 
Sally Startup

Hearing the Forest

Bees' Nest Books

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events in this story are fictitious, and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.

Smashwords edition published 2019 by Bees' Nest Books

Copyright 2019 Sally Startup

The right of Sally Startup to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

Smashwords edition, License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share the book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE – ROCK

CHAPTER TWO – WILLOW

CHAPTER THREE – ROCK

CHAPTER FOUR – WILLOW

CHAPTER FIVE – ROCK

CHAPTER SIX – WILDCAT

CHAPTER SEVEN – HEST

CHAPTER EIGHT – WILLOW

CHAPTER NINE – ROCK

CHAPTER TEN – WILLOW

CHAPTER ELEVEN – WILDCAT

CHAPTER TWELVE – WILLOW

CHAPTER THIRTEEN – WILDCAT

CHAPTER FOURTEEN – HEST

CHAPTER FIFTEEN – WILLOW

CHAPTER SIXTEEN – ROCK

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN – WILLOW

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN – ROCK

CHAPTER NINETEEN – WILLOW

CHAPTER TWENTY – ROCK

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE – WILLOW

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO – ROCK

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE – WILDCAT

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR – WILLOW

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE – ROCK

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX – WILLOW

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN – HEST

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT – WILLOW

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE – ROCK

CHAPTER THIRTY – WILLOW

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE – ROCK

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO – HEST

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE – WILLOW

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR – ROCK

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE – WILLOW

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX – HEST

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN – ROCK

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT – WILLOW

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE – HEST

CHAPTER FORTY – ROCK

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE – WILLOW

Hearing the Forest

ONE – ROCK

It was a very strange looking plant. Every part of it curled. Twisting roots, twirled trunk, spiralling branches. Twigs wound around themselves. Even the leaves appeared to kink into spirals. The uprooted tree completely filled one harvest wagon.

Rock sat astride one of the Wanderers' horses and had a good view of the harvest run. All the Wanderers had left the Great Forest Road in order to wait for the Harvesters to pass by.

There only looked to be around forty or fifty Harvesters, with just six harvest wagons. Rock estimated the number of adult Wanderers to be somewhere close to a hundred and fifty. They had ten large wagons between them, as well as numerous other carts. Also, many horses, goats, chickens, and two friendly crows. Nevertheless, the whole lot of them had moved aside. The harvest run was obviously returning from the Forest to the Spice City. The Wanderers needed to go in the opposite direction without attracting any more attention than necessary.

"Willow!" Rock called out. "Look at that tree."

"I think it must be a crewel tree," she answered. "Is its trunk curled, too? I can only see leaves and twigs from down here."

From his seat above her, Rock noticed how Willow's brown hair showed hints of gold in the sunlight. She wore a green-dyed linen skirt and blouse. Raising her chin to look at him, she chewed her bottom lip, frowning.

"It is," Rock confirmed. "And we're safe. Don't worry. Those Harvesters don't know who we are. And we're hidden in the middle of all these Wanderers."

"I can smell the harvest from here," Willow complained, not really sounding convinced by his reassurances. "Our horses must be terrified by it."

Rock did not contradict her. He could tell she was right. And he also knew the animals were aware of those other horses out on the road, who pulled six wagons filled with huge baskets of uprooted plants and slaughtered creatures.

Three of the Wanderer horses were in Rock's care that day. The one he was riding, and the pair who were hitched to a small wagon belonging to the healer, Innamarrit.

A sound came from the wagon, causing him to look back towards it. The healer was busy elsewhere, but Willow's friend, Wildcat, was supposed to be sleeping inside. Wildcat now climbed out to the driving seat. She tried to reach forward and touch one of the horses in front of her. It gave a forceful shake of its head, making her lean back suddenly.

Rock smiled. He and Wildcat were both animal talkers. The horse had just told her off sharply for not resting her wounded shoulder. She was recovering from a stab wound that might easily have killed her.

Returning his attention to Willow, he said, "Why don't you get up next to Wildcat? There's a better view and you can make her rest properly."

As Willow climbed up to the wagon seat, he caught sight of her expression and thought she must now be _listening_ to the captured tree.

"The fibres inside crewel trees start in their roots and go all the way out to the twigs," she said just then, proving him correct. "That would be why those Harvesters haven't chopped it up. They'll have to soak the whole tree in a river for moons after it's dead to rot the fibres out whole."

Rock was having to twist round uncomfortably in order to face her.

"If we could take that tree to the Forest and replant it, we might save it," she continued, "but I don't think it would survive anywhere near here. It needs the company of all kinds of other tiny plants and animals that only live in forest soil."

"We've got the Green to take back," he reminded her. "We can't rescue the whole harvest, as well." Rescuing the Green was likely to be difficult enough on its own.

The tree did puzzle him, though. Getting it out of the ground with some of its roots intact must surely have been very slow and careful work. The harvest of the Forest was usually done as fast as possible. Straightening to face forwards again, he watched the Harvesters.

The six harvest wagons on the road were being pulled by teams of the big, heavy-legged horses normally used for hauling machinery. Rock knew a full harvest run would have at least twenty wagons, including some so large they needed teams of bullocks to pull them. On a full run, timber-workers would cut up felled trees for transporting as great heavy planks. The coin those planks were worth in the city justified all the effort, but the wagons required to carry them were enormous.

Rock suspected the six smaller wagons ahead belonged to a clean-up team. If that was so, then the rest of their run could already be back in the city. These Harvesters would have stayed behind in the Forest, gathering up the final leavings. Yet, something as valuable as a crewel tree would normally be taken up right at the start of a harvest and carried home with the main run.

The lead harvest wagon had now come right alongside the place where the Wanderers had stopped. As Rock studied the harvest workers walking behind it, he continued trying to imagine how a clean-up team might get hold of a crewel tree.

He was suddenly distracted by loud shouting, coming from somewhere at back of the line of harvest wagons. It sounded like some of the workers were calling for those ahead of them to stop.

For one sickening instant, Rock feared the Harvesters might somehow know about the twenty-three Green hidden inside the Wanderers' own largest wagon. His mount shuddered and lifted its ears in sympathy. Rock's skin felt suddenly cold and his fingers tightened against the reins in his hands.

The Green had once been stolen from their forest homes by Harvesters. Rock's own father, Capability Reader, had been involved in their capture. Rock was now helping to take the Green to the Forest before Capability decided to try and get them back again.

The Harvesters out on the Great Forest Road were returning from a run that would have lasted at least a half moon, probably much longer. They could not possibly know about recent events in the Spice City. There was no way they could have recognised the significance of the group of Wanderers who had stopped to let them go by.

So far, neither Willow nor Wildcat appeared to be scared by the commotion on the road. They were both watching it with interest.

The whole line of harvest wagons came to a halt. Then Rock was able to see that it was the crewel tree causing the hold-up. Not anything to do with the Wanderers at all. He let out a long, slow breath.

The tree had obviously begun to slide dangerously sideways, tilting the bed of its wagon. Several harvest workers ran forward to try and right the unbalanced load. They did not seem able to prevent the tree from slipping further. Baskets of other harvest that had been packed around it had shifted, too. One lay on its side on the ground, spilling out stones and wilted plants.

Rock tried to reach out to the crewel tree using his own limited tree speaking talent. He was too far away to find out much. Even Willow found tree speaking difficult when she was not in physical contact with the plant she was talking to.

He thought the crewel tree might have let its bark contract sharply and allowed some of its roots to uncurl. The subtle movement could have been just enough to cause the trunk to start sliding off the wagon. Rock wondered if the tree was attempting to escape the Harvesters and join the Green.

"Bull's balls!" he said out loud. "I think the Green encouraged it. Don't they understand we're supposed to be getting away before the city elders come after us?"

"That tree's in just as much trouble as the Green," Willow replied quietly, from behind him. "So's all the rest of the harvest in those wagons."

"We can't take all of it back to the Forest, Willow, you know that."

"Yes, I do know that." She continued to speak softly, probably still in contact with the tree at the same time. "It's all still suffering, though. Plants don't feel afraid in the same way people do, but they know this damage is too big for the normal sort of healing. The tree can't help wanting to go back."

"Let the Harvesters reload their wagon and move on," Wildcat interrupted. Her voice sounded sharp and hard compared to Willow's.

Rock agreed with Wildcat, yet he was surprised at her coldness. "I thought you'd be on the side of the Green," he said, turning to look at her.

"The Green will understand." She tilted her head back and closed her eyes.

Out of the three of them, Wildcat was best at communicating with the Green, even though anyone with a talent could hear them to some extent.

Sometimes, though, Rock wished she would stop making it sound like she was the only one the Green ever _talked_ with. It was true she had risked her life to protect them. However, Rock and Willow had risked almost as much, and would do the same again if necessary.

"I don't think they really know why the tree is here," Wildcat added, more thoughtfully. She had opened her eyes again and was now watching the road. "I'll explain the danger to them. Letting Harvesters catch the Green again isn't going to save the tree."

Just then, a loud bang shook the ground, rattling all the pots and tools and decorations hanging from the Wanderers' carts and wagons. Afterwards, Rock could hear Wanderers exclaiming in surprise, and a great deal of loud swearing from the Harvesters on the road. It was hard to see exactly what had happened, but the harvest wagon was clearly broken.

"Fizzing mud holes!" Wildcat swore. "Now those dung-lickers are stuck right in our way."

Rock understood her impatience. The area where the Wanderers had been forced to stop provided no grazing for their animals. It was obvious that many travellers had already camped there, so that no plants at all grew underfoot. The ground was dirt and dust for quite some distance. It was important to move on to somewhere greener as soon as possible.

"Yes, fizzing, fizzing mud holes!" a cheerful voice suddenly repeated.

A Wanderer girl had come to stand beside Innamarrit's wagon. She was tall, and pale skinned. A blue design like a feather decorated one side of her neck. She wore a furred short cloak over an embroidered blouse. A string of glass beads and tiny metal bells was looped through the fastening of the cloak. Rock knew the girl as Flight, although that was only a translation of the word that was her name in the Wanderers' own language.

Some older Wanderers used their untranslated names in the presence of non-Wanderers. Innamarrit's name meant 'ice river', and yet no one bothered calling her that for the benefit of strangers. Younger Wanderers were different. They always chose to translate their names for non-Wanderers. When Rock had asked why, he had been told it helped them make new friends more easily.

Flight had already become particularly friendly with Wildcat. She came near Innamarrit's wagon often. The Wanderer girl seemed especially keen to learn new curses. And Wildcat seemed very happy to pass on her best ones.

"Stupid bog maggots. Slime-pissers," Flight said now, pointing toward the Harvesters. "Tree not packed right."

Looking up at Rock, she winked at him. "Wildcat," Flight added, "grow your arm better soon. Then you can pair-ring dance with Ear Music."

Ear Music was a Wanderer boy, whom Flight claimed was in love with Wildcat. Having teased Wildcat about this, Flight immediately ran off again, laughing as she went. Within moments she was hidden beyond several other parked-up carts and wagons.

Wildcat said nothing, and Rock had no idea if she was offended or embarrassed. She had seemed to enjoy talking to Ear Music, but that had been before she was stabbed.

Turning his attention back to the Harvesters, Rock saw that many of them now appeared to be looking in the Wanderers' direction.

"They're going to come over," observed Wildcat. "Do you think they'll ask nicely for help? I want to hear what they say. Let's go nearer the road."

"No." Rock twisted back round to face her. "You have to rest. You can't go sneaking closer to the road. But if you promise me you'll stay here with Willow, I'll go and listen, then I'll come back and tell you everything, word for word." As his eyes met Willow's, he added, "I won't let the Harvesters see me."

Willow gave him a faint smile. "Go on then," she said. "Wildcat, you know I can't manage the horses on my own when they're worried. I need you to stay here with me."

Although Wildcat sighed, she did not argue with them out loud.

So Rock dismounted. Before leaving, he requested the horse to stay beside the wagon and _listen_ to Wildcat. Then he made his way through more parked wagons and carts until he reached the edge of the road. There were a considerable number of Wanderers already gathered there, quietly watching the Harvesters.

Rock caught sight of Young Timber, bare chested as usual, except for his necklaces of beads and tokens. Young Timber's two-horse team and wagon were nearby. The Wanderer man acknowledged Rock with a friendly nod and pointed to the horses.

Understanding at once, Rock went to stand beside the two animals. He was now hidden from anyone on the road, but could easily see what went on.

Young Timber then walked out towards the Harvesters.

"Hey!" one of them called out, on catching sight of him. "Are you in charge? We need a new wagon."

Rock guessed this Harvester was probably the work leader, paid just a bit more than the common harvest workers. His clothes were as rough and dirty as those of all the others, but his stance was different. And the other harvest workers watched him, even those standing some distance away.

Work leaders and harvest workers generally travelled on foot and lived outdoors. Only the top Harvesters, who actually owned harvest wagons, lived and travelled inside of one. Harvest workers all needed to be tough. And not even the work leader would get paid until all of the harvest was unloaded into one of the city spice warehouses. Any loss on the road could mean disaster for them all.

The harvest workers would do anything necessary to get all of this clean-up run back to the city. Rock knew they would be perfectly happy to use force. He also knew that Wanderers only ever fought in self-defence. And, rather than get into a fight, they would give the Harvesters one of their own wagons to replace the broken one. He was not surprised to hear Young Timber answer the Harvester politely.

"Please wait," the Wanderer said. "Please care for your horses. Wanderers will help. If your wagon cannot be mended we will give another one to you."

When Young Timber stepped onto the road, going towards the broken wagon, a small group of Wanderer men and women followed him.

"No!" shouted the work leader. "You get off the road. Not one Wanderer on this road until we're gone. Understand? Harvesters built this road. You keep off it when we're using it. And don't you go anywhere near those harvest wagons. Wanderers are as bad as Rats. You'll damage our wagons and steal our harvest. I know what you're like."

Rock almost smiled. If the man thought Wanderers were as dangerous as Rats, he had no idea what either kind of people were really like. For one thing, Wanderers were easy to spot, wearing embroidered clothing and strings of beads obtained in distant places, and carrying their possessions with them wherever they went. Rats, on the other hand, could look like anyone at all.

As the Wanderers obediently retreated, several harvest workers unsheathed large fighting knives. Then, while those on the road kept guard over the harvest, the work leader and several others came among the Wanderers. Ignoring Young Timber, this small group of Harvesters began making a show of checking over some of the Wanderers' carts and wagons.

Young Timber's horses grew increasingly nervous. Hitched up, they were unable to flee, or even to kick out in self-defence. Rock tried to encourage them to relax, but they could sense his own discomfort. The Harvesters passed close by, but they barely glanced at Young Timber's wagon, which was only a small one. The harvest workers gave off a sickening smell of old sweat, meat and blood.

Rock lost sight of them for some time. After a tense wait, he eventually watched them return. They must have walked a complete circuit of all the wagons and carts. Meanwhile, Young Timber had been waiting just off the edge of the road. Rock had not seen him move once. At last, the work leader arrived and began speaking to Young Timber. They appeared to argue, and the work leader seemed to get more and more angry.

Straining to listen, Rock thought Young Timber said, "No. Not that wagon. We give you a better one."

The horses beside Rock shivered in response to his own fear. The wagon now housing the Green was the Wanderers' newest and largest. In their greed, these Harvesters had obviously decided they would take the best wagon, even though it was not the one most suited to their needs.

Suddenly, Young Timber raised his voice. Speaking loudly enough to reach everyone within a hundred paces of the road, he said, "That wagon has sides and roof made of wood. You have whole tree to carry! You need wagon with no sides. A stronger floor."

Rock understood this to be an urgent warning to the other Wanderers, who would know to get ready to protect the Green's wagon.

"We'll take the one we've chosen," insisted the work leader, shouting out in reply. "Whatever it is you're carrying in there, take it out right now and clear the way so we can haul the wagon onto the road. Do it quick or we'll do it for you."

"You will not," came a new voice. One that Rock immediately recognised.

The speaker's name was Old Timber. Not only was he Young Timber's father, he was also the most respected elder of this group of Wanderers. He walked out from behind a cart, briefly resting a hand on the worried horse tethered next to it.

Like his son, Old Timber wore plain trousers without a shirt. Only a collection of necklaces covered his chest. Even the smallest movement of the old man's glinting eyes carried dignity and authority. He came to a stop several paces short of the small group of Harvesters. Young Timber stepped across to join him.

The two horses beside Rock shifted their feet restlessly. Their thoughts were pulling on his own. He noticed that, elsewhere, Wanderers had begun quietly unhitching their animals from carts and wagons.

Many times, he had visited the Wanderers at their summer camp just outside the Spice City. But he had never travelled along with them before. It seemed to him that the silent unhitching of all the horses was a practised routine that everyone else was used to. He hurried to copy those Wanderers he could see.

When he had finished, the horses thanked him. By _listening_ , he soon understood that some Wanderer animal talkers were calling them to a spot further away, where they would feel safer in a herd.

By the time Rock looked around for the Harvesters, all of them had climbed back onto the road. Many of them were now shouting at one another, yet he did not think they were arguing. It sounded more like they were preparing for a fight.

It took him several moments to spot Young Timber and Old Timber. They were heading towards the wagon containing the Green. The backs of the two men came briefly into view as they passed the chickens' cart. Rock soon lost sight of them again. But as he watched, more Wanderers also hurried towards the Green's wagon from all directions.

Dropping his hand to his belt knife, Rock hesitated before drawing it out. He no longer thought of himself as a Harvester, so he had no reservations about fighting against them. He was a Rat now. But he was a Rat who had been accepted into a company of Wanderers. No Wanderer would ever use a knife as a weapon. Not even in self-defence.

TWO – WILLOW

It was difficult for Willow to unhitch the horses from Innamarrit's wagon, although she could animal talk a little bit. With some advice from the horses and a lot more from Wildcat, she understood what to do. It was her sore arm that slowed her down. Like Wildcat, she wore a bandage, although her own injury was far less dangerous than her friend's stab wound.

Back in the Spice City, Willow's arm had been branded. The burn should have been well on the way to healing by now. Except that Willow had recently chosen to transform it with a skin dance piercing. For that reason, she would not complain about the pain it gave her. Anything was better than remaining marked with Capability Reader's brand.

Once the two horses were released at last, they set off towards an area further from the road. Willow could see other horses going the same way. She also noticed that many of the Wanderers were heading in the opposite direction, towards the Green.

"Slime-pissing Harvesters," Wildcat grumbled. She had remained on the wagon seat, where there was a better view. "What are they after? They didn't go inside the Green's wagon, the Green would have told me. Do you think they just want that wagon? It's the biggest one. Are they trying to steal it? Someone's got to stop them. I know none of the Wanderers fight with knives, Rock told me. I will do though. I've still got one good arm."

