They were still more than a day away from the Wind Bones camp when Kellen spotted the mighty, swirling mass of multi-colored lightning and ominous gray and purple clouds churning like a gaping wound in the distant sky. Squinting, he made out a slate gray, skyscraper-like shape below them. Thought he could not make out details over the long distance, it could only be the totem of the Storm Horse.

He marveled at its growing size with every mile that passed. If the totem had been a building, it would have equaled or surpassed the greatest towers on Earth. What first appeared as a scattering of spikes poking up around the base of the Great Horse were the rock pillars known as the Wind Bones. Even these were as high as any of the Tall Spears spread across the plains. Actually, they seemed similar. When Kellen asked Nokom about this, she told him the Wind Bones were just a concentrated collection of Tall Spears in the corner of the Thunder Plains.

“It is a sacred site, full of strong mana,” Nokom said. “Here our mightiest tribes make camp year round. Though we are a nomadic people and range in the summer, they keep a permanent camp among the Wind Bones at the feet of the Great Horse.”

As the day progressed and they drew closer, the massive totem, the herds of bison, antelope, deer and wild horses thinned, replaced by other groups of Storm Horse people, traveling toward the great camp. They dotted the rolling hills to the left and right of Gray Dawn, all moving toward the looming totem and its tempest.

Most, Kellen noted, were far larger than their tiny band, consisting of lines of horses of both varieties pulling sleds of supplies, tents, buffalo robes and other necessities. Children and scrawny, coyote-like mutts laughed and barked as they darted around the edge of the plodding horses and their riders. Bright colored flags and strips of cloth bearing all sorts of symbols fluttered in conjured breezes that kept them flying in the perfect direction to display their banners to all they passed.

Based on the number of people around them, Professor Gates estimated there were thousands of the Storm Horse converging on the Wind Bones and the Great Horse. The sight was impressive enough, but when combined with the myriad of Beastcallers and Mana Beasts, it became a spectacle like no other.

Several Chieftain strength Beastcallers and Mana Beasts raced across the grasslands and coursed through angry skies, leaving streams of rainbows, flashes of crackling lightning or beautiful wind songs in their wake. They saw several winged horses of various colors, including a gorgeous paint and a buckskin that flew in tandem, looping through the cloud-strewn sky. Mana Beast coyotes, hares, antelope, six-legged horses, elk with sweeping, electric antlers all passed at a distance around them, with more oddities, colors, glowing auras and impossible mana-enhancements than Kellen could have ever listed.

The humans did their best to show off even with the help of their Mana Beasts, racing by of thunder-booming clouds the size of Persian rugs, balancing atop twisting tornadoes and racing above of the grass as if they weighed nothing. In a passing flash, Kellen swore he spotted a woman riding a dancing, crackling lightning bolt like a surfboard.

“Your mouth is going to stick like that if you don’t close it.”

Kellen snapped his mouth shut, almost as surprised by Shani as he had the entire brilliant display of Beastcallers and Mana Beasts.

“Did you just make a joke?”

She smirked and rode up alongside him. Vex and Inferi raced ahead of the band, apparently getting along enough to play a game of tag.

“What do you make of all that?” she asked, pointing up at the swirling, boiling mass of clouds hovering over like the totem of the Great Horse.

“I don’t know about prophecies and signs of doom,” Kellen said. “And I’m definitely no meteorologist but that storm doesn’t look good.”

It took a moment of Shani’s quizzical look for Kellen to realize where he’d confused her. “Sorry. A meteorologist is a person that can tell you what will happen with the weather.”

To Kellen’s surprise, she nodded as if this made perfect sense. “We have Beastcallers like that. Some can even control the weather, summon a rain storm, drive away a blizzard, quiet the winds, call a tornado.”

“Our aren’t quite that reliable,” Kellen laughed. “But yeah, same idea. Why was Tama so against coming here? You know, aside from the giant hurricane.”

