Kaad was dead. Once again, I’d come a hair’s breadth away from dying. If it hadn’t been for the Healing Water spell, I’d be dead now. Trading the magic dagger for it was the right decision. I shook the thought away. There’d be time to reflect on what happened later.

My hands shook as I searched for the key to the children’s chains. Some of that was due to adrenaline, but I’d also just killed two people. The weight of that pushed down on me, but I resisted. There were circumstances--

“Come on, Ollie,” I muttered. “Not now. Just focus.” I took a steadying breath and kept looking for the key. It turned out to be on a necklace around Kaad’s neck.

The children were wary of my approach. I didn’t blame them--I was covered in Kaad’s blood.

Billisha was nine or ten years old, with skin the color of tea, hazel eyes, and black hair that’d been chopped short with a knife. The boy Aluali was a year younger and hid behind her, blank-faced. They weren’t siblings--Aluali was stockier, his face wider, his nose longer--but from the way they stood, I could tell they relied on each other. Both looked ready to bolt.

“Biluu kuse pappashi zhileete.” Billisha’s voice was hoarse. She nudged Aluali behind her.

He closed his eyes and gulped. The fear and anxiety returned to his face, as he let go of Meliune’s Blessing. “Biluu kuse pappashi zhileete.” Once the words were out, he went blank-faced again.

Billisha offered her left arm to me. Her hands trembled. I noticed two thin parallel scars across the meat of her forearm. Aluali did the same, but his forearm had seven scars.

“Pappash zhilee ghathe denn.” Billisha paused to take a breath. “Denn Denn sei sei.” She searched the ground and found a sharp-ish rock. When I realized she intended to use it to cut her forearm, I grabbed it out of her hand.

I spoke softly, as if calming a wounded animal. “I don’t need you to prove you're human. I already know. Now let me just get these chains off. It's okay. I promise I won’t hurt you.”

The words didn’t matter--I knew Billisha and Aluali didn’t understand English. But that was okay. They were just to give the children something to focus on.

Once the chains were unlocked, I stepped back to give them space. There was a chance they’d immediately run, so I kept up a running patter and made sure my hands were empty of weapons.

I waved them over to the first aid kit. The children had abrasions and bruises from the chains. There were cuts and scratches from stumbling through the woods. Apparently, the injuries didn’t matter though. Given permission to move, Billisha rushed to the fire to dig through Boscun’s pack for food. Well, there was a gaping hole in my belly too, so I helped myself to the venison jerky she found.

What a sight we must’ve been--three children ravenously tearing into jerky beside the corpses of two men. Still, the food helped calm my shakes. The children too. They seemed more settled, although still afraid and uncertain. I caught Aluali peeking at me from behind Billisha.

“Ahoth,” Billisha said, and then a bunch of words that ran together in my ears. The language was flowy and relied heavily on soft vowels and consonants. There were exceptions though, and when those hard sounds came, they stood like pillars.

I spoke a few words in English to show them again that I didn’t speak their language. The way they quirked their heads in confusion reminded me of a certain otter. The children spoke to each other softly, trying to figure me out.

Billisha asked me a question, and frowned when I responded once more in English. Aluali made a suggestion, and she pointed to her neck and then at me. She mimed a collar and chain.

“Ah, no. I’m not an escaped slave.” Although I could see how she might’ve thought so, with me being on my own in the forest.

Aluali made another suggestion, and she mimed shooting an arrow.

I nodded. “Yes, I’m a hunter.” My bow was with my pack. The children’s eyes rounded in surprise when I retrieved my gear from where it’d been hidden.

Billisha started to ask more questions, but I stopped her. We couldn’t stay here--eventually scavengers would come for the bodies and I needed to deal with the crisis at Ikfael Glen. My favorite otter’s wellbeing was very much uncertain.

I left the kids by the fire in order to search the camp for anything that might be useful. The children went quiet as they watched. I felt the same watchfulness inside me, from the uekisheile. Fortunately, the lichen was patient and listened to my request to stay hidden.