Willow made herself breathe slowly, trying to calm her speeding heartbeat.

Four days ago, Harvesters had very nearly recaptured the Green by force. She remembered her conversation with Old Timber shortly afterwards.

"What would you have done if the Harvesters hadn't listened to argument?" she had asked him. "What can you do against people who attack with knives?"

"We can die," had been Old Timber's unsmiling reply.

Thinking of this, Willow now spoke urgently to her friend. "Listen to me Wildcat. You can't help. Do you understand? You can't fight today. Stay where you are. Please?"

"I can always fight," Wildcat replied.

"I know you were the best hunter in the marsh villages. But, as far as I know, you're not an experienced knife fighter. Those harvest workers are," Willow pleaded.

The anger that sparked in Wildcat's eyes in response to those words was unmistakable. But Willow needed to win this argument in order to protect her friend. "Also," she continued, "the Wanderers are peaceful and you'd be insulting them by knife-fighting now. They've taken a lot of risks letting us travel with them."

"I'm not a Wanderer. They know that."

"Do the Green want you to fight?" Willow knew they did not. And Wildcat was really in no state for anything except quiet resting.

"Are _you_ going to stay here? You're not, are you?" Wildcat gave a small sigh. "This wagon's full of Innamarrit's things. What if those Harvesters decide to steal this one too? I suppose I'd better guard it. At least I'm not too much of an invalid to manage that."

Willow understood that was as close as Wildcat could go to giving in. So she did not say any more about her friend's need to rest and recover her strength. Quietly, before Wildcat could decide to change her mind, Willow set off alone through the Wanderers' parked vehicles.

Once she was closer to the wagon that housed the Green, she found Innamarrit. The older woman immediately looked towards Willow's bandaged arm. "Pain?" she asked.

Willow shook her head, although Innamarrit probably knew she was lying.

"What's happening?" she asked the healer. "I unhitched your horses and Wildcat stayed with your wagon."

Everywhere, Wanderers stood ready in the gaps between all the wagons and carts. Those whose faces Willow could see all looked angry. Yet their voices were not raised. They were talking to one another in their own language.

"Stupid Harvesters want to steal best wagon. Not any other one," Innamarrit explained in reply to Willow's question. "That one for Green, they want." Shaking her head, she rattled the beads that were threaded into small braids in her hair.

Willow could not see the Green's wagon from where she stood, although she knew its exact position. The straightest route towards it was past a smaller wagon, and through a gap between several high-sided carts containing packed tents and equipment. The way was now thoroughly blocked by many Wanderers. Willow had no doubt that all other routes to the Green's wagon were also being protected.

As far as she could tell, not one of the Wanderers carried a weapon of any kind. Willow no longer even carried a belt knife. It had been left behind in the Spice City, along with all of her other possessions. Even the clothes she now wore had been provided by the Wanderers. Only her boots were her own. Trembling with both fear and anger, she looked around for Rock, but there was no sign of him.

Soon, some of the harvest workers came into view. Willow stayed close to Innamarrit, at the outermost edge of a rough circle of wagons, carts and people that surrounded the Green's large wagon. These Harvesters would find no clear route to their goal.

It was Willow's first ever face-to-face encounter with actual harvest workers, though she had heard enough stories to know what to expect. Only those at the front of the group were easily visible, at first. Their rough, thick clothing was heavily soiled. The many holes in their boots were plugged with rags and dead grasses.

A rank smell came from the whole lot of them. The faces and arms of those she could see showed a lot of scars and some unhealed wounds. Many also appeared to have illnesses or irritations affecting their eyes and skin.

They halted at the sight of all the Wanderers in their way. Only one man continued to walk forward. Willow guessed he must be the work leader, although he was dressed just as roughly as the others. There was a long, puffy, red scar on his neck, under one ear. It looked to be festering and was probably very painful. He came to a stop just a few paces from where she stood.

"We want that wagon!" he shouted. "Get out of the way!"

None of the Wanderers spoke or moved. They were not closely packed together. Innamarrit stood more than an arm's reach from a group of three elders. To Willow's other side were two Wanderer men, one of whom was leaning with his back against a cart. Slowly, this man straightened up, slipping into a more alert stance.

Then Willow sensed something happening behind her, closer to the Green. Turning to look, she saw that Old Timber was making his way outwards. Other Wanderers moved to pat his shoulders or grasp his hands as he walked past them. Turning back to face the Harvesters again, she was relieved to see they were waiting, though looking increasingly impatient. Finally, Old Timber came to stand directly in front of the Harvester who had shouted.

"No," Old Timber's voice was quiet, but firm. "I give you better wagon for carrying tree."

"Swallow it!" replied the work leader.

Willow deliberately forced her knees to relax, getting ready to run forward, or away, if Old Timber gave the word.

She saw the work leader turn to one side and then the other. He shouted, addressing the harvest workers. "I want that wagon on the road by noon. Do it!"

The harvest workers were greatly outnumbered. There must have been at least three times as many Wanderers as Harvesters, even including those still on the road. However, the Harvesters were armed. Each of them was openly carrying a knife. Some had two.

Several harvest workers stepped around Old Timber, and Willow lost sight of him. Her throat seemed to close up. Her breath came out in little gasps. There were two Harvesters now approaching the Wanderers to one side of her. Two more were trying to break through on her other side, nearer to Innamarrit.

There was barely time to register what was happening before a Harvester woman shoved past Innamarrit. The Harvester was shorter and stouter than the healer. Waving her knife above her head, she used her chest and shoulders to push Innamarrit out of her way.

Innamarrit fell against Willow, nearly knocking her over. As Willow staggered, she caught a glimpse of another harvest worker pushing his way closer to the Green. The Harvester man casually punched an elderly Wanderer man on the side of his head, as though knocking an overhanging tree branch from his path.

All of a sudden, Willow was furious. "Hey!", she shouted after both of the Harvesters.

It was pointless. They had no interest in hearing her, and were already waving their knives and shouting at a line of four Wanderers standing five steps closer to the place where the Green's wagon was parked.

"Not angry. Wait. Not be like them." Innamarrit took hold of Willow's elbow, steering her in the direction of the old man who had been punched. "We help him," she said.

The woman's gentle voice brought her back to her senses. Willow and Innamarrit were both healers. Of course they must see to the man who was hurt. Also, it would not be a good idea to do anything that might cause the Harvesters to remember Willow's face. The city elders were supposed to think she was heading for the hills, not the Forest.

The old man sat on the muddy ground looking dazed. Two elderly women were bending over him. Willow immediately went and sat down beside him, ignoring the feeling of cold water soaking into her skirt. She took hold of the man's hands, covering his cold, shocked skin with her own, offering warmth and strength. Meanwhile, Innamarrit examined his battered head.

The older women said a few words Willow did not understand and then moved away, returning to their places in the protective ring around the Green. The Harvesters might be getting closer to their goal, but it was obvious the Wanderers had not yet given in. Presumably, they were still positioned in every available space between the parked up carts and wagons. The harvest workers would need to get back through them in order to return to the road. Willow could not imagine how they thought they could take a large wagon with them.

The injured man then said something in the Wanderers' own language.

Innamarrit replied to him and then turned to Willow. "Old Sanki is ashamed, pushed aside like dead wood. Wants to be with young'uns."

Puzzled, Willow looked around. She had not noticed before that there was no one of her own age nearby. And yet she heard young voices giving angry shouts from somewhere up ahead. The young'uns must all be gathered together, closest to the Green.

Letting go of the old man's hands, Willow got to her feet. He chuckled, reaching out to pat her boot.

"I should be with them," she said.

All of a sudden, it no longer seemed so important to hide her face from the Harvesters. After all, it was partly her fault the Wanderers had ended up rescuing the Green in the first place.

Old Sanki smiled at her, obviously feeling better. He began to get up, using Willow's shoulder to lean on.

Innamarrit seemed to be looking at Willow closely.

"Understand," said the healer, as both Willow and Sanki straightened up to face her. "Many people try and take from Wanderers, knowing we not fight with knives. All Wanderers know pattern."

Willow saw the older woman exchange a look with Old Sanki before continuing. "Young'uns' anger is... sharpest," Innamarrit explained. "Young'uns want to fight most, so go where fighting is most needed. Others – us – we look many. Do you understand?"

Yet that strategy had only slowed the Harvesters down. A genuine fight now seemed inevitable. Wildcat would not have hesitated to rush in to the thick of the fighting, even though she was also a healer. Rock was quite likely to be there already, however much he favoured the Wanderers' dislike of violence.

Old Sanki used Willow's shoulder as a prop for a few more moments, then let go. He winked at her, as if he could read her troubled thoughts. Taking Innamarrit by the arm, he spoke again in the Wanderers' language.

Willow left them there, hoping Sanki was speaking up for her. She began to make her way closer to the Green.

Eventually, she caught up with some Harvester men and women. They were easy to spot among the cleaner, smarter Wanderers. Willow could now see some young'uns, who ran between the harvest workers. Yelling, they ran around in front of the Harvesters, only to rush behind them again moments later. The Harvesters shouted, waved knives and sometimes stabbed with them. As Willow got closer, she thought she saw fresh blood staining some of those knives.

At last, Willow could also see the Green's wagon. Young Wanderers had climbed on to it, covering it with a shield made from their own bodies. The Harvesters could be in no doubt about how important this particular wagon was to the Wanderers. Yet not one of the harvest workers showed any sign of changing course.

Willow was closest to a Harvester man whose hair hung in a plait down the back of his filthy shirt. Facing him at that moment was Wildcat's friend, whose name translated as Ear Music. The Wanderer boy had yellow hair. He wore a sleeveless jacket and loose trousers. He was pacing backwards, easily keeping just out of the Harvester's reach. Willow knew that Ear Music had a recent skin dance wound in his chest, but it did not seem to be hindering him at all.

Knife hand outstretched, the Harvester made a sudden lunge toward Ear Music. Without thought, Willow jumped towards the man. Grabbing onto his swinging plait of dirty hair, she pulled it as hard as she could. It felt greasy against her skin.

The Harvester turned, snarling, swinging his knife hand around. As he did so, Ear Music slipped quickly out of his range. Then the Harvester's stinking breath caught Willow full in the face and she looked right into his bloodshot, yellow-rimmed eyes. She stumbled backwards, finally letting go of the end of his braid as he flung himself towards her.

The man was about to slice into her face with his knife. Willow staggered, trying to grab his arm and stop him. Before she could touch him, the man's arm wavered. Suddenly, he was no longer thrusting the knife towards her. Instead he was swiping it sideways. Yet there was no one beside him.

The Harvester went down on one knee. Only then could Willow see Ear Music, crouching just behind him. The boy was already sliding back out of the man's reach, but it was apparent he had just extended one leg and kicked him. Taking her chance, Willow also ran around behind the man before he could regain his balance.

Without pause, Ear Music darted away. Willow got no chance to thank him. He ran towards another Harvester, a woman who had managed to get closer to the Green's wagon than the man with the greasy plait.

Looking back towards the man with the braid, Willow saw him get up. He set off at a run towards a gap in between two carts. Before Willow could follow, three young Wanderers all leapt into his path.

Willow had barely done anything yet, but she now found herself shaking all over. Her legs felt as though they would give way beneath her at any moment. Moving to a quiet spot in the shadow of a cart, she paused to catch her breath and recover. It was obvious she was not going to be able to fight like a young Wanderer for more than a few moments at a time.

She could still see some of the other young'uns dodging around the Harvesters. The Wanderers were not exactly fighting, but making the Harvesters think they were. Even so, pace by pace, the Harvesters were getting closer to the Green's wagon. The Wanderers lying on it, and under it, waved their fists and shouted.

Unable to think how best to help, Willow began _listening_ to the Green using her tree speaking talent. She could tell they were all huddled together, just as they had been when Capability Reader had tried to recapture them, back at the city's edge.

However, the Green were now very much stronger than they had been in the city. The Wanderers and the city Rats had found plenty of food for them. Willow had visited them several times over the previous few days. She knew that the cuts and bruises on their green and brown skin were mostly healed. The green hair of their heads and bodies was now glossy and clean. Inside their loaned wagon, there was enough space for adults to exercise and for children to play.

Through her talent, she could tell that the Green were very well aware of what was happening outside. No doubt, they were already in communication with some of the Wanderers, as well as herself. Surprisingly, they also seemed to be animal talking. They seemed to be indicating to Willow that she should listen with her ears if she wanted to know about other ways to fight.

Returning her attention to her immediate surroundings, Willow could hear several Harvesters yelling. Looking ahead, she could see some of them, even further forward than before. Then, to her astonishment, she heard the unmistakable voices of many goats.

Bewildered, Willow stepped backwards, pressing closely against the edge of the handcart behind her. Suddenly, the goats came running past, going purposefully towards the hidden Green.

As the last few goats brushed against her, Willow used her small animal talking talent. They seemed to be intending to rush straight past the surprised harvest workers and surround the Green's wagon. Then any Harvester who approached too closely would be fiercely nipped and nibbled. The goats seemed excited, and not at all afraid.

On harvest runs, harvest workers regularly slaughtered all kinds of animals, probably using the same knives they held right now. Willow did not pass on that thought to the goats. Instead, she _listened_ to the Green again.

Even as she worried about the goats' safety, Willow thought the Green were already _talking_ to the Wanderers' horses. Then she realised that some of the Green were also singing. Not with sounds that reached her ears, but inside her head.

The song felt directed towards a particular area, a little to the side of the hand cart where Willow now stood. It was a place where a larger cart was parked. Since there seemed to be nothing she could to do to help protect the Green's wagon, Willow decided to investigate the focus of their singing, instead.

On the far side of the larger cart, she came to a group of young Wanderers gathered around someone on the ground. Hurrying towards them, she almost tripped over a trampled basket of ribbons and a smashed box of treasure bark. Then the Green's singing in her head stopped abruptly.

Ignoring the angry cries of Harvesters still attempting to attack goats, Willow looked over the shoulders of the Wanderers in front of her. She let out a gasp of shock. It was Flight who lay there on the muddy ground. Flight, who had been laughing and practising her curses with Wildcat only a short time ago. Blood soaked the Wanderer girl's clothing from her waist to her feet. Her eyes were open, but she was not moving.

Kneeling beside Flight was Ear Music. He was stroking his friend's head with his fingertips, over and over again. Willow recognised the man crouched beside Ear Music as a Wanderer healer whose name she had not yet learned. The healer was about her own age.

"How can I help?" Willow asked at once.

No one answered. Willow could see that the healer had ripped aside the cloth of Flight's trousers to get at the wound. It took several long moments to take in the realisation that Flight was already beyond help. Her thigh had been sliced through. The cut ended in an even deeper wound on the inside of her leg. Willow knew that such wounds sometimes severed a large blood channel. Flight had evidently bled to death before anyone was able to stop the flow.

Even the Green's song had not been able to slow the bleeding. The healer's clothes were drenched in Flight's blood, as were those of some of the other young Wanderers now standing over her body.

Growing up in a Healers' Cottage in her home village, Willow had seen a great many wounds and plenty of shed blood. Only once before, right after Wildcat was stabbed, had she ever felt so horrified at what she saw.

"How can I help?" she repeated softly.

Ear Music gestured ahead. She did not know if he meant for her to join the youngsters working to protect the Green, or the healers working with other injured. Either way, it was clear that there was no help she could give to him or Flight's other companions.

Other Wanderers were looking towards the sad group of youngsters. Willow stared about her, seeing grief and concern in the eyes of every one of them. Yet they continued to stand ready to guard the Green's wagon, or to prevent the Harvesters from taking it away.

Willow's cheeks burned and her eyes felt as if they must be flashing sparks. She was aware of her living blood energising every part of her so fast she almost wanted to explode. For a few moments, she marched in the direction of the Green's wagon. Then she swung around and headed in the opposite direction.

There were cool tears running down her cheeks as she tried to work out where it would be best to go. In truth, she had absolutely no idea what she could usefully do. She was no good as a fighter, and in any case, the fight could surely only end one way. However much anyone managed to delay these Harvesters, it seemed they were bound to get what they wanted in the end. Opposing them would only get more Wanderers killed.

"Willow! There you are."

Rock's voice caught her attention. As she turned to look at him, he laid a hand on her arm. He smelled of horses and not blood.

"The horses..." she started to say.

"Shh... Don't spoil the surprise for the Harvesters. What are you doing here? I was just going back to Innamarrit's wagon for you. The animals are only going to slow this fight down, not stop it. But I've been watching the Harvesters on the road and I've thought of a way we could..."

"Rock, the Harvesters killed Flight. She bled to death... I... no one could... I feel so useless."

"Oh, no." The urgency dropped from his voice as he paused to take this in. "Are you all right?"

She wanted to explain that it had been the Wanderer healer, not herself, who had tended Flight. And that he and Ear Music deserved more of Rock's concern than she did. Yet the shock of what she had just seen was too raw. It was suddenly too difficult to put any words together at all.

When Rock spoke again, he no longer sounded excited, only determined. "I think I know a way to make this stop. Maybe. It might not work, but we could try. You and me."

She found her voice again. "Anything. Tell me what to do."

"We know how to behave like city young'uns, don't we?" He was still staring at her face, as if to study her reaction. "I thought we might be able to get through to the owners of this harvest run. They're the ones in charge, but I'm sure they're just sitting inside one of the harvest wagons doing nothing. They've probably got no idea what their work leader's up to. We've got to make them stop this fight."

"But..."

"They'll remember us when they get back to the city and they'll find out Capability Reader and Stern Greylight want us brought back. And they'll be able to tell them exactly when and where we were spotted so they can send Caul Driver after us. I know all that. But we might be able to stop _these_ Harvesters from discovering the Green, right now. I'll go on my own if I have to. I just wanted to give you the choice to help. This time, I won't mess things up by thinking I know what's best for you."

His look was one of apology. They both knew how his attempts to protect her in the Spice City had ended up putting her in greater danger.

"Of course I'm going with you," she replied. "I have to do something. Anything. Right now."

Willow was very afraid of the city Harvesters. But not so much that she was prepared to let them get their hands on the Green again. And if she could prevent those Harvesters who had just killed Flight from murdering anyone else, then any amount of risk seemed worthwhile.

She held Rock's hand as they set off towards the road. They soon left almost all of the Wanderers behind them. Only a few had remained at the outer edges of the camp to watch over fires or care for small children.

Willow hoped she and Rock were out of sight of Innamarrit's wagon. She did not want to think about the size of the argument they might have with Wildcat, if the marsh girl found out where they were going.

"Maybe things in the city are still going wrong for the Harvesters and they never will come after us," Rock said as they walked on. "Or maybe Caul Driver's already on his way and we're doomed anyway."

