings, tails, legs of all types. With flesh weaving we can be anything, so we don’t think and shape ourselves in the way that feels most natural.”

  “I guess that makes sense, I couldn’t imagine not having my ears and tail,” Hema said. She swept her own fluffy white tail into her lap and tucked her fingers into the fur. “It’s so handy to have. Are the werewolves the same then? I’ve never actually met one, I just know they are Herne’s children like you are ?veni’s.”

  “For the most part, again the variation can be as varied as the person involved. Like us they tend to maintain two shapes, but I have seen one who had six he rolled through. But then he was a great warrior and made his shapes to give him advantage.” Stretches-Highest said, “but such skill is rare in a single individual. Noturene, Mortagen and Herne are the only ones in the world that can truly become whatever they desire to be. No matter what shape I take here, I’m still a tree. It is not the same with them.”

  “So, who was the mother in that one?” Hema asked sheepishly.

  Stands-At-The-North-Wall smirked at that and said, “I believe the story goes that Herne was off masquerading as a female wolf on some bet or attempt to tease the Winter Wind. Of course dear Winter has never failed to make Herne regret his choices.”

  Hema giggled as she imagined how that went and hoped the mantle would fill in the details on that later.

  Stands-At-The-North-Wall cupped her hands together then opened them slowly. A rich bouquet of tyrian coloured dozen petals bloomed between them in a large flower. “We shall start with this, to make something out of your physical energy. I assume you’re familiar with the principle?”

  “Sorta, our village mostly teaches fire and ice. Fire I never could bond my crystal to and ice just hates me. So in the sense of theoretical yes. I understand the principles but the only magic I’ve ever managed to do was turn myself into maple leaves and I think I was just born with that affinity.” Hema said and tapped the gilded bark jewellery, “probably why I could manage this.”

  “Possibly, from what we’ve noticed it is often the teacher not the student at fault when one can not learn,” Stretches-Highest said.

  Hema blushed and said, “it was probably just me.”

  Stands-At-The-North-Wall cupped her hands together and said, “let’s start simple. Make a flower.”

  From the space between them a bud manifested out of green light. Hema watched as it grew like a real one and bloomed with the floof of a dozen green soft petals. “Wow,” she reached out and gently touched one of the silky petals, “I’ve never seen a green plant before.”

  Stands-At-The-North-Wall took her hand and placed the flower in it, “they are rare. I’ve only heard of them growing on canyon walls. You may keep this one, I illuminated it’s flows. You should be able to join with them to better study the flower.”

  Hema raised the flower up to her eyes so she could better see the flows. Thin lighter green lines that wove through each petal, she knew the principle of flows but had never worked with them before. Only the basics of the four lores of magic were taught as they weren’t well understood. Isolated towns were the best for magical experimentation and study. You had to go to the City if you really wanted to learn magic. Hema did want to go, even if she equally dreaded it because she had no idea how to conceal that she was ?veni. There was only one person on the whole planet at a time with golden eyes after all.

  Flows were the current that ran through everything. Most often demonstrated to students by the massive mycelium network that spanned the planet. It was the easiest to access example because it was mindbogglingly massive. Tapping into it without a master around was forbidden because you could get lost easily and never find your way back to yourself and the mushrooms did so enjoy free food. Given the cremation culture they were greedy for Itarus bodies and focus crystals. By making a flower like this Stands-At-The-North-Wall had given her a safe self contained way to study a flow without any of the usual danger.

  The fox lady put the flower in her unadorned hand and shut her eyes. It was warm to the touch, just above skin temperature the petals themselves were the softest thing she had never felt. Hema brought her attention to her focus crystal, it and her tattoos warmed as she turned her attention inward. The simplest flow that everyone learned was the veins of blood in their body. It was a necessary thing to understand in the event of a virus or plague coming into town. The most talented flesh weavers would infect themselves, use their bodies as ground zero, with their mastery over their flesh they would study the infection. Follow it along their flows till they understood how it worked, usually it did not take more than an hour or two. Then make antibodies special to that infection, a plague could be cured within a day. Once the masters had the antibodies they’d tend to others, dipping into their flows teaching their bodies what to do. Hema had always admired this process, even if she doubted she’d ever be skilled enough to do it.

  To study the flows of the flower was the same principle. To enter it, to understand it and to bring it into herself. The heat of her focus crystal travelled down her arm and she pressed it up into the flower. In her mind's eyes she could see its flows, simple, symmetrical which was a little odd to see but she guessed that was how you could tell it was artificially made. She held that in her mind and pulled the feeling through her tattoos and crystal then relaxed the hand with the bark ring around it. She imagined those same flows blooming up from the ring.