Between them, Boscun and Kaad had:

Two spears, one seven feet long and the other nine feet. Two hunting knives, similar to the one carried by Woldec. Two stilettos. They resembled spikes more than knives; designed to penetrate the gaps between armor. These were the weapons Boscun and Kaad used to fight each other. A war axe on a two-foot haft. A big sword, similar to a zweihander. Two sets of brigandine, one of which had a rent in the side. Two helmets. One had a face that closed to protect the mouth. The other was open, but had a nose guard. A warbow six feet long. I wasn’t strong enough to string it, even after infusing my muscles with qi. If I had to guess, the draw was probably between 180 and 200 pounds. It was a monster. Two dozen arrows. Half of the arrowheads were designed for piercing armor. The other half were meant for unarmored flesh. All the shafts were thick and barreled near the fletching to handle the warbow’s force. They were too heavy and too long for my bow, unfortunately. Miscellaneous camping gear, including blankets, bedrolls, pots, pans, and rope. Miscellaneous consumables, including the food and the medicines in the first aid kit. Heaven help me, I almost cried when I found a pouch of salt. There were also dried beans, peas, corn, salted meat, and venison jerky. A single small silver coin, which I found secreted away in a leather pouch strapped to Kaad’s left armpit. Whether the location had meaning or it was just his special hiding place, I had no idea.

Neither of them had Candle Stones or Firestarters. There was also a lack of quality to all their things. The weapons were nicked and pitted. The metal plates in the brigandine were wrought iron instead of steel. The clothes were many-times patched. Even so, I wanted it all. Everything here could be made useful.

I stacked what I wanted to bring with me near the children--the blankets, bedrolls, food, first aid kit, and camping gear. The rest I hid away from the camp. I’d come back to retrieve it later, when it was safe to do so. The children waited for me, whispering to each other.

Eventually, there was only one thing left to do--to take Boscun and Kaad’s cores--but I worried about the children’s reaction. Well, they’d not reacted badly when Kaad cut Boscun’s core from his body. I should just collect the cores, and if they recoiled, then I’d know that I stumbled on a taboo.

I drew my hunting knife and made a hand-long incision in Kaad’s chest. The body was still warm. My fingers wriggled around inside until...okay, there it was. I drew the core out. It was the size of a small marble, smaller than Boscun’s, which still lay by the fire.

I snuck a peek at the kids, and they watched me intently. After a moment’s hesitation, Billisha kneeled. Aluali was slow to follow, so she tugged on his shirt to get his attention. When he saw what she was doing, he quickly followed. Then they both put their hands over their hearts and bowed their heads. Their actions smelled of ritual, of ceremony.

“Ahoth,” they said together. “Biluu diakashen den wiloo et biliase dendeneise.” Then they waited for me.

I guessed at what came next and cracked the cores. Neither of them flinched. If anything, they looked relieved. Ah, so they knew that there was a choice between taking the whole core or just the silverlight.

I absorbed Kaad’s silverlight first.

54 silverlight gathered. 49 absorbed.

I thanked the uekisheile for honoring our agreement and not being greedy.

Next came Boscun’s silverlight. The grains were clumped together, the size of a pea, but slightly denser than any of the others I’d found.

87 silverlight gathered. 79 absorbed.

I hadn’t felt much after Kaad’s silverlight; just a wisp of frustration, of constantly reaching for that which was out of reach. But with Bosun’s, there was a feeling of weathering a storm; of being lashed by the elements, but pushing ahead, a step at a time. There was hope for finding something ahead. There was hope for protecting something behind.

Rich-bitter. Strong-stubborn. Delicious-not/delicious.

I acknowledged the uekisheile’s observation, the echo of Boscun’s lonely struggle still reverberating through me. Neither of the two men likely lived easy lives.

“Rest now,” I said to them. “Lay down your spite and your rage. They will not serve you. Lay down your spite and your rage. They will only weigh you down. A third time, I say unto you, lay down your spite and your rage. Let them go and find your way to peace instead.”

I didn’t remember the words exactly as mi abuela taught them--just how often does a person have to worry about angry spirits? But they were close enough. The important thing was the repetition of the entreaty. She always said, “Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is intention.”

The children were confused by my actions. While breaking the cores was familiar, they seemed to expect more from the ritual. Well, I didn’t know anything about funeral services on this world. It’d just have to do.

When I stood up, they hurriedly chanted, “Biluu diakashen den billu wildwae denseise sendwatei.”

Billisha asked, “Dilwei?” She pointed to the fire. “Dilwei?”

“Dilwei,” I said, pointing to the fire.

“De, de,” she said, nodding. “Dilwei.” Then she mimed picking up the fire and placing it on the bodies. “Menesei dwesane te dilwei awrawarua de.”

Did they normally cremate their dead? That’d make sense in a world where the undead were a thing.

I shook my head and made gestures for the sun traveling through the sky and us moving away. The signs were the ones Ikfael Glen and I used. She’d come up with a number of handy gestures, so that we didn’t have to improvise every time we talked.

Billisha, startled, said, “Dah!” She repeated my gestures and then added the ones for “hurry” and “question.”