"It doesn't matter," she answered. "I'll risk it. But what can we tell these Harvesters that'll make them call off the fight and leave the Wanderers alone?"

"Ah."

They were now right beside the road. Rock stood still, forcing Willow to stop as well. He was staring closely at her face.

"You see, I've been trying to think more like a Rat, " he began. "A peaceful Rat... a Wanderer Rat, not the kind who think they have to fight with weapons and set fire to things to stop the harvest."

"Like at the Bees' Nest?" Willow tried to encourage him, although she was impatient for him to get to the point.

"Yes, like Syme and Sparkle. Maybe even like Yenna might have been if she'd ever been a Rat."

"So?"

"So I thought we could ask them nicely."

"What? Flight..."

Then she caught the look of misery on his face, and understood that he knew full well the significance of what he was asking her to do. With one fingertip, she reached up to stroke the edge of his chin where his young beard had begun to sharpen its roundness.

"Yes," she agreed. "Let's go. Quick, before anyone else dies."

THREE – ROCK

The owners' section of the harvest wagon was a wooden box not much bigger than a city carriage. It formed the back half of the next-to-last wagon in the line of six stopped on the road. As he climbed inside, Rock thought he could smell dusk. Then the scent was gone, hidden by stronger odours of lamp oil, grain alcohol and unwashed people. A stink of animal carcasses and the rest of the harvest was also flowing in from the open door behind him.

Standing beside Willow on a thin carpet, Rock looked down and caught sight of her boots. They were coated with mud and splashed with something dark that could be blood. Hillish boots, not like anything a city worker might wear. Nevertheless, Willow had already convinced the harvest workers outside on the road that she belonged in the Spice City.

She had greatly surprised Rock by telling a long story about wanting to ask after a friend she thought was related to one of the owners. Rock had never before heard her tell a convincing lie. Hiding his astonishment, he had remained silent, pretending boredom. Willow had named Stern Greylight, and even Stern's twin daughters, Semeley and Hinton, giving the impression she knew them personally. It was unlikely the Harvesters had believed that part, but it must have got them interested. Rock and Willow had been allowed inside the owners' wagon, anyway.

Rock prepared himself to tell them what their slime-pissing work leader had been up to. He barely glanced back when the door banged loudly shut behind him.

The three owners remained seated. On a small table between them were an open bottle and three drinking mugs. Rolled sleeping furs were bundled against the wall under the unshuttered window.

These Harvesters were all men. Their clothes were grubby and torn in places, but still a lot finer than those of the workers outside. The owners had better skin, too, with fewer boils and bruises. As well as living inside a wagon, owners were known to eat well, even when their workers went hungry. The workers would not openly complain about it. If an owner failed to return to the city, no one on that team ever got paid.

"Who are you?" asked the oldest looking one of the three.

The man was small, with a large belly and skinny legs. His legs stuck out across the carpet. The ridiculous embroidered slippers covering his feet were full of holes, showing black-grimed skin underneath.

"Are you travelling with those Wanderers?" added the stouter man beside him. "Whatever for?" This one had sagging, yellowish cheeks and a very red nose.

"We already told those stupid people outside," Willow replied, sounding just as impatient as Rock felt. "Look, have you got any idea what the rest of your workers are doing?"

Reaching out, Rock gently stroked the hand of her uninjured arm with his own. Unfortunately, in carefully not touching her wound, he was reminded of it. A surge of rage against his father distracted him for an instant. Capability Reader had actually thought it acceptable to brand a person as his own property.

"I thought one of you might be related to a friend of mine," Willow addressed the three men, repeating the story she had made up outside. "Shim Dealer?"

Bringing his attention quickly back to the owners, Rock watched their faces carefully. Not one of them showed any sign of recognising that name.

"He used to work for Capability Reader," Willow continued.

Rock struggled to keep his own expression under control. The real Shim Dealer had been no true friend of Willow's. Shim was entirely Capability Reader's man. Bought with coin.

Willow continued with her story. "Well, Shim's a friend of the Greylight sisters, Hinton and Semeley. You know, Stern Greylight's daughters?"

At this, there was a hint of some interest in the eyes of the stout Harvester, although the man said nothing.

For Rock, it was hard not to frown at the memory of Hinton Greylight. Long ago, Capability Reader and Stern Greylight had tried to arrange for Rock to become Hinton's future living partner. The arrangement would have given Stern more power over Capability, who would have had access to more of Stern's coin. Neither of them had been considering their children's feelings at all. The children of Harvesters were treated as things to be bought and used.

"Oh," Willow said, responding to the owners' apparent lack of interest in her imaginary friendship. "Well, I was just hoping to find out how Shim's getting on these days, that's all. Never mind. But now we're here, it looks like you could use our help."

The man with skinny legs laughed. "Oh yes? Think we've coin to spare do you?"

Everything always came down to coin for a Harvester. Rock almost sighed out loud in despair.

Willow had told him how Capability Reader had once even offered to pay coin to have her as a future lover when she was older. Shockingly, Rock had not found himself all that surprised. Perhaps Capability had also wanted Rock to hear about it, as some kind of punishment. After Willow had refused, Capability had ordered her branded, instead. Rock would never forgive himself for not having been there to prevent it.

"Did you know your work leader has taken most of your workers off the road," he asked the three harvest owners, quickly returning his thoughts to the present.

"Yes, on our orders," answered the red-nosed man. He then lifted his mug of grain alcohol and swallowed some of it, slowly.

"Did you order them to steal from the Wanderers? Did you order them to kill? Why not just trade with them?" The words came out more loudly than Rock had intended.

For several heartbeats, none of the owners spoke, but all three stared hard at the two youngsters.

Standing tall, with his chin up and his chest out, Rock tried to look reasonably aggrieved and not threatening at all.

"The Wanderers have offered to mend your broken wagon. Or if it can't be mended they're willing to give you one of theirs," he went on, forcing himself to talk slowly and calmly. "But your work leader seems to have decided to steal one anyway. The one he's chosen isn't even suitable for carrying that crewel tree you're having trouble with out there."

The red-nosed man leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. Rock made an effort to look like the kind of young'un whose knowledge of such forest treasures only came from tales told in city taverns.

These men might have realised the tree had been packed badly. But they would have no idea why it had suddenly slipped off at this particular moment. Until very recently, nearly everyone in the Spice City had forgotten about the talents.

"Your workers have just killed someone," added Willow. "They attacked the Wanderers with knives."

"Wanderers don't fight back," the large-bellied owner said. He gave a very unpleasant smile.

Rock squeezed Willow's hand. Taking a slow breath and letting it out, he thought for a few moments before speaking.

"Only in self-defence and they never use knives as weapons," he said. "The worker that killed should be branded as a murderer."

"Who are you, and why do you care?" The third owner spoke, at last. He was bone-thin. Perhaps he was suffering from one of the diseases of the Forest, in spite of having been shut away from the worst of it in the owners' wagon.

Rock ignored his question, hoping the men would draw their own conclusions. With luck, they might think he was the son of a spice trader, on business of some kind.

"The Wanderers will give you what you need to get your harvest back to the city," he told them. "But if those workers carry on they way they're going, you could get a reputation for damaging trade. There are still some spice traders left in the city, and Wanderers trade with them every summer."

All of a sudden, the tall, thin Harvester stood up, taking a step across the carpet. The wagon roof was high, yet the hair on top of the man's head almost brushed against it.

"And where are you two going in the company of these Wanderers?" the man asked. His voice was soft, yet his words sounded like a threat.

"That's not your business," Rock answered, willing himself not to panic. He had to seem full of confidence, like any rich young Harvester. "But we can talk to the Wanderers on your behalf if you like. You need a wagon without sides for that crewel tree you're trying to carry. Unless you'd rather cover it up. Is that why your work leader chose the Wanderers' best wagon?"

He folded his arms across his chest and glared, holding his lips tightly closed, knowing he had to stand his ground now, or these men would never respond. Glancing to the side, he was pleased see how Willow had copied his stance.

"You didn't come to ask after any friends at all," the thin Harvester said. "You came to try and stop our workers doing what we've told them to do."

The silence lasted for perhaps twenty heartbeats.

"You're only a clean-up team aren't you?" Rock finally spoke, avoiding the man's question, yet again. "Where did the crewel tree come from? That kind of harvest doesn't get overlooked and left behind after the main run's gone home."

"And there are wolf and wild cat pelts on one of your other wagons," Willow added, following his lead. "That seems strange to me. Those animals would leave as soon as a harvest run arrived. They'd never stay round long enough for your workers to catch them. Only very good hunters working a long way from the harvest could do that."

Rock and Willow had got a close look at some of the other harvest wagons while on their way to the owners. Some of the contents had been clearly visible through the edges of the wagon covers. There had been no time to discuss it, but Willow had obviously drawn similar conclusions to Rock's own.

"Huh." The seated, fat-bellied man with skinny legs grunted. "And how would you know all about forest animals?"

"That crewel tree belongs to us, we paid for it..." the red-nosed one began.

Then Rock noticed the taller, sickly looking man look very sharply towards his colleague, causing him to fall silent.

"Stop the fight," Rock said loudly. He wanted to take advantage of the seated men's nervousness before the tall one gained control. "Now!" he shouted. "Quickly! If you do, we can help you, I promise. But someone's just been killed!"

His voice trembled over the last few words. Willow had seen Flight's body. Flight was dead. Rock was only just beginning to properly take it in.

The three owners were still exchanging worried looks. Finally, the fat-bellied one addressed the other seated man. "Tell Arno to find Pintup, quick as he can. Have him tell Pintup to ease off. No unnecessary violence, I told him. That man's starting to be a problem. Tell Arno to tell him no going after any of those Wanderers' wagons 'till I say so. I'm not sure these young'uns are telling the truth, but we're going to have enough trouble in the city as it is. I told you it could never work, didn't I? If these young'uns really can help, then I say it's worth a try."

After climbing awkwardly off his stool, the red-nosed Harvester made his way past Rock and Willow to the door. Opening it, he went outside. Rock caught sight of the same worker who had shut the door on them earlier, who then slammed it closed once again.

"Done," the tall man said, looking at Rock. "So, you say you can help?"

Rock wished he could let out a sigh of relief, but he knew he must hold it in. Now that he and Willow had revealed how much they understood about the contents of this harvest run, they were in even more danger than before.

"If you let them, the Wanderers will repair the wagon under the crewel tree and build a cover for it." Willow answered before Rock could speak. "So the tree will be hidden when you go into the city."

"How much?" the man asked, without hesitation. He did not show any obvious response to the idea of hiding the tree.

"No coin," said Rock, now finding it almost impossible to keep hold of his invented role as a pampered city boy. "They'll gladly do it to stop your workers breaking stuff and hurting people."

The fat-bellied Harvester shook his head to indicate how crazy he thought that made the Wanderers. The tall one had a worryingly suspicious expression.

Afraid they had guessed he was not rich, after all, Rock decided to risk threatening them some more. "You've been trading with someone else in the Forest, haven't you?" he asked. "That's how you got a crewel tree and those animal pelts. The city elders won't like that." He managed to insert some arrogance back into his voice.

Although he longed to give up the pretence, he was also curious about what was really going on.

"Well they won't know about it. And it's no business of yours, either," the short man replied. "If you've got any sense, boy, you'll shut up before you get yourself killed. The only reason I've not ordered that yet, is 'cause you're heading away from the city. When we're done with our trade, you'll not trace us, even with Stern Greylight at your backs. You work for him, I suppose. Spying? Spreading the good word of the harvest?"

The taller man interrupted his seated companion by letting out a long sigh.

"Young'uns, are you heading for the Forest with these Wanderers?" he asked, sounding almost kindly. "You do seem to have an unhealthy interest in it, though by the look of you both, you've never been there yet."

"Whatever Stern Greylight's paying you, it's not enough," the other man added.

"They don't work for Stern Greylight," said the tall man.

Rock struggled not to let his face show surprise, or concern.

The tall, thin Harvester leaned forward, seeming to look more closely at Willow. Then he straightened up and addressed his words to Rock.

"Goin' to join the Forest Rats?"

There was a pause that lasted for several heartbeats. Then the Harvester coughed, and continued speaking.

"And I'm guessing that wagon you're so keen to protect has got supplies for 'em. Boy, I'm telling you. No amount of supplies will be enough. A summer in Forest is bad, but the Rats live there all winter, too. Well, a few of 'em live. Most of 'em die. Don't bother going to into Forest unless it's the only choice you've got. That's my advice."

Rock could think of nothing to say in reply. He continued to concentrate on keeping his face as expressionless as possible. He had heard Willow's breathing quicken at the man's words, but she did not speak.

"Me and Wessop here..." The tall man waved his hand to indicate the other owner. "...And Hern – he's the one giving orders outside – we've got no other choices. We all owe coin to the city elders. See, people call us owners, but it ain't exactly true, 'cause we bought these wagons with borrowed coin. And so now we've got to harvest forest whether we like it or not. D' you think if we were as rich as city elders we'd need to live in this wagon like this? Making profit's not as easy as we were led to believe. We're not stupid. We know Forest can't be put back after the harvest's done. So one day, Forest will run out. Yes, we know that. So we need to act while we still can, if we want to survive at all. Yes, we traded with strays for that crewel tree, though it's still genuine forest harvest. Those trees are rare. We deserve our profit."

Rock tried to pretend to look sympathetic. He did not feel it, even though the man was clearly attempting to be generous towards the two young'uns.

"And dusk?" he asked, out of sheer curiosity.

"Maybe that, too," the Harvester agreed. "Though it's no business of yours. What I am saying to you is that Forest kills. It's not just the wolves and tree bears and knife-toothed varnels and black beasts. There are diseases no one's ever even heard of before, plenty of killing insects, even killing plants. Heard of a slimevine?"

Neither Rock nor Willow answered. Actually, they had both heard of slimevines.

"A slimevine eats living creatures," the harvest owner continued. "Animals or people, it don't care. Even those people that call themselves Rats and try and stop us getting on with our work. Slimevine eats them, too." He laughed, but did not sound very cheerful.

Wessop, the skinny-legged Harvester, spoke up again, sounding impatient. "I've had enough of this. If we don't get moving soon, we're going to be another whole day late back with this run." He opened the door to shout at the third owner, Hern, who was still outside. "Get a message out to Pintup that these young'uns are to be allowed to send Wanderers with tools onto the road. They're to be allowed to mend our wagon as long as they don't steal anything."

Then the tall Harvester addressed Rock and Willow once more. "You sure they'll do it and not ask for payment?"

"If we talk to them on your behalf they will," Rock assured him, hoping that would be enough to make sure he and Willow were not murdered right away.

The man gave him a sharp look, but he only said, "Well, that seems to be our cheapest and most sensible choice then. Off you go."

As Rock and Willow turned to leave, the Harvester added, "Sure you don't want a ride back to the city, young'uns?"

Rock frowned. He had noticed Willow give a visible shudder.

"Better for you if we don't," he replied quickly.

The man laughed. "Eh, you're smart. And you're probably right."

Rock grabbed Willow's hand and they left the harvest wagon together. Outside, up on the wagon seat, a harvest worker was minding the horses who were still hitched up in front. She made a noise like a threatening growl as Rock's gaze moved over the tired horses.

He and Willow walked soberly to the edge of the road. Already, they could see three harvest workers going in the opposite direction.

"They'll understand the extra gift we've just given them when they get back to the city," Rock said.

"I know." Willow sounded resigned, as though she would not wish to change what they had done. "They can make Stern and Capability pay them to say where they've seen us. They'll do it as soon as they hear about what's been going on while they've been away. They didn't seem stupid, especially that tall thin one. When they reach the city, they're going to work out pretty quickly who we really were."

"Lucky for them, they didn't kill us. Not that they realise that, yet," he added.

Rock knew he ought to be pleased with himself for figuring out how to stop the fight. Yet he only felt sad. Flight was still dead. And now Capability Reader was bound to come after the Green sooner, rather than later.

"No way back," Willow said quietly. "We go on. Even when Capability finds out where we are, it doesn't mean he'll catch us. City Harvesters have got a lot to worry about right now, remember?"

"Yes." Rock smiled, for her benefit.

Privately, he had been worrying a lot about Syme and Goshi and the other city Rats. Now that the Harvesters' careful manipulation of the facts about talents had been exposed, the city elders were likely to go after those responsible.

"What are strays?" Willow asked, just as they reached the edge of the Wanderers' encampment.

"People that got thrown out of their own communities." He was surprised she did not already know the term. "The... the ones who used to live in the city are often branded. Not... not the new sort of branding, the old sort."

"Branded as thieves. Not branded as the property of some rich Harvester," she replied very quietly.

"Yes. You know how the city elders have always had thieves and other criminals branded so they can't get work, or even get served in shops?" he went on, wishing to get to the end of the distressing conversation as fast as possible. "Some of them probably make new lives for themselves in other places, where no one knows or cares what the brands mean. But some are the kind of people to get thrown out of other places, too. Then they have to go somewhere lonely. Like the Forest. Some of them probably stay there alone until they die. Others eventually gang up together."

"I see. And in the Forest they hunt, and trap animals and dig up plants," Willow said. "And they've learned to trade with Harvesters in secret."

"Yes." Rock had never thought much about strays before, but it all made sense.

"So," Willow continued, "as soon as people realise there are little Harvesters who'll pay them coin for anything they hunt and trap and dig up from the Forest, even without needing to join a proper harvest run..." Willow's voice was much louder than before. "...The harvest will get bigger and bigger. Harvesters have already started making people outside the city think they need coin. When people learn how these strays are doing it, they'll all want to have a go as well!" She sounded close to despair.

"But right now, its been a help to us," he said, knowing it was a very poor argument. "However those owners are planning to get that tree and those pelts sold on, they want to do it in secret and they're in a hurry. It made them more willing to listen to us."

"It's probably what made them so violent in the first place," she answered.

Just then, Old Timber appeared around the side of a cart. He hurried forward to meet them.

"No more fight. No more deaths. Green safe," the old man said. "Harvesters return to road. Big surprise." His expression made it clear that he knew they had something to do with it.

Rock quickly explained what he and Willow had promised the Harvesters. Having listened carefully, Old Timber told them to stay where they were, while he spoke with other Wanderers.

When Old Timber returned, not long afterwards, Young Timber was with him.

"It will be done," Young Timber announced. "No problem. Easy to give help when Harvesters let us. Now, tell all, slowly."

So Rock and Willow took turns to explain in detail what had gone on inside the owners' wagon. Rock nervously studied the two Wanderers' faces. Neither showed any obvious signs of disapproval, but they remained unsmiling.

"Harvesters' broken wagon will soon be strong again," Young Timber agreed, finally. "With new roof, too. Tree is settled. Green have talked with it."