  Hema felt her energy wane, any magic as taken from the body. A person's physical endurance, it was completely possible to kill yourself using magic but most just fainted first. Between laundry and dairy work, physical strength and endurance was something she had in spades. It was still tiring though, she imagined the petals opening and opened her eyes.

  Unlike Stands-At-The-North-Wall’s flower, hers was the same warm maple red as her tattoos but otherwise was a perfect replica. Hema couldn’t help but grin as her ears flicked forward and her tail wagged slightly, “I did it! I totally forgot about the colour but I still did it!” She blushed as she remembered herself and lowered her voice, “first try too.”

  Stretches-Highest reached over and gently took the flower from her, he held it in his large hands careful not to ruffle the edges. With a sharp nod he said, “excellent work. Perhaps the more elemental magics simply don’t agree with you. Your affinity might simply be for the living things. What are your tasks at home?”

  Hema listed them off on her free hand, “chiefly I run the diary for my family and help others when they have issues. Then I help with the weaving, from start to finish. I cook three days a week and I’m always on the laundry rotation.”

  “So you are working with the products of living things,” Stretches-Highest said. “You should try applying your energy to wool in the future, I have a feeling it would take well. Your intent could simply be to make it stronger. Keep in mind the end strength though, less you overdo it.”

  “I will,” Hema said, her mind already turning to some dirty scraps no one would miss. Doing cheese and laundry did get boring at times. Having more things to think about while she worked would be nice. Maybe she could even work out a way to use magic to pull dirt out of clothing. That would make her life so much easier and all the things she could do with the free time of not having to beat up laundry. It would probably take more energy to do it with magic then by the usual force but it would be good practice at least.

  Stretches-Highest cupped her flower and wilted it, making it wither in on itself and turn a dull black-brown. He offered it to her and said, “restore it.”

  Hema took it back, her focus crystal warmed as she focused on the flower. It was easier to do with her own creation. The ring around her finger glowed red-gold as she eased her awareness into the flower. It felt wrong, ill even like something had infiltrated it’s flows and was making it sick. She gagged and yanked her magic out of the flower.

  “What did you do?” she asked in an affronted tone.

  “Exactly what it feels like. Made it sick, introduced a virus. The most common application of flesh weaving, the job you will be called on to do the most. Is heal or rather exterminate viruses, to teach the body to fend off infections in a more timely manner than would otherwise be possible.” Stretches-Highest cupped her hands with his own. Then added, “it is unwise to attempt to do the entire body of someone yourself. Such large complex systems will burn you out long before you finish the task. Even if the mantle found some way to aid you.”

  His bark was warm on her skin, heightened as she was she could feel the flows of his body thrum under his wooden skin. It was a nice contrast to the soft withered flower in her palms. The touch helped her fight the urge to drop the flower like it was toxic. A smile tugged at Hema’s lips at the thought, it probably was toxic just to self contained to harm anyone. “So what do I do?” she asked.

  “First you must revisit the flows you made, see where I made changes and where the virus travels. Then you must open those flows again, or repair them. After that you tackle the virus itself, on that front I will guide you. Most people can not comprehend the nature of such things, so it is best to show how it feels to learn and do battle with one. Should you visit a university in the future, they will likely teach you a more scientific approach. As much as they can understand it at least.”

  “Okay, so how does that work?” she asked. Wondering where that last comment came from, did people not understand it? If so, why? When the study of it was so important, what was the limiting factor? “And why wouldn’t they understand it?”

  Stretches-Highest pursed his thin lips then cautiously said, “such questions hold dangers of their own. While it can not harm you know, be careful in future not to speak to them under the cover of night.”

  “Why would Noturene have a problem with them?” Hema asked rapidly.

  He grimaced and grumbled, “clever lady you are. How much has the mantle shown you of the early days?”

  “Absolutely,-” Hema began with a shake of her head, her tone before it fell, “-nothing.”

  “Then consider there is a reason for that and that reason will keep you safe from Noturene’s ire. Curiosity is fine, but keep it to yourself.” Stretches-Highest said, “Altus and Herne know of what you are questioning. They would be safe but any such questions or conversation must be kept between the Incarnations and the old ones at that. No one new.”

  Hema furrowed her brow and asked, “why?”

  “I shall not say. You will have to figure that one out on your own, or take the question to Noturene yourself and hope she is in a good mood,” he said. “Now you have roamed off topic, we have a flower to heal.”

