We have finally made it to the Festival grounds. Eighteen days have elapsed since we left the village and I’m not sure if I’m raring to get going with our reason for travelling or dreading it. After all, from what Tarra and the other Pathwalkers who have been here before have said, it sounds like it’s going to be a series of tea-parties from hell and fighting for the reputation of my village.

  Though, I have to admit that the way the other samuran party reacted to Kalanthia a couple of days ago was rather funny – I wonder what kind of rumours they'll spread as a result. I sometimes forget how the samurans of my village used to view the huge nunda; seeing how warily the other village’s representatives approached our group reminded me. That particular group has been very careful not to offend us in any way ever since, and has in fact offered us plenty of carcasses on the route which, according to Tarra, means that they fully acknowledge us as the stronger party.

  Unfortunately, that’s also meant we’ve had to share those carcasses which hasn’t stopped being a painful experience. A useful one, though – I’m starting to get to grips with how to talk to other Pathwalkers, not needing Tarra’s mental messages quite so often to avoid offending them.

  I said goodbye to both Kalanthia and Raven a few hours ago – neither will be entering into the actual festival grounds, which I’m slightly disappointed about, although I know it’s for the best. They won’t be going too far away, though. Kalanthia has said that she’s going to continue greeting a few more Guardian beasts around the place, and Raven is probably going to meet up with others of his kind in some special place of theirs – lots of those around here, it seems.

  He seems a bit nervous about it, probably because he’s taking his hatchlings with him. Though I’ve been able to use the last eighteen days of travel to make progress with all three of the hatchlings – as well as Lathani and my own projects – they are still far from healed. Still, he’s a very protective father, so they’re probably safer with him than coming with me. We both agreed that it’s the best option.

  After all, it’s unlikely that I’m going to get much time to heal them over the next few days given what everyone has been telling me, and I wouldn’t want a samuran from another village getting the wrong ideas about them. Either wanting to kill and eat them, or if there is another tamer around, try to take them from me.

  Lathani is another question. I discussed the same thing with her and Kalanthia, but the little nunda was adamant about coming with me. She disdained the idea that she might be ‘stolen’ away and announced that if anyone tried to eat her, she’d eat them first. Kalanthia seemed to agree with her that it was unlikely with the kind of Bond that we have that any other tamer would be able to snatch her away from me. Our Bond, after all, is fully consensual which means it’s stronger than one which is unwilling on one side.

  She did have a quiet word with me afterwards about watching out for Lathani, but she seemed to be aware that I would be doing so anyway. I think she did the same with Bastet too, so Lathani has at least two pairs of eyes watching out for her. Four, actually, since I think Bastet enlisted Storm and Ninja to take care of their ‘sister’.

  Trouble is long gone – he travelled down with us in the first part, but at some point our route seemed to deviate from where he instinctively knew he needed to go so he left our group. I hope he’s OK. The Bond between us is quiet, the distance too far to even let emotions through. But it’s still there; if he dies, I know that I will feel it snap.

  “Alright everyone?” I ask quietly, but know that my whole party can hear me.

  A series of affirmations comes through either in grunt or mental message. Taking a deep breath, I step forward at the head of our group. Directly behind me is Shrieks as the top Warrior, and then the other Pathwalkers. The Warriors follow – as ever, in ranking order. Behind all the samurans come the rest of my Bound. Pride, Lathani, Bastet, Storm, Ninja, Fenrir, Thorn, Honey, and Komodo. Sirocco hops from branch to branch overhead and the two nameless cyrans bring up the rear with the cart, their guide the only samuran not with the rest of the group.

  There’s a wall of vegetation in front of us and I wonder for a moment how we’re supposed to get past it. And then Shrieks steps forwards and uses his spear to push it aside, revealing that it’s some sort of creeper hanging down from the branches above.

  Do not touch the leaves with your hands, he warns. They secrete a dangerous poison.

  “Alright,” I say, eyeing it carefully. “Is there any reason why we shouldn’t just burn our way through?” Aingeal floats forwards, bobbing in the air eagerly, always happy to join in pyromania.

  No! exclaim several voices. I look back at them in question.

  It is intentionally grown to protect our sacred spot, explains Shrieks. Two Warriors will hold it aside for everyone to pass.

  So saying, he beckons two of the Warriors forward and they break ranks to do just that, using their metal-tipped spears to part the curtain of small-leafed vines. I shrug and move forwards, leading the rest of the party.

  I’m very tempted to test how strong the poison is, but hold myself back for now. If it ends up being something I struggle to heal, I risk not making a very good first impression on the rest of the samurans.

  Past the curtain, I can’t help but pause to take in the sight, drawing in a breath of amazement. It’s certainly not what I was expecting.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  We haven’t really talked about the physical nature of the Festival; we’ve been more concentrating on the internal politics. If I thought about it, I was either expecting it to take place in the forest itself, or within a clearing.

  Well, this is definitely a clearing, and one so big that the other side is invisible through the mist. But it’s the hot springs which really draw my attention.

  Or at least, that’s what it appears to be: water bubbling and steaming in a massive central pool and then spilling into other pools lower down the mountainside.