"I'm sorry about the tree," said Willow. "It's dying and we can't save it."

"When Wanderers build roof around tree, some small branches may break," said Old Timber. At last, there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Oh, of course!" she responded. "I never thought. We can carry small twigs back to the Forest, can't we?"

"Yes," agreed Young Timber. "And if forest earth falls out of wagon, Wanderers will let it fall into their tool belts. If we carry twigs in pots of earth, they may grow roots. Tree will not die."

It surprised Rock that Willow had not thought of this for herself. Perhaps she had been too caught up in the sense and smell of death from the other five harvest wagons. Tree speakers believed the only way of completely killing a plant was by destroying every single one of that particular kind that existed, anywhere. A poorly harvested or badly stored plant was still referred to as dead, since a tree speaker could then no longer _hear_ it. But, in general, a seed or a cutting was all that was necessary to keep any plant alive.

He looked at Willow. For an instant, her smile was almost joyful. Then the lightness was gone.

"If only we had talked to the owners in time to save Flight. I'm sorry," Rock said next.

"You did not kill her," Old Timber replied.

In the silence that followed, Rock let in a little more of his own shock at what had happened to Flight.

After a while, he saw Young Timber look questioningly at Old Timber.

"Yes," Old Timber said, as if in answer to something his son had not spoken aloud. He then looked at Rock and Willow as he went on. "Asilini... Flight, much loved, will be missed for herself." He paused, then continued. "And for another thing. Flight was far-talker."

"Far-talker," Willow repeated. She turned to look at Rock.

He had never heard a Wanderer use that term before.

"Is it secret?" he asked Old Timber. "Something only Wanderers know?"

"Secret, yes," the old man replied.

Young Timber was shaking his head. "The Wanderer word we say to you as 'far-talker' is more complicated," he said. "Hard to explain. What you need to know now, is how Flight was talking to Forest Rats. She told them you and Green are coming. They expect you."

Willow frowned thoughtfully. "Once, when I was at the Bees' Nest, I met a tree that made a link to my name-tree in Warner," she said. "And Wildcat tried to send me a message through wharf mice. But this is something stronger than that isn't it? It must be, to work over such a long distance."

"Perhaps same, or different, but stronger, yes," agreed Young Timber.

"Flight never said a thing to us about far-talking," said Willow. "Not even to Wildcat, I'm sure."

Tears were building in her eyes. Rock watched as the first of them spilled over, feeling unable to offer any comfort.

He thought of how incredible it would have been to be able to send news to Syme Deadlander, right now, about the stolen crewel tree and the secret trade between Harvesters and strays. The news that Flight might have been able to do such a thing was staggering. Yet it left him feeling sad and helpless, because Flight was gone.

"What will happen now?" he asked of the two Wanderers, hoping they understood his need to turn the conversation in a new direction. "How much longer will it take to get deep into the low villages? Can we still get to the Forest before the snow?"

It was not only the coming winter that made their journey urgent. Stern Greylight and Capability had made a bargain with the Wanderers, allowing for the return of the Green to the Forest. But no one had ever really expected the Harvesters to keep to that agreement. Stern and Capability wanted to catch Green and use them in the harvest of the Forest, with talented youngsters like Willow translating their instructions.

At the moment, the two men were probably still searching the city for Willow. Possibly for Rock, too. But, as soon as this clean-up team reached the city, Stern and Capability were going to find out Willow and Rock had set off with the Wanderers.

The whole group of Wanderers travelling with wagons, horses, goats and chickens would be easy for anyone to follow. And Harvesters on fast horses could easily catch them up. That was why they planned to leave the Great Forest Road at its first branch track, heading into the low villages to cross the low river. There, it would be possible to split into many smaller groups, each taking a different route. Eventually, they would follow the cart road beside the riverway, meeting up again at the farthest end of the Great Forest Road. It was hoped the Green could quickly slip into the Forest before anyone realised they had arrived. Rock, Willow and Wildcat then intended to join the Forest Rats, and the Wanderers would continue journeying elsewhere.

Old Timber held up one hand as if to signal for quiet, although none of the others had spoken.

"I talk with Green," said the old man. "I wonder..."

He paused. His three listeners waited in silence.

"Perhaps our plan is not right," Old Timber said eventually. "Rats, Sparkle, Syme Deadlander, your old friend Goshi, all in city, all working to stop Harvesters or city elders' people coming after Green. They may fail. Wanderers' way to fight is to think. I am thinking we should change plan quick."

"But this was the only plan," Willow complained. "If we could have come up with another one we would have done."

"Not then," Old Timber answered her. "Now we can. Different plan."

Rock could not think of a different way of getting the Green back to the Forest.

"You did not know how Wanderers chose old plan because secret talent of Flight told Forest Rats to expect you," said Young Timber. "Forest Rats are near harvest. They wait for Flight to tell them when we are close to Forest, so they can meet with us and help. Rats watch harvest. They know where and when will be safe to let Green out. They would have given warning to Flight if Harvesters are waiting at end of road to catch Green."

He paused, allowing Rock and Willow to absorb this new information. Rock had never been to the Forest before. He had assumed it would be easy for the Green to disappear into it as soon as they got there.

"Forest Rats will not come to meet us, now," continued Old Timber. "Also, Green tell me they are rested, they are fed, they are now strong. Can travel long way on own feet if not troubled by people that see them and are scared or angry."

"From here to hills is too many people," argued Young Timber. "People who will try to catch or hurt Green who are not hidden secretly in wagon."

"Yes," his father agreed. "But Forest reaches far. As far as sea."

"Ah, Big Drop," Young Timber said, straight away. "Wanderers not go down Big Drop." Addressing Rock and Willow, the younger man went on, "Carts and Wagons not go down Big Drop. Horses not go down Big Drop."

Rock could see that Willow was puzzled.

"There's a long cliff somewhere ahead," he explained to her. "I've never been there, but I've heard of it. It goes along one side of the Great Forest Road and cuts it off from the coast. It's a lonely place. Too steep to grow crops and there's no grazing."

"Long ago, many stone listeners hunted there, before Harvesters built Forest Road," Young Timber added. "After Big Drop is way to sea, and another way to reach Forest."

As far as Rock knew, beyond the long cliff was a lot of windswept, salty, sandy land where few people could be bothered to settle. There would certainly be little chance of anyone noticing the Green, but it would be a very long walk.

"We let Green out at Big Drop," said Old Timber firmly. "Green want to be outside, green want to travel on own feet. Like Willow making new scar for herself in skin dance."

"Oh," Willow responded. "Yes, I see."

Old Timber continued. "Wanderers not go down Big Drop. You can. If you want to go with Green to Forest. In Forest, Green may take you to Rats, but it is very far. It may be winter before you find Forest Rats."

"I would go with the Green to the Forest," Willow answered Old Timber.

"It's too dangerous," Rock argued. He was annoyed because Willow had not even paused to ask what he thought. "What if the Green are noticed by someone before we get there? The first plan could still work."

Old Timber lifted his chin and straightened his back. "A Wanderer has died today," the old man said. Then he slowly lowered his eyes in silence.

Rock had spent enough time in the company of Wanderers to know that this was a rebuke. Such a movement of the eyes was deliberate, offering an offending speaker time to reconsider. He knew that Old Timber meant for him to think more carefully.

Ever since he had first explored their summer camp on the edge of the Spice City, Rock had longed to go travelling with the Wanderers. During his unhappy childhood, he had come to see their tents and wagons as some kind of sanctuary, where he had wished he could truly belong.

It was difficult to swallow the agitation he was feeling, even though he was no longer a child or a Harvester. Yet he forced himself to do it, out of respect for Flight as well as for the old man.

"I'm sorry," Rock was finally able to say. "Wanderers have fought beside Rats and for the Green, here and in the city. Now a Wanderer has died for the Green. And there is no good reason to keep putting you all in danger. I understand."

"You may travel with Wanderers, where we go, if you wish," Old Timber said mildly.

"No."

Rock found he had spoken before he was even conscious of making a decision. Meeting Old Timber's gaze, he knew it would be a mistake to lie. "I go with Willow," he explained.

"Wildcat will want to come, too," said Willow.

"Green tell me they can look after wild girl," Old Timber replied, "if wild girl wants to go with them."

"Yes, you go tell wild girl now," Young Timber spoke up. "Tell how friend has died. Tell of far-talking. Tell of new plan."

Old Timber gave a brief nod of his head. "Now we bury Flight," he said.

Rock blinked, sensing the old man's weary suffering.

FOUR – WILLOW

Willow noticed a brightness in Wildcat's eyes that looked more like anger than distress. Apparently, Wildcat had learned of Flight's death almost the instant it had happened. The Green had told her. By the time Willow had returned with the news, her friend had also known about the changed travel plans. Yet the Green had left it to Willow to explain about Flight's talent of far-talking.

"We didn't know of anything like that in the marshes," Wildcat said as the two of them discussed it. "When we needed help after two summers of swamp fever, we had to send a message with Rummy the Trail. Until Rinnet came to help us, I didn't know the plants had already warned her before he delivered it. If we'd had a far-talker, we could've called for help a lot sooner. Rinnet said the message she had through the plants wasn't clear enough on its own. She still didn't know to go to the marshes until Rummy asked her to."

Willow said nothing to try and soothe away the fury she could hear in Wildcat's voice. She reasoned her friend deserved to feel angry. Those older griefs were now linked to a newer loss, the death of Flight.

"How long will it take to get ready to go down Big Drop with the Green?" Wildcat asked, changing the subject abruptly. "You'll come with me and the Green, won't you?" She did not seem at all bothered about leaving the Wanderers so soon.

"Yes, I'll come, too. Young Timber said we should be alongside Big Drop in about three days time," answered Willow.

It was not easy getting used to the new plan, in spite of what Willow had told Old Timber. She would miss the Wanderers a great deal.

"Innamarrit promised to teach me the Wanderers' special ways of healing," she added, sadly. "I'll probably never learn them now."

"But we're still going to the Forest," replied Wildcat, sounding impatient. "That was always the main thing."

"Yes, but..."

"But now everything's different because you're in love. Is that it, really?"

"No. But, actually, Rock's going to come too."

"Huh."

Willow had been unsure of her feelings for Rock while they were both in the city. And Wildcat had positively disliked him. Now that Willow felt entirely different, she was not sure if her friend's opinion had also changed.

There was no chance to ask. Just then, Innamarrit arrived to collect healers' supplies from her wagon. Many people injured in the fight still needed attention.

For the rest of that afternoon, Willow helped the Wanderer healers. Wildcat insisted on coming along at first, but Innamarrit soon sent her back to the wagon to continue resting. Meanwhile, Rock was helping the animal talkers look after wounded and distressed animals. Out on the road, a team of Wanderers was mending the broken harvest wagon.

At last, with only a short time before full dark, news passed through the camp that the crewel tree's wagon was ready. The Harvesters would finally be able to continue their journey. When Willow looked toward the road, she saw there were expensive oil lamps mounted on the harvest wagons.

The Wanderers had decided that their own wagons and animals would have to stay where they were until dawn. Innamarrit had told Willow that a stream with clean water had been located, and precious dried animal feed would be brought out.

Innamarrit had also explained that Flight's closest relatives and friends would choose where to bury her body. There would be a night time drumming for her back at the camp. Near dusk, directions for getting to Flight's grave were shared around the camp, so that others could visit it.

Willow, Rock and Wildcat went there together in the dark. A rough climb over uneven, stony ground brought them to the rock-gripper tree under whose roots Flight was buried.

Wildcat sat down on the grass beside the grave.

"If Shim Dealer had been stronger when he knifed me. If he hadn't just been branded so his grip was shaky, this could have happened to me," she said. "I only knew Flight for four days, but she was a good friend."

Willow could think of nothing to add. Rock did not speak, either. For a long time, the three of them shared a peaceful silence by the rock-gripper tree. While they were there, several groups of Wanderers also came to the grave. Most spoke quietly in their own language and then went away. A few stayed for a while, like the three non-Wanderers.

Eventually, the three young'uns made their way back to the camp for the drumming.

Rock went to borrow a drum from someone. When he returned, he reported that the ceremony would honour the dying crewel tree as well as Flight the Wanderer.

"Aren't the Wanderers angry with the tree for causing the fight?" Willow asked, in surprise.

"Not the people I spoke to," he answered.

"No, you're right," Wildcat agreed with him. "The tree didn't kill Flight, a Harvester did that. I wish I knew which one of them it was."

"Well you don't," Willow said, rather more sharply than she had intended. The last thing she wanted now was for Wildcat to talk of revenge.

"There's been enough killing, Wildcat," Rock said just then. "Do you want me to borrow a drum for you?"

Willow saw Wildcat open her mouth to reply, but then close it. So Willow answered for her, "She shouldn't stretch that wound at all, yet. And we've both got skin dance scars, too. We'll just follow the rhythms with our ears."

Wildcat scowled, but did not object out loud. In any case, by then it was time for the drumming to start. Rock joined the drumming circle, and the two girls sat on the ground behind him. The ceremony was short and gentle. Old Timber led the rhythm, which was slow and not all that loud. Willow found it very sad, but it was also restful.

After the drumming was ended, she heard a different noise, like many voices quietly humming. Fascinated, she realised it was coming from the Green inside their wagon. It seemed they were acknowledging Flight's death in their own way.

The Wanderers soon began taking themselves off to their chosen sleeping places, some inside wagons or carts and some under them. Rock went to help to care for the horses again, and Willow made sure that Wildcat returned to Innamarrit's wagon.

Just as Wildcat was about to climb onto the wagon step, a sound made the two girls turn around. Willow recognised Ear Music, although it was too dark to see his face very clearly. The unruly shape of his hair was unmistakable.

"Wild Cat," he said.

Then he fell silent. Willow thought he was struggling to think of the words to express something.

Finally, Ear Music began again. "Wild Cat... and Willow, Rock, too. Please, I will... I wish... please... I come too?"

"You want to come with us to the Forest?" asked Wildcat, understanding him immediately.

"Please," Ear Music agreed. "I and Flight did want to go. We would ask later, nearer Forest... would tell you of Flight's talent then... All changed now." He finished with a long, sad sigh.

Willow and her friend looked at each other. For herself, Willow saw no reason to refuse. She thought it would be helpful to have the company of at least one Wanderer. But Wildcat had never said how she really felt about accepting love from Ear Music.

"Yes," Wildcat told him. "You can come with us. Your talent will be useful." Turning to Willow, she explained, "He's a stone listener."

Ear Music bowed his head. Then he lifted his face towards Willow. "You say yes?"

"I say yes, but I can't speak for Rock. He's with the horses. Go and ask him."

"I go now," the Wanderer replied.

He left just as suddenly as he had appeared.

"Well that was a surprise," commented Wildcat.

After a short pause she went on, "It's all right with the Green so it has to be all right with me, I suppose. They could have warned me, though."

"It's true that having a stone listener along could be useful," Willow suggested carefully.

"Also useful that he'll be my lover if I let him," Wildcat said. "So I've got something to amuse me while you and Rock get as close as you truly want to get."

Willow helped her climb into the wagon. There, they found Innamarrit waiting to check the dressing on Wildcat's wound.

"You heard?" Wildcat asked the older healer. "Did you know he and Flight were always going to ask to come with us?"

"Yes. Flight's talent was Wanderer secret, to tell you only on leaving us. Boy wants... adventure," said Innamarrit, thoughtfully, making her hair beads chink softly as she moved her head.

Willow smiled to herself, thinking Innamarrit was referring to his wanting to be Wildcat's lover as well as the journey to the Forest.

"Were Ear Music and Flight lovers?" Wildcat asked then, startling Willow away from her own thoughts.

"No. Friends. Good friends. Since children."

Innamarrit closed her eyes, resting her hands lightly on the skin above Wildcat's injury. Willow studied the action carefully, knowing she might never get such a chance again. Suddenly, it was very hard not to regret the decision she had made so willingly on behalf of the Green.

Once Wildcat had been tucked into blankets and instructed to try and sleep, Willow went in search of Rock. She found him returning from the horses, having spoken to Ear Music.

"Should be interesting," was his only comment on his conversation with the Wanderer.

Willow took that to mean he did not mind Ear Music joining them when they left.

They walked to their own sleeping place, underneath Old Timber's wagon. Rock pulled out the blanket stored under the wagon's driving seat, arranging it on the flattest, least muddy bit of ground. Removing their boots, the two of them lay down fully clothed on one half of the blanket. Rock flipped the other half up to cover them.

Then he wrapped both arms tightly around Willow, squeezing her ribs. For a moment she could hardly breathe. Just as she was going to protest, his grip relaxed. He did not often say how he felt, but she was starting to understand him in other ways.

"That was an awful day," Willow said, speaking for both of them.

He bent his head until his forehead was pressed against her chest. She clutched him closer with her good arm. Rock's body was tense. With the hand of her branded arm, she stroked his hair slowly.

Since they had agreed to be lovers, they had not once been together in complete privacy. Even while they slept, Old Timber was inside his wagon just above them. Wildcat was right, the change of plan for getting the Green to the Forest might have some definite advantages.

Allowing her thoughts to wander, Willow decided to ask Innamarrit for a packet of seema leaf to take on the journey. Seema was the safest and most reliable way to prevent unplanned pregnancy. It was a valuable plant in more ways than one, being tricky to obtain and easy to sell for coin. But Innamarrit, like all the Wanderers, was always generous to those in need.

Then Willow found herself thinking about the Green's peculiar talents. Sharing thoughts with them was different to tree speaking or animal talking. And they had once done something that allowed all the talented people around to _talk_ with each other without speaking aloud. Willow was unsure about how private any of her thoughts might be when the Green were nearby.

Rock stirred, easing back from their close embrace.

"I wish..." he started to say "...oh, never mind."

He slid a warm hand inside Willow's blouse. She tried not to think of the Green anymore. Very quietly, she and Rock pressed close against one another.

Much later, they slept for what remained of the night.

Just two days afterwards, having made good progress along the Great Forest Road without meeting any more Harvesters, they reached Big Drop.

The Wanderers chose a suitable camp site off the road, on the opposite side to the cliff. Then preparations were made for Willow, Rock, Wildcat, Ear Music and the Green to leave just before dawn the next day.

The departure had to be as quiet as possible, to avoid attracting attention. Harvesters might come later, asking questions of anyone using the road or living close to it. No such people had yet been seen, but that did not mean there was no one close enough to spot the Wanderers' wagons and camp fires at a distance.

The Wanderers supplied the four non-green travellers with suitable clothing for the journey. As well as tough clothes, each of the four were given a leather belt with a great many carrying loops, and pouches filled with supplies. Willow had been provided with a new belt knife. With the exception of Wildcat, they also had leather carrying straps that went crossways over one shoulder. These were stocked with extra pouches filled with food and water.