“She is worried the band will fall apart. The Storm Horse tribes are made up of those who have the most power and can hold it. I think you can tell that Gray Dawn is only a shell of what is once was. Most bands have dozens of people in them. The largest tribes have thousands. They also have many Beastcallers. At a gathering like this, it would be easier for our people to find a stronger, more powerful chief that would take them in. Yet without the protection of a larger tribe like the Goroshu, we are an easy target among such powerful groups, even during times of peace. ”

“So, what’s the problem?” Kellen asked. Shani’s eyes flashed, and he knew right away it was the wrong question.

“My grandfather, Nokom’s husband, was chief before Tama, and my great-grandfather before him, and my great-great-grandmother before them. Tama does not want to be the chief that saw the end of our band.”

When she put it that way, Kellen understood. When times got hard and expenses went up, his dad sometimes talked about selling their farm, even though it had been in the family since his great-great-grandfather Gustaf Lars immigrated to America and homesteaded the place. Tama was in the same boat.

“Sorry,” Kellen said. “Dumb question. When you put it that way, I understand.”

“I wish I could do more!” Shani said, suddenly and with a savage intensity. “If Inferi and I were more powerful, things would be different.”

Now the first dam had burst, Shani’s words kept flowing. “My hatred for Ubira drove her to awaken the way she did. It cursed us.”

An oppressive feeling settled over them. On her otherwise stony face, Kellen thought he saw Shani blink back a tear . He didn’t know what to say. He had no answer and couldn’t in good conscious tell her she was wrong. Nobody knew.

“Shadow mana isn’t bad or evil,” Kellen said. “It’s just different.”

“It isn’t the mana,” Shani said. “At times, I feel this burning rage in her that I can’t control. It is a fire that threatens to consume me too. It should not be like that. I thought when I killed Ubira and avenged my husband it would go away. Instead, all of that anger is inside her.”

Kellen scrambled for something comforting to say, stunned by Shani’s confession. “That doesn’t mean you’re bad or Inferi is bad. I’m still scared most of the time in this world. When the raiders attacked the camp, I was terrified. I thought those ice raptors were going to kill us. I wished I was anywhere else right before Raiqo and Skystrike saved us.”

“But you fought anyway.”

“Exactly. Being scared doesn’t make me a coward, just like being angry doesn’t make you bad. There’s a cliché saying where I’m from—”

“Was Cliché a wise person?” Shani asked.

Kellen let out a dry laugh. “No, it means… overused, I guess you could say. Lots of people share this wisdom, which makes it seem less wise. Anyway, the saying goes, there are two wolves inside of us. One represents all the good things a person can do, and one represents all the bad things. You can’t get rid of either one of them and they constantly fight with one another. But you get to decide which one wins.”

“How is that?”

“Your actions. The things you do make one or the other stronger. That’s the one that wins.”

“I like that story,” Shani said. “But it is harder than it sounds. Is this story of yours, you can never kill the bad wolf, can you? You can only make the other one strong enough to beat it.”

“Something like that. You keep feeding the good one and it’s easier for him to win.” Kellen shrugged. “Eventually.”

“Strength always seems to be the answer.” Shani stared off into the distance and though they rode next to each other, she felt a thousand miles away. “Bah,” she said, shaking her head. “This talk is for old ones sitting around the fire.

Just then, Tama called for Shani. Kellen found himself a little disappointed knowing their conversation had come to a close. She whistled for Inferi. “Keep what I said between us.”

“I promise,” Kellen said. It hadn’t sounded like a request. He felt he should say something else but what help could he offer? “It was a good talk.”

“It was,” she agreed. Beneath her war paint and jagged scar, Kellen thought he caught a glimpse of the girl she’d once been and the woman she could have become if life had been kinder. “It is too bad you cannot fight as good as you talk!”

With that, she nudged her storm horse and rode away.

The closer they got to the outskirts of the Wind Bones camp, the more Kellen realized how down on their luck Gray Dawn really was in comparison to the other bands and tribes. As the traveling groups drew closer together, their displays of power and wealth grew more and more defined.

