She came to slowly, the sun glaring down on her from nearly directly overhead. She was hot and could already feel the burn to her skin from too many hours exposed. When she opened her eyes, all she saw was brilliant pink light. It took Taleka far longer than she wanted to admit to understand what she was seeing. In fact, Dylasha had begun to move the wing over Taleka’s face before she realized. Gently, the young alsaian moved her companion’s wing off her face and tried to stand.

It felt like Taleka had melted into the grasses and her body was reluctant to form anything solid. Finally, she gave up, and lay for several long minutes on her stomach, collecting her scattered self. Something had ripped through the balance with a sound like a plucked bow, shattering what had passed for balance for nearly four centuries. Clearly this calamity, whatever it may be, was the reason the Kel were finally moving. Or so Taleka assumed.

When she found her voice, she croaked. “Dylasha, are you alright.” She could feel the Teller’s apprentice trembling next to her. She got no answer and finally managed to push herself up onto her hands and knees.

“Dylasha?” Her voice sounded more normal as she crawled on all fours until she could see her companion’s face. Taleka was horrified to see blood on the other apprentice’s face. She reached for the Weaves to pull healing magic into being, but found the Weave oddly resistant to her touch. Something inside Taleka went cold at that realization. The Weave seemed to have dodged out of her way, refusing to offer up the possibilities like it usually did. Had she become disconnected from the Weave?

At that moment, Dylasha’s eyes fluttered open and she sat up suddenly, slamming her head into Taleka’s nose. Both women screamed in pain. Taleka saw red spots blotting out her vision and couldn’t stop the tears from flowing to her eyes.

Dylasha was crying from both the pain and likely from fear. “What happened Taleka?”

“The balance has tipped.” The Weaver’s apprentice answered quietly as she stood up, brushing off her knees. “For some reason the Weave is resisting my touch.”

“What?” Fear had filled Dylasha’s dark brown eyes and her wings hung limply at her back. “We have to go back and speak with the Grandmothers, this changes everything.”

Taleka dusted off her hands, looking down at Dylasha and studying her for a moment in silence. “It changes everything and nothing at all, Dylasha.” She said at length, a determined look in her yellowish eyes. “We should indeed warn the Grandmothers.” She looked southwest toward their original destination. She was quiet for a long moment before she seemed to make a decision.

“You go back, Dylasha. Warn the Grandmothers and make sure everyone in the Dahls are safe. I’m going on.”

“Alone?” Dylasha asked, her tone awed. It was never a question to her once Taleka offered her a way out of this mission. She had never dreamed of leaving Alsais, never wanted to. She was no adventurer, no traveler. She wasn’t brave or extraordinary. She was just a solid little story teller.

“I’ll be fine. The Others aren’t all bad, or so the tellings say.”

“It’s true. There are many tellings of Others from before the First Tear.”

“I will go then and make more.”

“When you return, Taleka, I will proudly learn your tellings that our people may never forget.”

Talkea smiled at that and hugged Dylasha tightly. As soon as she let go she let her wings take her skyward, waving. If she lingered she may lose her nerve. The young apprentice turned away from Dylasha and Alsais in general and continued south toward Zephyr Lake.