Old Timber himself handed Willow a special, extra carrying strap for two cleverly designed pouches. Inside each one was a tiny, living crewel tree cutting. The plants rested in forest earth that had been gathered from the bed of the broken harvest wagon.

"Grow them until you find their homes," he told her. "I have two more. So do other Wanderers. We go inside Forest next spring to leave little ones with roots behind. You may do it sooner."

When she thanked him, Willow felt tears sliding down her face.

As sunrise approached, she stood beside Rock, just off the edge of the road, facing the approach to Big Drop. There was a short stretch of stony land to cross before the cliff fell away more steeply.

Wanderers had already opened the wooden doors of the largest, best wagon, and the Green had all come outside.

The Green were naked, as always. In the pre-dawn light they appeared grey, like everything around them. The only ones carrying anything at all were those in charge of the smallest of their children.

There were twenty-three Green altogether. The five children ranged in age from a young baby to a boy who looked not far from fully grown.

Of the eighteen adults, seven were obviously female and eight male. The other three adults had such thick growths of green body hair it was not possible to be sure, and it seemed unnecessary to ask. From her conversations with them, Willow had discovered that they only really thought in terms of male and female when creating children. For love-play and anything else, they made no such distinction.

While some of the Green stood looking back at the Wanderers, perhaps to show their thanks, others were already heading straight towards the edge of Big Drop. The way they moved always made Willow think of flowing water. It was wonderful to see them out in the open air at last. She heard many whispered exclamations of pleasure from the Wanderers, who had all gathered to see them go.

Wildcat stood just in front of Rock. Turning, she gave the assembled Wanderers one last silent wave. All of the Green were now on the move, and Wildcat began to walk smartly after them.

Willow bit her lip to stop herself from questioning whether they were really doing the right thing. Hand in hand with Rock, she began following her friend. Behind them came Ear Music, who had lingered for personal goodbyes to his family and friends.

After she had walked only a few paces, Willow heard the sound of cart wheels on the road behind. She did not turn and look back. Her choice had been made.

With no further need to go near the Forest so close to winter, the Wanderers had decided to follow their more usual routine of spending winter in the low villages. It would no longer matter if Harvesters or city elders' people searched every last one of their carts and wagons. No one would find any trace there of the Green, or the three talented youngsters who had helped to rescue them.

Turning her attention to the task ahead, Willow studied what she could see of Big Drop. The slope immediately in front of her was dry and stony. The only obvious plants were tough grasses and isolated rockgripper trees. Less than a hundred paces from edge of the road, the ground fell away far more steeply. Willow looked out across the crowns of several trees. Beyond them was open space.

Clouds moved across the sky. The light was brightening. Willow was soon able to make more sense of the view. Far below, there seemed to be more trees of various kinds, but no roads, tracks or buildings. The lowland stretched so far it seemed to blend into the sky at the horizon. If the sea was out there, too, she could not recognise it at such a distance. She was not sure what it looked like.

Something began to nag at her thoughts. Eventually, she realised it came from the Green, some of whom were already beginning to make their way down the cliff. Willow glimpsed their bodies sparkling with dew, picked up on the hairs of their skin as they brushed against grass stems.

After spending a few moments trying to sort out what they were saying in her mind, just as she did when tree speaking, Willow began to understand. They were sharing their experiences as they travelled, marvelling at the amount of visible sky.

She noticed Rock looking sideways at her.

"Are you getting that?" he asked.

"From the Green? Yes."

"Me too," said Wildcat, without turning round. "And it's going to be useful knowing what's ahead of us. We're not going to get all the way down that cliff in one day."

"I see two of them have stayed behind for you," Rock observed.

Two Green hung back from the rest. They crouched low behind a small thorny bush, looking slightly hesitant.

Inside her head, Willow _heard_ them express their intention to keep near Wildcat, ready to help her if she had trouble descending the cliff with only one useable arm. But Wildcat was proud and they were nervous of her temper. Innamarrit had bound Wildcat's arm across her chest. The marsh girl was going to have to descend the cliff one-handed, and even her good arm had its still-healing skin dance scar. Sharing a quick glance with Ear Music, Willow saw him smile. Clearly, there would be plenty of help available if her friend ever admitted to needing any.

Willow's own wounded arm was thickly padded with what Innamarrit had called a 'travelling bandage'. It felt strange, but Willow could use both arms freely when she needed to.

They walked towards Big Drop. Choosing a place where a large rockgripper had anchored itself between two boulders, they prepared to start the steep descent. The rockgripper's branches reached out in all directions, providing handholds. Lower down, roots tracked like ropes along the cliff. The two Green with Wildcat gave verbal chirps of encouragement.

"I'll go last," said Wildcat. "If I fall, these Green are planning to catch me."

Stepping down behind Rock, Willow immediately felt loose stones sliding under her boots. She grabbed a rockgripper branch for support. Below the safety of the tree, there was a much more difficult stretch of stony earth held together by small plants. Her carrying belt and shoulder strap were heavy, even if they were more comfortable than a travelling pack. The layers of useful clothing were too warm. Willow felt jealous of the Green, who carried nothing and did not need clothes or shoes.

The slow, careful descent of Big Drop continued all through that day. Whenever Wildcat began to look close to exhaustion, Willow, Rock or Ear Music would insist on a short break. Wildcat was much too proud to ask on her own account.

A little before sunset, the Green communicated that they had found a small whinbush with a good crop of nuts and were settling there to feed. As Willow caught them up, she stopped to look. They seemed to be eating quite a varied meal. From what she could make out, they were enjoying all kinds of insects as well as nuts.

A short distance above her, Rock stood facing out across the lowlands. "It's going to rain," he said.

Following the direction of his gaze, Willow saw that grey-black clouds now filled the sky, all the way from the cliff behind, to the horizon ahead. Wildcat and Ear Music were further above Rock.

"The Green found us a little cave," Wildcat shouted down.

"Really?" Rock answered her. "I didn't hear that."

Just at that moment, a Green woman emerged from behind a slab of rock near Willow's shoulder. She was the one who had trailed Wildcat throughout the day. Treading lightly across a trickle of loose scree that Willow had considered too dangerous to walk on, the woman beckoned. Willow and Rock both started to make their way towards her, with Wildcat and Ear Music behind them. Eventually, Willow could make out a long, low, moss-covered opening in the rocky side of the cliff.

At that point, Wildcat scrambled forward. The others all tactfully allowed her to manage on her own, and to be the first to enter the cave. By then, the Green woman had already slipped silently away. Before following Wildcat into the cave, Willow glanced back towards the whinbush. There, she could see the rest of the Green. They now appeared to be making themselves a roof of leaves to sleep under.

Together with Rock, Willow then climbed inside the cave mouth. They stood beside Wildcat, waiting for their eyes to adjust to the low light. Ear Music was already there. He began exploring straight away. Holding out his arms so that his fingers touched stone, he walked forward confidently.

"Safe. Dry," he said. "Mind heads. Low roof."

A carpet of old dead leaves had blown in on the wind. The cave did not smell of any kind of animal, although Willow found it hard to believe that no other creatures would choose to shelter there at night.

"How much do you think the Green understand about creatures that live outside the Forest?" she said, addressing Wildcat. "Would they know if this was the home of a big predator?"

"Like a real wildcat, for instance," Rock added.

"The Green can communicate with us, so they can communicate with other creatures outside the Forest," Wildcat replied. She yawned. "And they communicate with plants all over the place, don't they? That's how they know what's good to eat. They'd know if there was anything in this cave except us. Hurry up and get our food out. All I want now is to eat and sleep."

"I sleep close, Wild Cat," Ear Music offered.Wildcat turned towards him sharply, like a dangerous animal ready to unsheathe its claws. "Not touch," he added quickly.

They ate a small meal in the last of the daylight, close to the cave entrance. Afterwards, they crept deeper in, to get beyond the reach of the wind. Willow slept huddled against Rock, lying on cold hard stone.

Some time later, she woke to total darkness. In her mind she could sense the Green as a kind of supportive background to her own thoughts. Her ears picked up the sounds of Rock's breathing and her own. Wildcat and Ear Music were too far away for her to hear. Outside, the wind sang harshly, flinging rain against the cliff.

Then, from somewhere inside the cave, came the voice of a stranger.

FIVE – ROCK

Shaken awake, Rock wondered why he was not under Old Timber's wagon. Instead, he lay on hard stone. His next thoughts were of a time before he had ever met Willow, when he had walked the hills alone.

But Willow had hold of his shoulder and was talking into his ear.

"There's someone in here with us," she whispered. "Can you reach a firestone to make a light?"

Rock struggled to pull himself out of sleep. Finally remembering where they were, he thought Willow must just have frightened herself with her own imagination. The Green had led them here. Rock trusted them to give warning if there was danger, and he felt nothing from them through his talent.

"I heard someone talking. Listen!" hissed Willow.

If Wildcat and Ear Music were also awake and alert, neither of them made a sound. For a moment, Rock thought he sensed a movement of air against his face and a change in the smell of his surroundings, but it was gone before he could be certain.

"Stop now, can't you," came an unknown male voice, just then. "I'm needing you to help. I can't see one thing, though I'm trying t' look outside. But I'm thinking we're not alone. Someone was whispering."

Rock had no idea what to do. In desperation, he tried animal talking to Willow, hoping the Green could make it work as they had once done before. There was no answer. She remained motionless, her hand against his chest. A strand of her hair tickled his ear.

It seemed the Green would only use that particular trick in exceptional circumstances. This situation was clearly not exceptional as far as they were concerned. Yet Rock thought he had almost picked up something else with his talent a moment earlier, even though the intruders were people, not animals.

"Ah, sink-yer then, stay there. I'll try and see what's up," the unknown voice said, louder this time. There was a rustling, scraping noise. "State who you are, eh! Who's there?" It sounded like a young man. "You got firestone? A light? We've none. Want t' sit afraid in the dark 'till morning do yer?"

"Nobody move!" Wildcat's voice suddenly rang out.

She was somehow managing to make herself sound bigger and older than she really was. Rock wondered if she was deliberately trying to mimic one of the city elders' women. Even so, her next words surprised him.

"I'm holding a knife to his throat. The boy. I know he's talented. And whatever talent he's got, he's using it so hard he can't hear you or me. Need him, do you? In that case, you'll hold your own hands where I'll be able to see them when my friend strikes a firestone and lights kindling, all right? And you'd better not have a weapon of any kind."

If she was telling the truth, Wildcat had managed to creep across the cave without making a sound. Now she had apparently located a second intruder and claimed to be holding a knife to their throat using her one good arm. Rock knew of her reputation in the marshes for hunting and tracking. Even so, he was astonished.

"No," came Ear Music's voice.

"Yes," replied Wildcat. "Shut up, Ear Music."

"It is wrong." Ear Music sounded very upset.

Rock sympathised, knowing how all Wanderers were taught from early childhood never to use a weapon to hurt another person.

Feeling Willow slide over to one side, Rock eased himself towards the carry-belts they had left coiled on the ground. By touch, he hunted for a firestone.

"Don't you hurt one toenail of him. Don't even try. I'll cut the lot of you ter little bits n' then eat yer." The unknown young man was snarling now. "I don't care how many of yer there are. I'll have every one of yer. Leave him alone."

That meant there were only two strangers, with no firestone between them. Rock wondered what these people could possibly be doing half way down Big Drop.

There was a small pile of wood just inside the cave entrance. Rock had collected it himself. Just before the last daylight had faded, he had gone out to gather every dry fallen stick and twig within easy reach. Now he prepared to make his way over to it.

"Oh!" he heard Willow exclaim softly, giving her presence away with her voice.

She said nothing more. Concerned, Rock edged back to where she sat. Touching her, he _listened_ , and could tell that she was using her own talent.

"Light the fire," Willow said aloud. "Please, there's something..." Then she became silent once more.

Ear Music had not made a sound since Wildcat told him to shut up. Even so, the intruder who had spoken must now have guessed there were only two or three others in the cave. As soon as there was light, he would also see that Wildcat could only fight one-handed.

"When the light comes," Wildcat said just then, obviously addressing the intruder, "you stay where you are. I'm not bluffing. I'm holding a knife to your friend's throat and I'll use it if I have to. Doesn't matter what you'll do after. He'll still be dead."

Rock judged Wildcat and the stranger to be on the other side of the cave, with the unlit fire between them and Willow. Ear Music was probably as close to Wildcat as he could get without upsetting her.

Feeling his way across the ground, Rock edged forward until his outstretched hand met the pile of firewood.

"Here goes," he said, revealing himself by his voice for the first time. Then he struck his firestone sharply against the stone floor.

The tiny glow of the firestone spark caught on dry twigs. Rock shifted around to sit with his back to the cave entrance, sheltering the young fire from any gusts of wind and rain that might blow in from outside.

Slowly, small flickering flames grew bright enough for him to see by, casting moving shadows across the rocks. As he had suspected, the newcomers had entered the cave further along, without stumbling over the firewood. They had settled by the opposite wall, although they were now some distance apart.

The one closest to the entrance was a youngster around Rock's own age. He wore a leather jerkin over his loose shirt, but not in the style of the city elders' people. The leather belt around the young man's hips carried several knife sheaths and tool pouches. He was standing, staring furiously towards the back of the cave. There, in the shadows, Wildcat crouched over the man's companion. The firelight hardly reached that far. With luck, it might not yet be obvious to the first stranger that Wildcat was injured.

Ear Music squatted a short distance from Wildcat, who seemed to ignore him. Willow remained seated where Rock had left her. He could not make out the expression on her face.

"Don't you move," Wildcat addressed the stranger near the cave entrance. "Tell us who you are."

Slowly, the unknown young man turned around, looking first at Rock, then at Willow and Ear Music. Then he returned his attention to Wildcat, who had captured his companion.

"Just you leave him be," he pleaded, lifting his arms out to his sides. "Please, you've got to understand..."

"Help us understand, then," answered Wildcat from her place in the shadows. "What's he doing?"

Before the stranger could answer, Willow got to her feet.

"I can't see him, it's too dark," she said. "Wildcat, there's something..."

Willow took several steps across the floor towards the two who were out of range of the firelight. Before Rock had time to act, the young man by the cave entrance yelled, rushing after her.

"No!" shouted Wildcat instantly. "I warned you."

Rock was about to call out at Wildcat, afraid she would knife Willow by accident. Before he could make a sound, something burst into existence inside his head.

Suddenly, he could _hear_ all kinds of thoughts alongside his own. The shock of it took his breath away. Finally remembering to breathe, and realising what must have happened, he reached out for Willow inside his own mind.

The Green had done whatever it was they could do to let talented people communicate without speaking aloud. They were _talking_ to him, Willow was _talking_ to him and she was simultaneously _talking_ to Wildcat, who was answering.

For the first time, Rock could also recognise the feel of Ear Music's talent. The stone listener added a slow, patient undercurrent to all of the rest of the pattern.

Everything started to make sense to Rock. Except for the angry stranger who seemed to be the only person inside the cave not talented.

"Hest!" Willow screamed out loud. Her voice echoed as it bounced off the rocks. "That's Hest! Wildcat, let go of him. He wouldn't hurt anyone, ever."

The shadows moved. Wildcat came towards the firelight, sheathing her knife. The young man who was a stranger ran past her. Cradling his seemingly unconscious companion in his arms, he lifted him closer to the fire.

Rock stared at them. Now he could clearly see Hest, Willow's childhood friend. He looked just as Rock remembered him, except his hair was a lot longer and he had started to grow a beard. Wildcat had called him a boy, yet he was hardly any younger than his companion, whose skin and hair were pale, seeming almost white in the subtle light.

"Wildcat!" Willow shouted. "You just nearly stabbed Hest! Don't you ever, ever so anything so stupid ever again or I won't forgive you."

"How?" Rock said. He was not replying to Willow's threat, but wondering how Hest could possibly be here with them. As he spoke he could feel the Green's influence on his mind slipping away. They had helped as much as they considered necessary.

"The Green saved his life then." Wildcat sounded annoyed rather than embarrassed.

Slowly, Rock realised that the Green must have recognised the feel of Hest's talent. When the Green learned to trust someone, they were then more willing to trust that person's close friends as well. And the talents of friends had some kind of similar flavour that the Green could identify. That, at least, was how the Wanderers had once explained it to Rock. So that was why the Green had not given any warning of the newcomers' presence in the cave. They must have known Hest was no threat, because his talent held an echo of Willow. And the stranger was Hest's friend, even if he was untalented.

With the help of the Green's influence, Rock had also been able to pick up what Wildcat had already found out. Although Hest looked unconscious, he was using his talent somehow. That talent was water reading. It was rare, and little understood by anyone except another water reader.

Willow introduced herself to Hest's angry companion. "I know Hest," she said. "We grew up together in the hills. I know about his talent. What's wrong with him? Will he be all right? I'm sorry about Wildcat, but she's never met him before."

Rock wished she had not given so much away, quite so soon, even if the Green did appear to trust Hest's companion.

"Deadly she is," the stranger replied. "Even with only one arm free to hold a knife in." Wildcat's expression suggested she might continue to be deadly if it became necessary. Ear Music crept a little closer to her. If she noticed, she showed no sign.

"Just now – when I realised it was Hest – there was the feel of water," Rock said. "He's water reading so hard he's gone inside it somehow, hasn't he?"

"Yes," the stranger agreed. "That's the way he tells it. Going inside the water. Told me that's part of it. When he's a distance away from the water he's reading, the trick is going inside and staying alive. Some's tried it, he says, and forgotten to keep 'emselves breathing."

Rock supposed that if Hest had felt the presence of his old friends when the Green linked everyone's thoughts, he had been too far inside the water to reach out of it. "So what's he so busy doing, then?" he asked.

"Talking a big heap of water onto that Forest Road," answered Hest's companion. With that, he suddenly seemed to slump forwards over Hest's body. He looked up at Willow. "Reckon I've got to believe you," he said. "Is your name Willow?"

Rock felt a small nip of jealousy when Willow answered with a delighted smile.

"He's told you about me?"

"Not much," said the strange young man.

Even in the shadowy firelight, Rock noticed the look of mild disappointment that briefly crossed Willow's face. Sometimes he had wondered if Hest and Willow might have become lovers if they had both stayed in Warner, their home village in the hills.