  The fox woven grimaced and turned her attention back to the flower. With a new question in her mind but the determination to do this so she could ask more, she focused with her eyes shut. She could feel the flows of her flower and with the healthy ones in her mind so recently it was easy to pick out the changes. With an effort of focus, will and energy she undid knots in the veins, breached gaps and poured new energy through them. Only then did she look for the pollutant that tasted like burned ram fat on her tongue.

  That was how she tracked it, watching the little black specs travel along the flows. The warmth from Stretches-Highest increased till it was pleasantly hot against her skin. She could feel a pressure on the back of her head, not painful but just present. Her awareness was yanked and suddenly all she could see was an orb with a stock underneath and two legs. Green magic snipped the stock and the cell disintegrated.

  “Now you try, hunt one down,” he said.

  It was a challenge to pull her vision back out, she thought about just the flows and found herself looking back at the network that made up the flower. Thick clusters of black travelled along them, she focused on one, struggling as her vision wavered in and out. Nausea ripped her out of her focus as she lurched to the side and gagged. Barely avoiding puking when warmth filled her stomach and calmed it. It rushed up her spine to fill her brain. Hema panted on the warm floor only then noticing Stretches-Highest had a hand on the back of her hand and the small of her back.

  “Easy, slow breaths,” Stretches-Highest said, “I’m heading it off, it will pass quickly.”

  Hema shut her eyes tight and put a hand over her mouth. She breathed slowly in her nose and held it, she hunched her shoulders in and held still. The priests taught that Sorrow’s could smell your breathing, so everyone learned to breathe minimally as a child. Doing the exercise helped slow her breathing, made her vision slowly stop wavering and out of focus. The white splotches on the backs of her eyes dwindled. She covered her nose as she exhaled at a snail's pace. It was just like a Sorrow, if you were quiet and still, they wouldn’t catch you. You had to be controlled, quiet, still, don’t breathe, don’t move. She took another careful breath, the throbbing eased off and Stretches-Highest helped her sit up.

  She stuck her tongue out as she rested against the side of the room. Her mouth felt tacky and she was exhausted. “What was that?” she uttered softly.

  “Hyper focus, it does odd things to the brain which reflects in the eyes. A very common mistake when first learning the flows of living matter,” Stretches-Highest said. He picked up the flower and reduced it to ash, killing the manufactured virus.

  Hema was a little sad to see her flower go but understood the necessity of the action. Still she said, “couldn’t you have just fixed it?”

  “Don’t get attached to your creations, there will always be another. Always something new to learn, nothing is ever perfect. Only through practice do we improve. When you leave I will destroy this structure and the next time you come I will make another. If I have to make a thousand huts, I shall make a thousand huts and no two will be the same. I will learn something each time,” the dryad said.

  “Okay I understand,” Hema said and sagged into the wall, her eyelids drooping. “I’m really tired now.”

  “When we shall call it a lesson here,” Stretches-Highest said. “Remember to have something to eat and drink before you rest. The exhaustion of magic can sneak up on you,” he reached over, flipped her hood down and veil over her face.

  Hema let him help her put her mittens back one, only when he was sure her skin was covered did he snuff the fire and the hut wilted to ash around her. He helped her stand and addressed Stands-At-The-North-Wall, who had been content to let him do the teaching. “Make sure she gets home safely, let Robin and Ralool know we shall be visiting one way or another often.”

  Stands-At-The-North-Wall nodded her head and said, “as you wish. Are you sure us going into town is wise though?”

  “You could always adjust your appearance if you are that concerned.”

  She huffed and called out to the Spring Wind, who was sitting on a low branch, rocking his feet back and forth. “Going to give us a ride?” she asked.

  “Yup, wouldn’t to risk sending you on your own and you know how people get unnerved by the dryads. Come then, become leaves and I’ll get you home,” he said and vanished.

  Hema turned into maple leaves, to hang listlessly in the air. Stands-At-The-North-Wall became pine needles that buffered and pushed against her leaves. The wing gusted and they soared homeward together. It was odd to have someone helping and guiding her leaves. She could feel Stands-At-The-North-Wall around her, how their leaves and needles brushed each other in the blowing wind.

  They reformed in her front yard, and Spring Wind did the same sitting on a snow drift. Stands-At-The-North-Wall pulled herself together and became a nude pale skinned flesh woven woman. With no interesting features at all, woven features at all. No animal traits, or adaptations. She had no hair at all; a plain oval face, thin lips, straight nose with dull brown eyes.

  The dryad looked at herself and scoffed, “I hate playing Itarus.”

  “I can see why, you are terrible at this,” The Spring Wind said from where he sat on a snow drift.