But how did she--

Communication, Nonverbal -> 4

Communication, Trade Sign -> 2

Literacy, Diaksh -> 2

A notification popped up for three new Skills, one of which was Trade Sign. No wonder that rascally otter had been so good at pantomime. It was probably more pidgin than language, but we’d been able to communicate the basics.

Billisha, meanwhile, clearly struggled to remember what she’d been taught of the Trade Sign. The gestures came out hesitantly. Partway through, she began to cry, which triggered tears from Aluali. In moments, I had two sobbing children. They’d been brave for so long. Of course, they’d cry once the pressure was off.

Unfortunately, I only recognized a few out of the dozens of signs: hunt, fight, kill, run, transport, and barter. It was enough though to know that their families were likely gone. That they’d traveled far away from home. I wanted to give them time to grieve, but time was short. I waited as long as I could, but eventually, I had to shush them. With a soft voice and gestures, I encouraged them to follow me.

I put the helmets on their heads and asked them to carry the blankets and bedrolls. They sniffled, while they waited for me to put the rest of the gear into my backpack. Once we left camp, the children went silent. Someone, somewhere had taught them how to move through the woods. The rest of the trek was short and uneventful.

The view from the top of the escarpment was magnificent. A few billowy clouds lingered in the sky, their shadows slowly sailing across the land below them. The children’s jaws dropped appropriately. That amazement turned into horror when I showed them the narrow path down to the cave. We were a thousand feet up after all.

Billisha said something, which sounded a lot like, “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously.”

The kids looked at each and gulped. Aluali said something, to which Billisha shrugged. Then she said something, and it was Aluali’s turn to shrug.

Billisha said, “Meliune.” And both children went blank-faced. They turned to me like automatons and waited. All their emotions, all their humanity disappeared with a flip of the Blessing switch. It was more than a little creepy.

How much practice was needed to be able to do that? Was it because they’d been enslaved, or were all children trained to use Meliune’s Blessing to overcome their fear? I could see how it’d be useful in crisis situations, the equivalent of earthquake drills or shelter in place.

I wasn’t willing to risk them walking down the path carrying anything, so I had them put down their burdens. I’d come back to get them myself. Once they were ready, neither Billisha or Aluali hesitated at all. They followed me down to the cave. When they got to the entrance, I pulled them inside.

The children immediately tried to bolt, but I enchanted my body in preparation and locked them down. I dragged them over to the chliapp lioni’s carcass and kicked it. Once they saw it was dead, skinned, and gutted, they flopped down on the ground relieved.

Meliune’s Blessing lifted, like a theater curtain. Immediately the children chattered with each other.

“Oh my god. That was so scary. I thought it was a live chliapp lion, and it was going to eat us.”

“I know, right? Too scary. What’s this crazy boy doing dragging us to places like this, where lions live. Maybe we made a mistake. Maybe we should run away when he’s not looking.”

“Wait, why is it skinned and gutted? You don’t think he did it, do you? He killed a lion and Boscun and Kaad? You don’t think he has a path do you? That he’s--gulp--level 1.”

Obviously, the children didn’t say any of those things. It sure did sound similar though, and I recognized the names of the slavers, as well as the lion.

While the children were fascinated by the carcass, I told them to wait for me and made several trips to retrieve the gear at the top of the escarpment and collect firewood. Having a proper axe--even if it wasn’t meant for trees--made it so easy. I was moved. Truly moved.

I brought enough wood down to last through the night. I also gave each child a knife and an axe, and entrusted the firestarter to Billisha. Her eyes went wide when I put it into her hands.

“I go,” I gestured. “Safe here. Water there. Eat lion. I return night.”

The kids were scared and confused. I’d saved them, and now I was leaving them. I reassured them of my return, but the skepticism on their faces was obvious. Halfway through my attempted explanation, Aluali invoked Meliune’s Blessing. He sat in the corner to wait, while Billisha dealt with me.

“You danger go? Us danger here? When you return? How many hours?” Her hands started to tremble, her signs becoming awkward. “No. Not go. Danger bad. Safe good. Safe good.”

“Safe good,” I gestured, “but I safe,” and here I paused--there wasn’t a sign for friend that I knew. I pointed to Aluali and then her, bringing the two fingers together. I pointed to myself and then someone in the forest below and brought my fingers together. “I safe,” I signed, pointing toward Ikfael Glen. “I safe them.”

To that, Billisha didn’t have a response. She just quietly nodded, and signed, “Yes.” Then she sat next to Aluali and went blank-faced.

“I return,” I signed.

When I left them, they were staring into space. They could’ve been mannequins, except Billisha’s hand snuck over to hold Aluali’s hand.