"I never guessed it was you in the cave. Should've done. You're why he's here," the young man went on. "He said we had to come 'cause something called him to be a help to Willow. She was up on the road, he said, so we climbed all the way up that great cliff. Took three days. I slipped on a loose stone and fell down a rock shelf. Had to cut the pack off my back before the weight pulled me over. Our firestones, blanket, food, water. Dropped through clear air. Sank through a tree top. We never saw where it fell." He was still holding on to Hest, who showed no sign of coming round. "Then we got up to that cursed, blasted, Harvester road and stood on it for a bit, watching a whole great troupe of Wanderers that was heading away up ahead. And then Hest said we'd got to go down that salted cliff again, 'cause that's where you'd gone now. I followed him, like I always do. I'm a salted idiot."

"You're his lover, aren't you," said Willow, startling Rock into a sudden snort of laughter.

The stranger shot him an irritated look. "Yes," the young man answered Willow, pointedly turning away from Rock to face her once more. "M' name's Joren."

Rock liked Hest. If Hest had a lover, Rock was pleased for him. But now he discovered himself feeling suddenly jealous of Willow because she was always so perceptive. "And the water?" he asked, wanting to change the subject.

"It got dark. It started raining." Joren's tone was still grumpy. "I said we should stop before we fell off the cliff and killed ourselves. He said there was something he could do right then t' help Willow. Something t'do with getting the water to flood the road behind those Wanderers. Made no sense t' me. We sat to rest on a ledge and he just went, like he does sometimes. I couldn't think what t' do. Clouds moved a bit, then, and there was moonlight n' starlight, just a short while. I looked about, quick, and I saw the cave entrance from the bit of a gap with no raindrops catching light, see. And it looked t' be a way I knew I could carry him, so I did. It was hard. The light soon went again. You know all else."

"They must have called him," said Willow, wonderingly. Rock knew she was talking about the Green. "How do we get him back out of the water?"

"Can't. He'll come out when he's ready, but we've got to wait for him."

Rock looked at Wildcat, but the marsh girl did not acknowledge him. It might do her good to rest while they waited for Hest to recover. Nevertheless, he knew she was not going to admit it. With a small sigh, he prodded the fire with the burned end of one of the sticks.

SIX – WILDCAT

It was long past dawn. Willow's old friend Hest was still lost inside his unusual talent. Sometimes he rolled from side to side, murmuring to himself, although not using any words Wildcat could make sense of. His smooth, very dark brown skin and long black eyelashes were rather beautiful. Nevertheless, Wildcat was furious with him, because Willow refused to continue travelling down the cliff until he came out of his talent.

The other newcomer, Hest's companion, Joren, had extremely pale skin. He cradled Hest's head in his arms. It was obvious that Joren was greatly in love with this boy from Willow's home village. Wildcat continued to glare at both of them.

She had felt angry for days, partly because she still could not move the arm of her useless injured shoulder and it hurt her all the time.

A healer herself, she was well aware that it was natural for her to feel weak. Her body was not yet recovered from the shock of injury and most of her energy was needed for repair. Knowing such things did not really help. The injury was all her own fault. Back in that coppice on the edge of the city, she had been really stupid. She had let Shim Dealer and Red Dawnweaver manoeuvre her into a position where Shim had been able to grab her. There could be no excuses, she had let her guard down.

Then, to make everything so very much worse, when she had been too tired and weak to help stop them, those Harvesters on the road had attacked the Wanderers. And one of them had killed Flight.

Wildcat had lost many friends and family members when the swamp fever had come to the marsh villages. And shortly before that, her mother had died. Wildcat probably could not have saved any of them. Even if she had already known the healing skills she learned afterwards from Rinnet, Willow's mother. Perhaps Wildcat could never have saved Flight, either. Yet she wanted to have tried, either with healing skill or with fighting skill.

No use as a fighter or a healer, now, she thought. All because of one stupid mistake in letting those scabby-bummed Harvesters catch her.

Ear Music had tried to explain why the Wanderers never fought with weapons. Wildcat had listened, but could not live with such a choice. She was a hunter. It had felt good locating Hest in total darkness, using touch and hearing and sense of smell. Not even nicking his beautiful skin, in spite of only being able to use one of her arms.

The pain of her injured shoulder was now very difficult to bear, but only Wildcat and the Green knew that. She was unwilling to admit to her other friends how much it had cost her to keep holding her knife at Hest's throat for so long. Earlier, when she had left the cave to look for a private place to use as a privy, she had refused offers of help from both Willow and Ear Music. Nevertheless, two Green had hidden behind some rocks close by.

They knew how frustrated she felt. They would not step in to help unless she really needed them. Today's pair were different from the two who had trailed her yesterday. These were both female, one a lot older than the other. Wildcat knew they were now resting a short distance from the cave entrance, although she could not see them from inside. The younger one had a brown stripe all the way down the skin of her back. The older had much darker green hair on one side of her head than on the other. Wildcat now recognised each of the Green's faces, although they did not seem to name one another.

The Green repeatedly instructed Wildcat to become calm. They reached out to her with their unique communication, like talent, but not quite the same. But Wildcat did not want to be calm. Stubbornly, she kept hold of her anger. It was what kept her sharp and on the lookout for danger.

Sooner or later, for certain, the Green would need to be protected against dangers they could not yet imagine. They were not familiar with the environment beyond their Forest home. Sometimes they also seemed unaware of their ignorance. They had not warned Wildcat or her friends about Hest and Joren's approach.

Afterwards, their responses to her questions suggested they had thought everyone could taste how Willow's talent and Hest's were those of close friends. They had not understood that Wildcat and the others could not sense Hest's approach, and his relationship to Willow. The Green had been astounded by Wildcat's attack on Hest, although they seemed to understand her pride at the skill used to carry it out.

With the exception of the two who were intending to stay close to Wildcat, the rest of the Green were now making their way further down the cliff. She allowed her attention to drift beyond the cave and _hear_ them. They warned that the land beyond the cliff had no streams or rivers. After only a moment's consideration, Wildcat got to her feet.

"I'll go out and set a water trap," she said out loud, addressing her companions inside the cave. "We should have done it last night. It's raining now, but for how long? We know it's going to be dry at the bottom of the cliff. The Wanderers said so."

"Need any help?" asked Rock.

"No. You and Willow should be here when your friend wakes up."

"I help," said Ear Music, predictably.

Wildcat deliberately let out an extremely loud sigh.

The Wanderer boy was attractive and interesting. It would be good to enjoy some love-touching with him, just as soon as she was in less pain. Only, he gave every appearance of wanting the loving to last. Wildcat was not looking for a living partner or even a long-term lover.

Who knew how much time any of them had left together? They were on their way to the Forest, where the deadly dangers included violent people as well as hungry creatures and poisonous plants.

On top of everything else, Wildcat thought Ear Music was a ridiculous name. Even if it was just the translation of a Wanderer word for a kind of sea creature's shell. She had laughed when he first told her. Luckily, he had not seemed to notice.

She left the cave without looking to see whether he followed. After a few moments, she heard him behind her. The two Green trailed them both.

Making her way along the cliff side, Wildcat dodged beneath small trees and bushes, to stay out of the worst of the rain. Eventually, she found a clear, relatively flat slab of rock surrounded by overhanging plants. These acted like gutters, increasing the quantity of water reaching the stone. There was enough room to lay out a good sized water trap. Inside a carrying pouch on her belt was a large piece of oiled cloth. After shaking it free, she turned to glare at Ear Music.

"All right, you can help now," she admitted.

He helped lay out the cloth and they carefully tucked its edges around loose stones, making an artificial pond. Neither of them spoke for quite some time.

Eventually, Wildcat broke the silence. "What's your real name?" she asked, having placed the last stone. "I mean, how do we say your name in your own language?"

"Ear Music is real name," he answered, straightening up, yet looking down at his own feet. "Wanderers – we young ones – we use a name to be not so different from you. To fit in."

"Oh, I see. It's just... the thing is... to us, Ear Music is... it's... well, quite funny." Intending to illustrate this point, she started to laugh. Even his expression of sudden hurt was not enough to make her want to stop. All the frustration of being in pain and unable to use one arm suddenly condensed into irritation at Ear Music's name.

"Neamis," he said at last. "Ear Music means Neamis."

By the look on his face, he had previously had no idea that non-Wanderers found his name funny.

"I... I'm sorry..." Wildcat was immediately ashamed of allowing herself to hurt his feelings. "Neamis. That's a nice sound. Can we call you that? We all called Innamarrit by her Wanderer name."

"You can. If Neamis not make you laugh," was his miserable-sounding reply.

Contrite, Wildcat reached out with her good arm to pat his shoulder.

"I like Wild Cat. I like you," he said next.

"Ear Music – Neamis – I like you. It was your name I was laughing at. I wasn't laughing at you."

His face suddenly changed. He stared at her as if she had just betrayed him. Then he turned smartly and walked away, heading towards the cave without looking back.

"Oh, slithering, stinking slime puddles! Boggits! What did I say?" Wildcat watched him go. After some time she made her way along the cliff alone, going as fast as she could, which was actually quite slowly on account of her arm.

Not wanting to dwell on how much she might have offended Ear Music – Neamis, she fretted about her useless arm instead. Willow had said it would be a couple of moons before Wildcat should start using it. Innamarrit had said much the same.

Wildcat planned to begin testing it sooner than that, but she would wait until they reached the base of Big Drop. If she fell, she did not want her friends or the Green risking themselves to try and save her.

Carefully making her way along the cliff, she was aware of the two Green close by. Not wanting their opinion on her treatment of Neamis, she asked them how they found water. Talking with them was both like, and unlike, animal talking and tree speaking. They did not use words, so understanding them required Wildcat to translate for herself what they told her. But their thoughts and feelings were far closer to her own than those of animals and plants.

The two Green trailing her had seemed interested in the water trap, coming closer to watch its construction. Talking to her without speaking aloud, they replied that, in times when there was no rain, they could get all the water they needed from plants. There was usually enough stored water in roots or stems for them to share.

Wildcat leaned against the trunk of a of a rockgripper tree, to rest. She wanted to talk to the other Green, too. The larger group further down the cliff. Letting her talent expand, she passed many other creatures, small and large, but no other people.

The other Green were travelling in their own easy, graceful way. Even over the steep slopes of Big Drop, they trod barefoot with confidence on sharp rocks, loose stones, slippery wet mosses and exposed tree roots slicked with rainwater. Rain slid over their skin and hair, washing it and at the same time nourishing the little green plant-like creatures that lived there.

Some of these particular Green had never even seen each other before they had been captured. Someone had managed to trap them in different areas of the Forest. Wildcat did not know how that had been done. The Green themselves remembered a time of great confusion, having been tumbled around before lying stunned and wounded.

They were naturally curious, and knew how to move through the Forest without alerting predators. Perhaps they had been trapped in nets. Maybe after going too close to the harvest to investigate it. They each remembered people who had attacked them with sharp-tipped sticks. Later, other people had forced them to go into something the Green had thought was like the inside of a hollow tree.

Wildcat had seen the wooden crate the Harvesters had used to transport these Green back to the city and keep them locked up in a spice warehouse. It was impossible to explain to them why the Harvesters had done that, although she had tried. The Green had no knowledge of coin, or even of private property. Sharing came naturally to them. It was essential to their survival in the Forest.

Well, she thought to herself with considerable bitterness, the Green's generosity could not save them, or their Forest home. Harvesters should never be trusted.

The harvest of the Forest had caused a lot of river silt to flow downstream as far as the marshes. The result had been an outbreak of swamp fever that had grown out of control. Many of the marsh villagers had died, leaving Wildcat with an agony inside, that never went away. She tried her best not to focus on it too much, thinking instead of how to make the best to use of all the life remaining in her own hands.

Soon after the first summer of swamp fever, Harvesters had contacted the surviving marsh villagers. They had suggested draining the marshes for profit. None had ever admitted to understanding there was any connection between the fever and the harvest of the Forest.

Wildcat had left the marshes later on, going right into the Spice City. There, she had hoped to find some Rats who would help her get to the Forest. In the city, Harvesters had tried to make her work in a Spice warehouse that no longer contained any spices. The place had been used to process the carcasses of harvested forest animals. It had been so terrible that Wildcat had almost decided to stop animal talking for good.

It was lucky she had not done so. Without talent, she could never have learned to _talk_ with the Green. Now she was determined to see them home to the Forest, or die trying.

The main party of Green were now approaching something that seemed of huge interest to them. Wildcat could not exactly see through their eyes, she had to decipher sensations picked up from their thoughts. Eventually, she understood enough to work out they had come to the site of a recent landslide, caused by a rush of water down the cliff. Many plants were buried in thick mud. Several trees had been uprooted by the flow. Those trees were now sliding down towards the foot of the cliff, but their roots would eventually anchor them, allowing them to grow in their new locations.

The Green knew Wildcat was _listening_. They let her know how pleased they were that such a mudslide had not occurred above the cave where she and her friends had just spent the night.

SEVEN – HEST

The flow had stilled at the surface. Deeper down, numerous small currents and eddies carried mud and debris in complicated dances. It had been no small task to redirect the flood. Yet it was exhilarating, perhaps the hardest thing Hest had ever done with his talent.

The Green had tried to help. He understood who they were now. The water recognised their rain singing, but they were not specialised water readers. Their influence had been too gentle to have redirected it themselves. And they were far from home.

For the past moon, Hest had been studying the wild water that flowed over the cliff in this area. So he had known just how to nudge it around a boulder, under whose overhang a bog had already formed and loosened the soil. The little mud flow that resulted from Hest's nudge had soon grown stronger. It had scoured itself a channel in the earth like a small river, ending in a waterfall.

The new channel had accepted a run of water that would otherwise have created a stream in just the wrong place. Without Hest's intervention, it would have built up just above the mouth of this cave that Joren had brought him into. The cave where the Green had earlier said they had taken Willow.

When they had first called to Hest through his talent, a few days ago, he had not known exactly who those voices were. But they had a flavour of the Forest. That had been enough to make him trust them and begin to suspect who they must be.

Then the Green had _talked_ to him of Willow, sending him up the cliff in search of her. He had not climbed fast enough, so they had directed him back down.

Later, the Green had let him know that it would be helpful to Willow if the road was flooded just behind those Wanderers that Hest and Joren had seen passing by. So he had done his best to encourage it to happen. The road already interfered with the way rainfall ran over the cliff. Debris scattered along the road's edges from passing traffic could easily fall into drainage channels and block them. Hest had encouraged small flows of water to push some convenient piles of travellers' litter in a certain direction.

He had been pleased at having a chance to work with some of the legendary Green, even if he had no idea what they were doing outside the Forest. And he was looking forward to learning all about how Willow had become friends with them. But that conversation would happen later on. For now, he was deep inside the water's flow.

Going along with the flow, Hest had not questioned the Green's suggestions, only carried them out to the best of his ability. Now the Green let him know that the work had been a success, as far as they could tell. They could not move water like Hest did through his talent. Yet they were more able to make sense of the water's part in the whole of the landscape. It was as though they read the whole of their surroundings at once, not just the watery parts.

Since the last time he saw Willow, Hest had spent a great deal of time learning about his talent. He had even tried _reading_ the sea. Water accepted whatever it came to, going around or inside or through solid things, hardly ever becoming still.

It was very hard to drag himself out of it now, back into the solidity of his own body. The flow was ceaseless and without intention. Water readers were able to nudge it where they chose, when their understanding was enough. But its mindless power could be mesmerising and addictive. To consciously take oneself out, after a stretch of immersion, always required a great deal of effort.

Hest reminded himself that Willow was nearby. He would finally be able to see her and speak to her again. There were others, too. Rock and another animal talker, and there was a young stone listener. Hest had been aware of them all in that moment when the Green had opened all of their talents into one great web. All except Joren, who had closed himself to talent.

He knew it was dangerous to stay too long in the flow of water that was such a distance away from his body. It could drag him apart from himself. If that happened, he would never see Joren or Willow again. Nor would he see the Green.

The Green had said they were all on a journey in answer to the call of the Forest. It called to Hest, too. He would never get there unless he pulled himself out of the water.

Forcing his awareness back inside the boundary of his own skin, Hest opened his eyes. Blinking, stretching out his fingers and toes, he prepared himself to sit up.

EIGHT – WILLOW

"You mean if the Green hadn't called you here and you hadn't sent the water down the cliff somewhere else, we would have been washed away last night?" Willow demanded of Hest.

She found herself suddenly thrown into a rush of feelings and memories. Two summers past, her grandmother had drowned in a flash flood. Glancing at Rock, Willow saw an echo of her own memories in his expression.

From the first moment she had recognised Hest, Willow had felt light with excitement. Now, as the truth of his words sank in, the joy of their reunion was flattened.

"Not quite," Hest replied. "A mudslide would be more likely to fill up the cave mouth and trap you in here to starve to death. If you tried to dig your way out, or the Green dug their way in, that's when the mud could fall and smother you. But the water would have already moved on."

"Well, at least we wouldn't have drowned," Rock commented, not sounding particularly reassured.

Suddenly, Willow wanted to be outside. Refusing to give in to panic, she went to stand by the cave entrance, instead. From there, she looked out beyond the dripping rocks. There was little to see but misty grey cloud.

Wildcat was still out there somewhere. Ear Music had returned to the cave alone, saying only that Wildcat was safe in the company of two Green, so did not need help. It had been obvious the two of them had argued, but everyone had tactfully avoided questioning him further. Instead, they had discussed the strange abilities of the Green. Explaining them to Joren, in particular, at least as far as they understood it themselves.

"Thank you Hest," Ear Music said, solemnly, from somewhere behind Willow.

She turned to look back at the others. The small fire had gone out. Hest and Joren were eating pieces of Wanderer flatbread. From where she stood, Willow could not see any of their faces very clearly. The interior of the cave was still very dark.

Hest got to his feet and came forward to stand beside her. Fresh air and daylight were no more than two steps away from them both. Feeling a little more comfortable again, Willow soon began telling him what had happened to her in the city.

He listened sympathetically, without comment. Willow knew that the others listened, too. Joren knew nothing of her story. Much of it must also be new to Ear Music. Rock probably hated being reminded of it, but there was no way to spare his feelings right at that moment. Willow needed Hest to understand. He was one of her two oldest friends.

Finally, when she described the arrival of Goshi in the Spice City, Hest began to laugh. He kept laughing until he almost choked.

"Oh, I'm s...sorry," he spluttered, eventually. "It's not funny at all. But Goshi!"

After a moment's pause he was suddenly serious again. Laying a hand on Willow's shoulder and looking into her eyes, he went on. "You've been treated so badly by those Harvesters. And I'm sorry about the branding, really sorry. It must've hurt so much. But they're wrong. No one can belong to anyone else. You've changed on the inside since I saw you last, but you belong to yourself. You always will."

Willow smiled, gratefully. His company was so familiar and comforting, even in such strange surroundings.