Riding at the heads of their columns, great chieftains and Beastcallers displayed fanciful jewelry: shining masks, glowing headdresses, elegant tattoos and mana-infused facial paints, bands of turquoise, silver and other precious metals that pulsed with unknown markings. Their Mana Beasts and storm horses were decked out just as much. Kellen spotted a massive smoky-gray buffalo Mana Beast with tiny fluttering blue wings and long, twisting, curling horns. Its wings looked too tall to lift it off the ground and that was without the glass beads draped over it like some sort of living Christmas tree.

Kiypu snorted and shook his head. “Some things never change, little brother.” When Kellen asked what he meant, he gestured around at the elaborate parades all around them. “We like to show off our shiny things when we know everyone is looking.”

Kellen decided against pointing out that Kiypu had precious stones for eyes and golden teeth inset with jewels. He even stopped Vex from speaking their mind out loud with a sharp look.

Aside from the wardrobes and extravagant accessories, the chiefs showed their abundance in other ways, too. Some rode on great rolling wagon platforms, carrying fully assembled tents. Teams of bison, mules or horses numbering in the dozens pulled them. Behind the leaders, the rest of the tribe followed with sleds packed heavy with supplies, riders splitting off from the main group to move massive herds of horses out into the grasslands surrounding the stone spires. Kellen’s agricultural background made him wonder how long the winter feed could support thousands of horses. He’d yet to spot a nearby water source.

By comparison, Gray Dawn appeared as a speck of blandness in the midst of the opulence. Half of their number walked on foot and the few storm horses they had walked with little more pride than the weary ponies like Kellen’s Spirit. It only took a glance to see their scattered number had fallen on hard times. Fallen, then tripped when they’d tried to get up and landed face-first on even harder times.

There were a few other bands that looked less like a Fourth of July Parade exodus, but from what Kellen could see, Gray Dawn was the about the farthest from the belle of the ball as could be. He looked across at Tama and Nokom, who’d asked him to join them at the head of the group. Tama rode with her jaw set, staring straight ahead, shoulders tense. She looked ready to pick a fight at the slightest provocation. A nervous, angry energy radiated from her and all of their hunters and warriors, almost daring someone to confront them. Given their numbers and resources, Kellen hoped they could pass into the camp unnoticed between the larger tribes and their highfalutin entrances.

Given how much Kiypu’s spotty memory irritated him, and the fact it was partially his fault, Kellen sometimes felt guilty asking the mummy questions. His curiosity overcame his conscience.

“Do you remember ever being at a gathering this large?”

“Eh?” Kiypu stirred as if he’d been dozing off or maybe lost in thought. “No, but they are a common occurrence among the nomadic tribes, the Storm Horse and the Fire Bison I believe. There are some of the smaller nations, or used to be.”

“So once we’re all together, then what?” Vex asked. “They’ll have a big meeting just to agree that it’s bad that something happened to the Storm Horse?”

Kiypu gave a wheezing laugh. “You have a firm grasp of politics. Mostly, I think the Storm Horse wished to gather their power until word returns on the state of the other totems. If this is happening all over Oras, it is bad. But if it has only happened to a few of the Great Totems, that will leave those nations vulnerable.”

“How so?” They were still a few miles away from the Storm Horse and already it towered over them, a colossal being of unidentifiable gray material that seemed neither stone nor wood. The massive mare reared up on two legs, its front hooves flailing at the heavens, proud head tossed back, mane flowing behind as if lifted by an invisible wind.

“That is not some monument crafted by humans,” Kiypu said, pointing a withered finger at the Storm Horse. Our legends say the Great Totems are the gods themselves, trapped away after incurring the wrath of the Wild Mother. They are a massive source of mana, healing, protecting, energizing all life for miles around. You should feel the mana aura that totem miles away, just as surely as you feel the wind on your face or the heat of the sun.”

“But I haven’t noticed anything,” Kellen said. Focusing on his mana sense, he felt a literal whirlwind of individual mana from the sheer number of Beastcallers and Mana Beasts. But nothing of the power and magnitude Kiypu spoke of.

“Yes. It has faded. That is what scares them.”