  Stands-At-The-North-Wall scowled at him and said, “not all of us have your practice at it.”

  Hema interrupted, she could sense that a fight would brew if she let this play out. She said, “you know if you’re going to be a fixture. It would help if you had another name. Referring to you as ‘The Spring Wind’ is going to get tedious.”

  “Herne calls me ‘Pain in his arse,’ and my siblings call me ‘Mischief’.”

  The dryad snorted, “Appropriate.”

  Hema rolled her golden eyes and said, “I’m not tempting fate like that. How about Mist?”

  The Spring Wind kicked his bare feet a few times with a hum then gave a sharp nod, “Mist, I enjoy helping to make it.”

  “And you need clothes, you're going to make people nervous, flaunting your power like that.”

  Mist the Spring Wind pointed and drawled out, “fine.” He manifested a typical combination of brow, coat, trousers and boots. “Good enough?”

  “Yes,” Hema said.

  Stands-At-The-North-Wall crossed her arms over her chest. “Well I am not,” she said. “I’m playing nice as it is.”

  Hema sighed, well no would mistake Stands-At-The-North-Wall for anything other than a mystical creature. It was a bit rude to the mortals around, that being part of why the Spring Wind consented to masquerade as a regular person. “Okay, just try to be nice please. I know dad works with the dryads on occasion but that’s him visiting you not the inverse. Also why did you come and not Stretches-Highest?”

  “Stretches-Highest doesn’t like to leave home, he’s old and stuck in his ways but he’s the best teacher we have,” she said.

  Hema took a fortifying breath and said, “okay. Be quick,” she turned and opened the heavy grey door. She lead the party as they raced inside and shut the door behind them.

  At the sight of the three. Ralool, Hema’s father had to work to extract himself from the bed with the rest of his children. He was less flesh woven than his wife. He sported characteristics of those prior to the most recent wave of weaving; a pair of digitigrade legs of the Itarus prior to the modern day and ivory horns from the base of his skull that flowed down over his chest to cover his sternum. His flesh woven additions were a thick tawny fur that covered the outsides of his legs and arms. He stepped out of bed tucking the heavy pelt in around several children as he went. He was the tallest in the room at almost two meters but he was broad and heavy set, an excellent form for moving heavy things. Ralool typically worked during the day and first night phases so he grumbled and rubbed his dark red eyes.

  While her mother looked up from the fire she was tending to begin making breakfast. She had dark red hair and oval features. She had almond shaped eyes that were a deep brown. Her ears were pointed, cheeks low and shallow with thin lips. Her flesh woven aspect was a massive set of lovely robin wings. Hema loved her mom’s wings, they were big fluffy and most importantly. Warm.

  “Hey mom,” Hema said as she took her coat off and flipped it up over a rafter. “How are you?”

  “Well, I see that you went for a walk when you should have been sleeping,” Robin said.

  Hema froze with wide golden eyes and stuttered, “uh. Yeah, but in my defence the mantle made it seem like a great idea at the time. It kept me safe.”

  Stands-At-The-North-Wall chimed in, “it’s been prodding the lot of us. We sort of knew she was coming.”

  “And I was waiting in the wings,” the Spring Wind said. “The mantle wouldn’t push her towards something that it hadn’t been setting up. Rest assured she’ll be very safe when we draw her outside.” He took off his coat and hung it like Hema had then added, “that said. Good eve m’lady. I am the Spring Wind but will be using Mist for now.” He set a hand on his chest and bowed to Robin.

  Robin’s lips twitched upright and she said, “you’re still grounded for the rest of the month Hema. You know the rules about leaving the town.”

  Hema wilted, walked over to a reed mat by the fire and sat with a flop. “I know but-,”

  “No buts. You are in control not the mantle, and you should not let it dictate your actions to break rules that are there for your own safety. I don’t care if it’s aligning the stars to keep you safe. Your teachers can come to you,” Robin said sharply.

  “Stretches-Highest won’t actually, but I can try talking him into it but,” Stands-At-The-North-Wall trailed off.

  “Wow Stretches-Highest is teaching you?” Ralool’s brown brows shot up and he said, “uh Robin dear. I’d kill for a lesson from him, giving a little here might be a good idea. I can escort her back and forth or something.”

  “I intend to fly her,” Mist said.

  “That’s not the point Ral,” Robin said. “He’s waited this long, he can wait another month. Or show up here if he really wishes to teach her swiftly.”

  “I will talk to him for you,” Stands-At-The-North-Wall said. “She’s still your daughter and he’ll understand the necessity of her bowing to your authority.”

  “Thank you,” Robin said.