"Oh, but Goshi..." Hest was laughing once more. "Who'd have thought the old man could walk to the city from Warner like that and take on the Harvesters – the whole lot of them."

"Tell me about Warner, please Hest," she begged. "How was everyone there, when you left them?"

"Well, I left before Goshi did, so he will have told you most of what I know. But Emmie was fine. Her baby was due, but Rinnet didn't seem to be expecting any problems. Rinnet was fine. She was talking about finding a new apprentice tree speaker, since you've got other things to do now. Old Weary had a bad winter and that was hard on Old Jesty, of course. Oh, and Frost is back with Anna. He came home to look after the mill. Druse wasn't there when I left, though. I didn't know she was back until you told me. No wonder Goshi decided to wander."

"Goshi did tell me most of that, but it's good to hear it again. I do get homesick sometimes," Willow admitted. "I sometimes try and reach Rinnet by tree speaking, especially through willow trees. But it's hard over such a long distance."

She did not mention Flight and her talent of far-talking. That was for Ear Music to share later, if he chose to. Instead, she looked out at the cliff side in silence for a while, thinking of her home village.

It was not entirely pleasing to hear that Frost, Willow's father, had returned to Anna. Though it was good that someone was running the mill. The idea of another apprentice taking Willow's place at the Healers' Cottages with Rinnet hurt a bit, too.

Hest remained close, not interrupting Willow's thoughts. Eventually, needing a distraction, she asked him about what he had done with his talent before preventing a mudslide. He replied with an explanation of how he had been able to persuade a huge amount of water to flood the Great Forest Road.

"It could stay there for days," he concluded.

"Thank you," Willow said, amazed to hear just how strong his talent had grown. "That's certainly going to slow down any city Harvesters who might have been already following the Wanderers."

"That was the Green's plan," Hest agreed. "I understand now, I think. Though I didn't at the time. They didn't warn me about the danger of a mudslide until later. They miss out a lot, don't they?"

Joren had got to his feet. He came forward to stand beside Hest. "I'm understanding much I couldn't make sense of before," he said.

As Joren was speaking, Rock and Ear Music came forward as well. All five of them then looked out at the dripping cliff side. The daylight was brightening. Willow thought it must already be approaching noon. As soon as Wildcat returned, they would need to travel onwards down the cliff. Letting her talent reach out, she could tell that most of the Green were already a long way further on.

She remembered that Joren had not expressed any surprise on hearing her description of the Green's capture by city Harvesters. Willow knew that Rock had not wanted to mention the Green in front of the newcomers. It had actually been Hest who had talked of them first. The Green obviously trusted him, and Joren as well.

"Are mudslides common on the Drop?" she asked, returning to the worry that had first brought her to stand at the cave mouth.

"I think they are quite common after rain, yes," Hest replied. "Water runs straight off the road above, then down the cliff. There's nothing up there to catch it or drink it. There's no trees or other plants near the road anymore. Horses and bullocks on harvest runs eat anything that starts growing there, or they trample on it. And the earth on the road is packed down hard. Water doesn't soak through. So, with the cliff being so steep, water just goes straight over the edge. Some of it collects in rock hollows, but it also seeps through cracks. Then it forces stones and mud to start shifting. Luckily, it doesn't often rain around here."

"Rocks here not... not like to hold water inside," Ear Music added. "Water must go over and around. Runs away fast."

Turning towards the Wanderer, Hest dipped his head in a gesture of approval. "Yes. In some other places the rock can soak up water as well as the soil. But not here. And there are waterfalls over the drop when it rains, but no streams or rivers in the land underneath. There might be rivers deep underground, though."

"Yes, agreed Ear Music. Wanderers talk of soil full of sand. Water falls through. But under the sand, rocks hide."

"Rocks guide the water to the sea," Hest confirmed.

"So that knife-happy girl outside is right," Joren spoke up suddenly. "Collect water while you can get it if you're planning a journey below the cliff."

"Were you going somewhere else before the Green called Hest to help us?" Willow asked then, addressing them both. It felt wonderful to be in Hest's company again, but she knew he must have been following some other path of his own.

"Not up the cliff, that's for certain," Joren replied. "We were making for the Forest, just like you, only not in such a hurry. Hest had th' idea t' study water flow near the cliff. He didn't want t' waste a chance to learn from it."

That was not at all unlike Hest, so Willow accepted Joren's statement without question. She would have liked to ask straight away how the couple had met. It was clear they were already very close. But then Ear Music began to ask Hest more about his talent, and Joren said nothing else for quite some time.

Hest described how he had met a succession of water readers since leaving Warner. There had been a riverwoman at the far edge of the hills, then a woman who lived alone on the seashore, then two men in two tiny coastal villages. Each of them had taught him a great deal about water reading, and afterwards sent him on to the next to discover more.

"The seawoman, Greyfin, knew how to read wild waves so she could stand in the sea without getting her feet wet," he said. "I asked her to teach me how. She said there was no other way but practice. I did practise, day after day after day. But I just got salted and cold. I'll try again. I will. But she sent me to the sailing men. She said I might do better to learn from a boat on the water. So I went in boats. I learned to sail. Then I met Joren." Looking over his shoulder at his lover, he gave an affectionate smile. "But whenever I was in contact with land-water, I heard the Forest. It called louder the more I learned water reading. Is it the same for all of you?"

"Yes," Willow agreed.

"And me," said Rock. "Wildcat too."

Ear Music nodded his head in confirmation.

Joren remained silent and unmoving, offering no further explanation of his own journey.

"Water flows from the Forest to the sea," Hest went on. "And from the sea it lifts into the air and grows into clouds that travel back to the Forest and make rain there. The Forest is just as much made up of water as it's made of rocks and plants and creatures."

"So we'll travel there together then?" Willow asked, looking from Hest to Joren. "Or would you rather go back up the cliff and follow the road?"

Joren shrugged in a way that suggested he would go along with whatever Hest wanted.

That afternoon, Willow finally got the chance to talk privately with Rock. By then, the whole party, including Hest, Joren and Wildcat, were continuing their climb down Big Drop.

Hest and Joren had taken the lead, each carrying as many water sacks as they could manage. Rock and Willow followed a short distance after. Wildcat was some way behind them, flanked by two of the Green and followed by Ear Music. As far as Willow could tell, he and Wildcat had not spoken to each other since early morning. Nor would they tell the others why.

When Wildcat had returned to the cave, she had not argued against Hest and Joren's company. But that might have been due to the Green's opinions on the two newcomers, rather than her own. Willow had noticed the way the marsh girl seemed to frown each time she happened to catch sight of Joren.

Wildcat had described her water trap to Hest. Straight away, he had gone out and _talked_ the captured rain into some carrying sacks. That act seemed to have made the marsh girl more willing to accept him, if not Joren. From then on, Willow thought Wildcat treated Hest just as she did Rock, as a companion, if not yet a friend.

Now the rain had stopped, though water still dripped from leaves and trickled through rocky channels. Willow judged the noise of it was enough to prevent any of the others overhearing a private conversation between herself and Rock.

"You don't mind Hest and Joren being with us do you?" she asked.

"I think I believe him when he says he saved us from a mudslide," Rock said, not completely answering the question. "Wildcat seems to think it's true. She told me she picked it up from the Green. Remember when I had to help her check the straps on her travel belt? You and Hest were dividing up the water sacks and she wouldn't accept any help from Ear Music because they've upset each other somehow. She wouldn't tell me why, but she was prepared to talk about the Green, instead. It's incredible how much that girl's able to understand from them. Though I think she's a bit jealous of the way Hest has learned so quickly. If he's telling the truth, he understands them just as well as we do, already."

Willow believed Hest without question. She had known him all her life. With an effort, she stopped herself from saying so at once. Rock had been raised by Harvesters, who lied all the time. And Wildcat had always said she did not completely trust anyone at all.

"Why do you think the Forest calls all of us?" Willow asked, to change the subject. "Do you think it's just shouting in pain? Or is there something we can do to help? I'd go there even if we hadn't ended up with these Green, but I don't really know why."

"I think hearing the Forest is like hearing the Green," answered Rock. "Like all the talents. We don't talk the same language. All we can do is listen well and learn to interpret what we hear. I've been hoping I'll understand better once I'm inside the Forest. That's how the talents generally work, isn't it? It's easier when you can touch the other thing you want to reach."

"Oh. Yes, you're right."

They continued to make their way carefully down the rocky cliff.

"Here's another question," Rock said, after a while. "Why is Joren going to the Forest if he's not talented? Is it only that he's in love with Hest?"

"I don't see why that shouldn't be the reason. You told Old Timber you were coming on this trip just to be with me."

"I did," he agreed. "And I meant it. I believe the harvest should be stopped, but I'm not sure the Rats can actually do it. Not really."

"Well I can't not try," was all Willow could think to say. Her words came out more forcefully than she had intended.

They came to a very slippery area of flat black rock sloping downwards. There were no trees nearby with overhanging branches to hold on to. For some time, it was necessary to concentrate only on where to place the next step.

All of the travellers continued to struggle on while the daylight lasted. The base of the drop could occasionally be glimpsed far below. There was a long way yet to go.

That night, everyone not Green sheltered between the roots of an elderly rockgripper tree. The Green seemed happy to sleep on a dangerous looking ledge under a rock overhang.

Another tiring day followed, and then a second night out in the open.

Close to noon on the fourth day after leaving the Great Forest Road, the travellers finally reached the base of Big Drop. The area nearest the cliff seemed cold and damp, even though no further rain had fallen. Against the rocks, in the shade of the cliff, many ferns and a few flowering plants were growing. Further away from the cliff, the ground looked increasingly dry. There were a few groups of short trees further out, growing in clumps as if huddled together for company. Otherwise, the plants were mostly grasses and spiny bushes.

Willow immediately prepared to change the bandage on Wildcat's shoulder. Innamarrit had very strictly instructed them both about the need to remember to do so as soon as they finished the climb.

In all the time it had taken to get down from the cave, Wildcat and Ear Music had barely spoken to each other at all. As far as Willow knew, none of her companions had managed to find out why. Not even by _talking_ with the Green.

"Let's do your bandage, Wildcat," she said, feeling horribly weary.

"Just like you promised Innamarrit," her friend replied. "She's not here to check, you know."

There was no aggression in Wildcat's tone of voice, in spite of her grumpy choice of words.

Willow knew her friend was far too tired to argue properly. She unwrapped the bandage and lifted off the pad of healing leaves that covered Wildcat's shoulder. The wound had recently bled in places, but did not look badly inflamed.

Tiny woven leaves were just visible, still holding the torn skin together. The Green had threaded those into Wildcat's skin, just moments after she was first injured. The leaves were blackened, but not yet starting to disintegrate. As Willow gently wiped the surrounding skin with freshly picked and crushed plantain leaves, the two Green nearby started singing out loud.

"It feels nice," Wildcat said. "I can feel the singing going into my skin."

Willow did not ask her to explain. She could almost feel the effects of the Green's song in her own wounded skin. Somehow, she thought, they must know how to make sounds that triggered the hearer's body into responding in a particular way.

She found herself wondering just how many other unusual skills the Green might have. The larger party of Green had not yet gone very far from Big Drop. Willow could sense them, even though she could not understand them as well as Wildcat did. They seemed settled, as though they had found a place to rest for a time.

"They want to stay here tonight," Wildcat said, just then. "They want to do something because it's full moon."

"Oh! Do you mean they're going to skin dance? Here? I didn't pick up anything like that from them."

A long time ago, Willow had believed the Green were imaginary creatures who only existed in stories. Then she had learned they were not only real, but they also drummed and skin danced better than anyone.

Wildcat went quiet, wearing the faraway look that meant she was using her talent.

"No," she said after a while. "They won't skin dance outside the Forest. But I think they want to do a kind of drumming."

"They haven't got any drums. How do they make them? Will they let us join in?"

"It's private," replied Wildcat. "We'll hear it, though."

Willow had freshly wrapped her friend's shoulder in one of the clean bandages supplied by Innamarrit for the purpose. Quickly, she checked the skin dance wound on Wildcat's other arm. It was nicely closed over and not in need of any attention. Somehow, Wildcat had managed to take good care of the smaller wound by herself.

"Do the others know yet? Let's go and tell them. This is wonderful," Willow said, yet she did not move.

There was something else she wanted to say to Wildcat before catching up with the others. "So what's up between you and Ear Music?" she asked suddenly, trying to sound casual.

"I don't know!" The reply came so fast, it was clear that Wildcat wished she did know.

"Have you asked him?"

"Sort-of. I did try, but he couldn't explain, so we stopped saying anything at all. It's so difficult when he isn't used to our language and I don't know the Wanderers' language."

"But you're so good at understanding the Green."

"I know. It seems I can translate the thoughts of the Green, but I can't understand one Wanderer boy. Don't you think I've noticed how stupid that is?"

"Couldn't you ask the Green to...?"

"No. Come on, let's tell the others about the drumming. The Green want me to explain to everyone else. It's easier for them than making everything clear to you all separately."

A few moments later, Wildcat sounded full of confidence once more as she gave her news to the others. Then, perhaps to avoid any more questions about her argument with Ear Music, Wildcat decided to go alone to visit to the place the Green had chosen for their drumming.

It was close to sunset by the time Wildcat returned. She described a rough and stony area with a smelly bog in the bottom, surrounded by a ring of shrubs and brambles.

The non-green settled for the evening in the centre of a small group of trees. A soft, thick layer of leaf litter was contained by their trunks and sheltered by branches that still held some fresh leaves. Above, golden light picked out tints of red and brown. The trees told Willow they were able to grow well among rocks where there was little soil and the only water to be found was often buried deep. She thanked them for their shelter.

Rock and Ear Music had found a hezzleberry bush not far away. Wildcat dug out a hoard of nuts hidden among the roots of a tree. She claimed to be able to tell that a squirrel had put them there, but had moved on to live elsewhere. Willow was not sure if her friend was using her powerful animal talking skill or her lesser talent of tree speaking, or both.

After a supper of nuts and berries, everyone chewed on a small piece of dried wayfarer's bark. Catching Rock's eye, Willow then glanced quickly from Ear Music to Wildcat. In response, Rock only looked up at the sky above his head.

Most of the talk was about the Green and their drumming. Joren seemed even more disappointed than the others at not being allowed to watch.

"Will we not take any part in it then?" he asked. "Your story was that you three were rescuers of the Green. Seems t' me it's them takin' charge now."

Willow thought he was right, to some extent, but Wildcat reacted angrily.

"We rescued them," Wildcat insisted. "You don't know. You weren't there. And we don't join in with their ceremonies unless they ask us to. That would just be rude."

"I think maybe they can't talk with us when they're involved in it," Rock put in, thoughtfully. "Like... when I'm drumming, I forget everything else."

"I know," Hest agreed. "Lost inside it."

"Y' mean like you do with th' water, but not using talent at all?" suggested Joren. "I understand that. It'd mean they wouldn't notice something like a wild animal coming."

Looking pointedly away from Wildcat's direction, Ear Music spoke next. "We are like true circle and friends' circle."

Close to the Spice City, Wanderers had skin danced within two rings of helpers who kept them safe from interference by curious onlookers.

"Yes, that's what we are," Willow agreed at once. "Aren't we, Wildcat?"

When her friend did not reply, Willow's patience ran out.

"What is it with you two?" she said. "Ear Music, what did Wildcat do to upset you?"

Looking up, the Wanderer boy shrugged his shoulders. Then he looked down into his lap.

"She wants to say she's sorry," Willow went on, giving Wildcat a sharp look to prevent her interrupting, "but how can she, when she doesn't know what it is she's done wrong?"

After a long pause, Ear Music eventually turned to Rock. "I gave her my name. She laughs at my name," he said.

Rock had spent time in the company of Wanderers before, when he was younger. Willow hoped he understood more than she did about Ear Music's admission.

"You told her your Wanderer name?" Rock asked him. "Oh. Then I think I get it. Wildcat, what did you do after Ear Music told you his Wanderer name?"

Wildcat looked puzzled. "It's..." she started to say.

Rock interrupted her. "Don't... That's why he's upset. Wildcat..."

He was smiling. Willow thought he was trying not to laugh. Hest and Joren were obviously listening with great interest. She hoped Rock would be gentle in what he said next. Wildcat was not likely to forgive him if he embarrassed her.

"...When a Wanderer asks someone if they want to become lovers, they say something like, 'if my name does not make you laugh, may we meet after sunset?' or 'if my name does not make you laugh, may we share an evening meal?' If you told Ear Music his name makes you laugh, he may well have misunderstood your meaning."

"But I told him I didn't mean..."

"My name makes Wild Cat laugh," Ear Music repeated, sounding very miserable indeed. "First time, when we were new to each other, I did not listen. I hoped... but she still laughs at my name."

"I... what?" Wildcat got from a sitting position into a crouch without using her hands at all. She looked ready to fight, although there was not room to stand up under the tree's low branches.

Willow found herself partly distracted, thinking about whether Rock might ever have been invited to spend time with Wanderer whose name did not make him laugh.

"Interesting." It was Joren who spoke next. "And sweet. So go on girl, give your answer. You two acting like ruffled gulls has been a pain to me, it has."

After shooting a furious look towards Joren, Wildcat turned to face Ear Music.

"Lovers as in two who share love-play, or as in two who make three?" she asked, managing to sound threatening, even when appearing to give way.

Innamarrit had supplied both Wildcat and Willow with packets of seema leaf before they had parted company with her. If either of them wanted to share love with a man, they would not get pregnant by accident.

"Play. Share love. Pleasure. No babies." Ear Music now sounded more hopeful.

"How was I supposed to know that's what you meant?" Wildcat demanded. "I'm not a Wanderer. I can't speak your language. How was I supposed to understand what you wanted? Why didn't you just say you wanted us to be lovers? I was expecting that to happen fairly soon."

"Sorry," Ear Music replied meekly. "Sorry Wild Cat... Wildcat. Answer now?"

"No. Maybe tomorrow. I'm tired and I want some sleep before the Green wake us all up with their drumming."

Willow knew her friend well enough not to try and talk her out of this harsh response. She noticed Ear Music smile to himself, so perhaps he did, too.

They were all tired after the climb down Big Drop. Soon, everyone joined Wildcat in catching a little sleep.

Some time after that, Willow awoke to bright moonlight and a quite extraordinary sound.

NINE – ROCK

Roots and leaf litter shuddered, branches and twigs vibrated. The tree above Rock's head shed more of its leaves, making falling shadows against the moonlight.

It was bright enough for him to see the faces of his companions quite clearly. Willow sat with her back to a wide tree trunk, her face tilted up as she listened to the sounds made by the Green. Wildcat was smiling, her eyes glinting. Beside her, Ear Music's expression was solemn. Hest sat cross-legged with his eyes closed. Joren, as usual, appeared to be closely watching Hest.