  “What is this place?” I breathe, awed by the beauty – the hot springs are ringed with all sorts of different flowers and low-growing plants, and the water itself is clear and fresh. The mist gives the whole clearing a mysterious quality, though it’s thickest in the centre.

  It is our Festival grounds, our sacred place, replies Tarra, her mental tone a mixture of smug and appreciative.

  It’s beautiful, says River, echoing my own thoughts. Her voice has the same quiet awe which I feel. Looking at the other new Pathwalkers and Warriors, I see that they all feel the same way. Clearly, it’s something of a rite of passage to experience the Festival grounds for the first time, and none of the elders wished to spoil it by telling them what to expect.

  The moment passes and Tarra nudges me towards the left-hand side of the massive central pool.

  The green Tribe always sets up camp over there, she says, pointing towards a section of ground which seems like every other section of ground around the pool. When we get closer, though, I note that it’s surrounded by boulders and that there are dips in the earth which could easily have been from the travel shelters they usually construct.

  The Warriors get to work. I help out with my Earth-Shaping – it’s good practice and by this point I’m very familiar with the way they construct their temporary shelters.

  This one is slightly different though.

  We won’t use tree branches to cover the shelters, Poison explains as he outlines what we’re doing. We’ll build a roof of earth and then only cover the hole at the top of the roof with leaves which we can scavenge from some of the plants around here. The sacred place must remain sacred – bringing in trees from outside is forbidden. Well, far be it for me to argue with tradition – unless the tradition is actively detrimental, of course.

  Also unlike the travel shelters, we will be making four of them this time. We need more space, Poison continues to explain. Normally it would only be three: one for the Warriors, one for the Pathwalkers, and one for mating, but this time we also need one for your companions. The non-samuran ones, I guess he means.

  Once I know more of the actual dimensions – smaller than I’ve been helping them make, of course – I get to work, sinking my magic and consciousness into the earth and causing the earth to flow like water. What I remove to make the hole, I use to make the walls and ceiling. Familiar with the construction of the huts from the samuran village, I am able to finish two of them before the Warriors have completed the other two. Seeing as they’re almost done, I decide to let them finish up by themselves.

  The Pathwalkers haven’t been idle while we’ve been working, either – the cart has been unloaded and carcasses set out for the hungry workers to help themselves. The various items intended to be gifted to other villages are being organised by several of the Pathwalkers. They’ve also set out a number of hides in the area between the four huts.

  Though the samurans haven’t yet taken up tanning, I think I’m winning them over to the benefits of it since they seem to prefer sitting on the hides I’ve prepared instead of the cold, hard ground. Personally, I’m much more comfortable sleeping now on the sort of mattress I’ve managed to create for myself.

  Made out of spider-silk, filled with feathers from the killer chickens, and just over the length and width of my body, it’s heaven in comparison to the mess of clothes I was using as bedding before. I keep it in my Inventory so it is always available to me – and doesn’t risk getting destroyed or taken. Yes, I could make another one, but it took long enough to make this one. Plus, I don’t have enough feathers with me at the moment so I would need to get some more.

  Still, the samurans find it too comfortable, if River is anything to judge by. I suspect they might move to sleeping on hides soon, though.

  With our camp set up, I go over to Flower to find out what we should do next.

  Normally we aren’t here this early, she explains. This time I can only see about four or five other villages present. Normally, there are at least fifteen by the time we arrive.

  “How many villages are there in total?” I ask curiously, realising I’ve never actually questioned that.

  In total there are about twenty-three villages in four tribes, but usually only nineteen or twenty make it to the Festival.

  “Why wouldn’t some come?” I ask, confused. “Because of the danger of the journey?” Flower shrugs.

  That is often the reason. Sometimes if there are not enough Warriors to guard the Pathwalkers, it’s deemed too dangerous. We would have been in that position if you hadn’t been able to raise several Unevolved to Evolved. However, sometimes the village is already numerous enough and so they make the choice not to have any more hatchlings – there is a limit to what the local area can support and there is no point having hatchlings if they will just starve before reaching adulthood.

  I hadn’t considered the issue of over-population. I suppose that with the ratio of Evolved to Unevolved that I’ve noticed within my village, it could be an issue for the bigger villages.

  We should probably visit the other camps soon, but right now there is something else very important that we must do as part of settling in, Flower continues. Her spikes are flickering with green amusement, so I have a feeling she’s not being entirely serious.

  “And what’s that?” I ask her, going along with it.

  Bathing in the pools, of course! she exclaims. Several others around her let out a clicking grunt which doesn’t translate, but which I’ve noticed denotes excitement. Something like a whoop might from humans.

  Looking around, I can see that everyone is on board with the idea – and all of them are looking at me.

  May we? one of the Warriors asks, doing his best impression of a puppy dog’s eyes. Which never stops looking weird when coming from a humanoid crocodile. In this case, though, I just grin, their excitement catching.

  “Last one in’s a rotten egg,” I can’t help but dare them, turning and running towards the pool, the rest following me with more of those excited sounds.

  here!

  here!

  here