The sound was unlike any drumming Rock had ever heard before. There were definitely rhythms, but he could not guess what kind of instruments were being used. There were small, thickly popping noises, and a deeper booming that was more felt than heard. Then, every few moments, came a sort-of grumbling howl. Rock tried to imagine what kind of drum could make such a sound, but he came up with no ideas.

"So what happens when th' weather's poor?" Joren spoke above the noise. "Do they carry on if they can't see th' full moon at all?"

"Hill villagers do," Willow answered him. "We just used to guess the time of moonrise from the colour of the sky."

"And what if moonrise comes before sunset?"

"Well, we just used to start the drumming at sunset, but I don't know about the Green."

"No drumming in fishing villages," Joren commented. "Not on land, anyway. For us, th' moon only meant tides n' fish. Drums kept time fer rowing, maybe."

The drumming seemed to penetrate everything alive, as well as earth and air and stone. For a while, Rock simply concentrated on enjoying the noise, losing himself in it, hardly even aware of using his talent. Then, all of a sudden, he was certain that something different had intruded, something animal.

"People!" he said urgently, having sharpened his talent and paid more careful attention. "There are people nearby and the noise is making them afraid."

The area was supposed to be uninhabited. They had not expected to encounter any other people before getting closer to the coast.

Hest had opened his eyes and was looking curiously at Rock. He leaned forward to ask, "You can read people now? Inside their minds?"

"Not exactly. Not usually." Until that moment, Rock had not realised he was doing anything out of the ordinary. "Something just happens to our talents when the Green are nearby. Didn't Willow tell you?"

"The Green are not using talent now," Hest replied. "You've changed a lot since we last met."

There was no time for more discussion, or for Rock to consider whether Hest was right. He saw that Wildcat was already creeping out from the shelter of the tree, with Ear Music close behind.

Exchanging a silent glance with Willow, Rock moved to follow. As he crept forward, he was aware of her close behind him. Hest and Joren accompanied them. No one said another word.

Wildcat led them to the edge of the area where the Green were hidden. The trees and shrubs surrounding the small hollow were an indication of its boggy nature. The plants also shielded the Green from view. The area smelled strongly of rotting things. As far as Rock knew, there were no large streams nearby. The water was probably stagnant most of the time.

It did not take long to find the location of the intruders. Four men stood several paces out from the trees. Rock noticed at once that they all carried long, heavy-looking sticks.

In spite of the moonlight, he was not close enough to make out the detail of their clothing. They appeared to be arguing with each other. It was impossible to hear what they were saying because of the drumming.

At last, leaving off their argument, the four strangers looked round and discovered they were not alone.

"Is it you?" one of them called out, immediately. "How're you doin' it eh? How're you making that awful noise?"

"It's not awful, it's beautiful," Wildcat shouted back. "Who are you? What kind of people are too stupid to enjoy good drumming?"

Rock wished she could have been more tactful. These men looked strong and used to fighting. Wildcat's skill with a hunting knife would be no match for their heavy sticks if they chose to use them.

"Tha's not drums," another of the men called out, addressing his companions. "I know the sound o' drums. We sh'd put a stop to it, I say. Sounds dangerous, like they warned us."

He certainly sounded scared. Rock felt a certain amount of sympathy. He also wondered what danger they had been warned about, and by whom.

For some time, now, strange noises had been thumping along the earth and pushing through the air. If these men noticed any regularity to the sounds, they were obviously not finding the rhythm at all reassuring. They could not be talented. If they were, they would have known that every nearby living thing felt something that Rock interpreted as pleasure.

Hoping to reassure the frightened men, he began clapping his hands to a simple beat that fitted into the patterns the Green were making. His intention was to help the strangers understand that what they were hearing was music.

"S' music, see?" said Joren loudly, much to Rock's surprise.

He nodded gratefully in Joren's direction. Hest's lover seemed to have read the situation perfectly well, talent or not.

Unfortunately, the strangers only raised their sticks aggressively.

"Make it stop!" shouted the one who had spoken first.

Hest took a step towards them, holding out his arms, palms open. "We're not making the noise, only listening," he said. Although he raised his voice to be heard over the drumming, his tone remained gentle.

"Why don't you join us?" Willow added.

Rock ceased clapping. Too late, he wished he had not given the strangers a reason to link the young'uns standing before them with the sound they so clearly did not like. The men still showed no signs of recognising it as music and they had not lowered their heavy sticks.

Fearing another fight like the one on the Great Forest Road, Rock tried to push Willow behind him. Immediately, she ducked under his arm, coming to stand at his side. He saw that both Hest and Ear Music now held out their hands in peaceful gestures, but Wildcat and Joren stood as if braced to face an attack.

"These are seafolk," Joren said, loudly. "They don't understand. Th' drums they know are only fer the pacing of oars."

Rock noticed Wildcat glance in Joren's direction. She stepped back several paces, then ran to the side. Then she went under the trees that hid the location of the Green. Using her good arm, she picked up something up from the ground. Straightening up, she threw it at the nearest stranger's head.

The man she had aimed at staggered, clapping a hand against his skull, blood shining wet between his fingers. The thrown weapon must have been a sharp stone.

"No, Wildcat!" Ear Music cried out. He moved towards her.

Rock stayed where he was, at Willow's side. Then he saw Joren move to join Wildcat. Hest followed Joren.

As Rock cursed Wildcat under his breath, he saw Ear Music reach out for the marsh girl's wrist. Wildcat kicked the Wanderer forcefully, making him step away from her.

Joren was now on Wildcat's other side. To Rock's dismay, Joren suddenly threw another stone at the strangers. He jumped sideways at the same time, evading Hest's attempt to stop him. Wildcat was already collecting up more stones from the ground.

The seafolk did not retreat far. Instead, they lifted their sticks and began moving toward the trees, clearly intending to defend themselves from Wildcat and Joren.

"I could have told you that would happen, Wildcat," Rock muttered angrily. There was no way she could hear him, but he needed to grumble anyway.

Then Joren and Wildcat let loose a fast volley of stones towards the seafolk. Hest and Ear Music looked as though they would like to prevent them, but were not sure how to do it without getting hurt, themselves.

"Go away!" Wildcat shouted at the men. "Run, go on!"

Meanwhile, the sound of the Green's drumming continued to pound through the earth and the air all around.

Getting closer to the trees all the time, the four men continued to approach, in spite of the flying stones. It was hard to see if more than one of them was injured.

Rock wished he could think how to stop them going inside that thicket and spotting the Green. Not knowing what to do, he remained at Willow's side. He watched Hest, who kept trying to get closer to Joren, but then stepping back each time Joren threw another stone.

Ear Music must have given up caring about getting hurt by Wildcat. The Wanderer began to run in a wide arc until he had made his way around behind her. She did not turn away from the men to look back at him. Ear Music waited there, perhaps hoping to make a grab for her throwing hand again.

Then suddenly, while Rock's attention was on Ear Music, Willow rushed forward. Rock turned instantly as he felt her move away from him. Before he could stop her, she ran towards Joren and Wildcat. Arms outstretched, she came to a stop between them and the men they were attacking.

"Stop it!" Willow shouted over the sound of drumming. "Stop right now. No more blood, I've seen enough of it. And I want to hear the drumming. I was enjoying it. You're spoiling everything!"

Terrified she would get herself hurt, Rock also felt a small glow of admiration. While he had been frozen with indecision, she had chosen to act. Now all he could do was hope her plan would work.

Willow stayed determinedly in place. Joren and Wildcat were forced to stop throwing stones for fear of hitting her. Rock could not see their faces well enough to tell how angry that had made the pair of them. Willow was also within easy range of the strangers' fighting sticks, but they did not attack immediately.

Unfortunately, just at that moment, the Green's drumming built into a furious thundering. Rock saw how the men's' eyes widened with growing terror. Now the noise truly was awful. The howling part had become almost continuous, drowning out the other sounds.

In desperation, Rock tried to reach the Green with his talent, begging them to stop, but their minds were still closed to him. They probably had no knowledge at all of what was going on beyond the trees.

As the men stepped closer to Willow, they raised their sticks. Rock ran forward, moving fast, weaving a route among the four men as the Wanderers had taught him. The idea was never to go in a straight line towards the place you were aiming for. That way, your enemy could not guess what you planned to do next.

Yet the men were scared and confused. They began waving their sticks and hitting out at random. Not seeming to notice who or what was in range, or not, they yelled and struck at the empty air. Two of them were still between Rock and Willow.

Before he could go around them, Willow moved back into the darkness of the trees and he lost sight of her. Suddenly he felt certain she would be killed, her head smashed in or her neck broken. Running past one of the men's swinging arms, he hurried to where she had been standing. But Willow was no longer there.

There was a sudden, brief pause in the horrendous drumming. In that moment, Rock heard the crack of a heavy stick making contact with something solid. His chest squeezed tight, making it hard for him to draw in another breath. The drumming returned to full force as he looked about frantically.

Then, at last, he caught sight of Willow. She stood behind a man whose lowered arm suggested he had just hit a tree with his stick, without causing much damage. Rock's chest loosened and he gave a long sigh of relief.

As he watched, Willow crouched low and ran forward past the man's other arm. She must have paid careful attention during the fight at the rest site. It was just the sort of move a young Wanderer might have chosen.

Being careful to stay out of the way of the men's weapons, himself, Rock edged closer to Willow. At the same time, he noticed Ear Music dancing out of the way of another of the men.

He saw that Wildcat was holding the last stone she had collected, but could not seem to choose where to aim. Not far from her, Hest and Joren both appeared to be trying to copy Willow and Ear Music. They dodged close to two of the men, then away out of range of the fighting sticks, just in time.

This, Rock knew, was how Wanderers in the true circle at one of their skin dances would react, when troublesome strangers tried to interrupt the dance by threatening violence. He joined in, with less skill than Ear Music, but at least he was keeping up with Willow. All the time they were distracting the strangers, the Green remained safely unobserved.

Rock's ears were still taking in the Green's drum rhythm, which was gaining speed. Finally, the individual beats of the drumming seemed to merge into one sound that went on and on.

Eventually, he saw that the men had also noticed the change. One by one, each of the four of them paused, lowered his stick and turned around, looking in all directions. Rock froze as soon as the closest man did this. Holding both arms out to show that he would not attack them, he waited. Willow had already copied him. Ear Music bowed his head towards the man facing him.

In his mind, Rock pleaded with Wildcat not to take advantage of the opportunity to attack the men again. There was no way she could hear him. Yet, for reasons of her own, she waited. Relieved, Rock noticed Joren was following Wildcat's lead.

The men were now obviously exhausted as well as terrified. Rock could see that they were all breathing hard. Now they appeared to be looking at one another, ignoring the young'uns for the moment.

Rock's gaze reached Willow and he thought she was looking straight back at him. He tried to speak to her through his eyes. If anyone chose to attack those men right now, the fight would to start up again. Willow did not move.

He returned his attention to Wildcat. Her stance was that of a hunter. Rock thought she must have worked out that the men's own fear would be enough to send them running. In that respect, they were no different to any large predator animals.

The noise made by the Green had become so loud it was almost painful. After a few heartbeats, one of the men turned and bolted away from the trees. That was enough to encourage his companions to run after him. They fled past Rock without even seeming to notice he was there.

Rock did not care what happened to them after that. Reaching Willow's side at last, he touched her shoulder, holding on just to reassure himself she was safe. The drumming was still thumping in his ears. But then, suddenly, just as he was wondering how much more of it he could stand, it stopped.

The sudden change was so astonishing that for long moments, Rock could hear nothing at all. Yet, it could not really have become silent outdoors, in open country at night, with wild animals all around.

He felt Willow's cool skin against his own as she placed her hand on his. The moon was low in the sky, but still bright.

Joren was the first to speak. "Those men are cowards, for certain."

"Stupid cowards," amended Wildcat.

Now that the threat had passed, Rock was free to express his own anger. "You're the one that's stupid, Wildcat. Why did you start a fight? They could have crushed our heads with those sticks. You could have hit one of them in the eye with your stones. You could have killed one. That wasn't showing any respect at all for the Green."

"They called the Green's music horrible," she said, as if that explained everything. "And I didn't use my knife, did I? I was trying to act more like a Wanderer."

Rock saw her glance at Ear Music, and noted the boy's bewildered frown. If Wildcat thought throwing stones was less violent than knife fighting, she and Ear Music still had a great deal to learn about one another.

Ear Music let out a slow breath, rather loudly. "Just now, when you saw men's own fright would send them away. You and all of us – we let that happen. That was good Wanderer fighting," he pronounced.

"Let's check they went away from the Green," said Hest, speaking mildly to Ear Music. He took the Wanderer by the arm, leading him in the direction the men had gone.

Ear Music looked first at Wildcat, then he went along with Hest. The others remained where they were for some time. No one seemed to know what else to do.

"The drumming was unusual, especially at the end. I'm not sure I'd call that last bit music, exactly," Rock admitted at last.

Wildcat only glared at him. Clearly, she was not prepared to agree.

"Well, I'm with you on that, Rock," said Joren, "and I c'n feel some sympathy for those men. But they were far gone in terror. Best thing was to scare 'em off like we did. I'm thinkin' Wildcat may've aimed to cause real damage, but I were tryin' t' scare 'em, not kill 'em. You say that sound was drumming?"

"How?" asked Willow. "How did they make those sounds?"

At that point Hest returned, creeping out from behind some bushes nearby. He was closely followed by Ear Music.

"Come and see," Hest said, almost whispering. "The Green don't mind if we look, now. Follow us quick, before it's too late. They're already putting everything back."

"You've talked to them?" Wildcat sounded furious.

Rock supressed a smile. It was obvious she had not even thought of _talking_ with the Green until that moment. Rock rather wanted to talk to them himself, now they had finished their drumming. He was eager to find how they had made those sounds. Out of respect for Wildcat's pride, he decided to wait until later on.

Everyone followed Hest and Ear Music through the undergrowth, towards the centre of the hollow where the Green had chosen to settle for the night. It was difficult pushing through the thickly tangled plant growth. Rock choked back a desire to swear aloud. Even Wildcat struggled, though she would probably have managed it easily without her injury.

As soon as they reached a less dense patch of vegetation, Rock noticed Wildcat's expression soften. She was already _listening_ to the Green. Contact with them always seemed to calm her temper better than anything else.

"I think they do it differently in different places," she murmured once, as if she was still trying to sort out what she had learned and make sense of it. "They use what they can find, so they know all kinds of different ways to make drums. All of them learn how to do it." Suddenly changing her tone, she then snapped at Ear Music, "Why didn't you help me try and protect them?"

"I did," he answered, patiently. "Like true circle at skin dance. Not fight to hurt, but Wanderer fighting."

They reached an area clear of vegetation. Rock could just make out the Green, busily working some distance away. He coughed, taking in a rich smell of stirred up bog water.

"Don't go any closer if you don't want to get wet feet," warned Hest.

"What are they doing?" asked Joren. "I can't see."

"Fallen branches," Willow answered him. "Still solid on the outside but hollow in the middle. Eaten away by insects and fungi. But some of them are really long, how could they reach?... oh!"

At that moment, one of the Green dropped down into the bog from what looked like quite a height, hitting wet mud with a gentle splash.

Slowly, Rock began to make sense of what he was seeing. Tall, upright shapes poked up from the far side of the bog. Those must be the hollow branches, deliberately placed there by the Green. One by one, the Green were now toppling them into the mud. If they had been working at this task since their drumming ended, there might originally have been enough upended hollow logs to make one drum for each adult to play.

"They made their drums in one night," Rock said aloud. "How? What do they use for skins?"

He had learned a great deal about drums from the Wanderers, while hiding in their summer camps to get away from his parents. But he had never known of a way to make drums without using animal skin.

"They tell me they weave little... sort-of flat baskets from leaves," explained Wildcat. "A bit like the weaving they did to seal my wound up, but these are much thicker leaves. They bounce when the Green hit the drum."

That explained how they created skins, yet Rock did not think it could account for the nature of the sounds.

"Yes, and there's more," said Hest just then. "Deep under the bog, there's solid stone, where the water gets trapped. And I should think there's hardly ever enough rain to fill it, so there are air spaces. Some of the rotten tree trunks weren't actually standing in the bog. The Green pushed them down tunnels. They made a cave into a big drum."

Continuing to watch the Green with even more admiration than before, Rock began to fully appreciate what a marvel he just had been allowed to witness.

"They came here for the first time yesterday," he said, wonderingly. "They haven't ever seen those trees or that bog or these rocks before."

"Just think what might have happened if they'd tried to get back to the Forest from the city without help from the Rats and the Wanderers," suggested Willow. Her voice carried an edge of nervousness. "If they'd drummed anywhere near a village. What would they have used to make their drums then? What would the villagers have done? No wonder the Wanderers thought of keeping them hidden in a wagon."

Rock knew she was right. "What if those men come back?" he added. "Or if there are more like them around here? What if they meet up with other travellers and tell them what they heard?"

Joren had been watching the Green with as much interest as any of the others. He already seemed to have accepted a share of the responsibility for getting them back to the Forest. "They're heading for the Great Road, I expect," he commented. "They'll climb the cliff and wait for a harvest run to come by. Lookin' to earn coin, they'll be. But I see no reason we'll cross th' route of any more like 'em. This country's big n' empty, mostly."

"Those men will have troubles," added Ear Music. "Road flooded."

Nevertheless, Rock worried about what might happen when the men did meet up with Harvesters and told them what they had seen and heard below Big Drop. He was glad when his companions agreed to move on during what remained of the night. By the time the moon had completely set, dawn was already beginning.

The Green seemed happy to keep moving too, once they had returned all the slightly changed rotten branches to the bottom of the bog.

By the time the sun rose, the travellers were in open country with low-growing, widely spaced trees. Underfoot, the ground was dry and stony. As they went on, rockgripper trees and shrubby plants became scarce. Instead, thin tufty grasses and small-leaved plants hugged the ground, making little hummocks.

"The Green did their best for the land they drummed on," Wildcat spoke up, once.

She was a short way behind Rock and Willow. The Green were already some distance ahead of the others.

"Did you notice that?" Wildcat continued. "The way they stirred up the mud and messed with those bits of wood they used for drums, then put everything back again – it mixed air into the bog so all kinds of tiny plants and creatures started growing and feeding."

"I might have noticed more if you and Joren hadn't put us all in danger," Rock could not stop himself from commenting. He remembered the moment when he had feared that traveller had smashed Willow's skull with his club.

"I was taught how drumming's supposed to keep the world in balance," said Willow, bringing his thoughts back to the present. He could tell she was attempting to make peace between him and Wildcat, and with Joren.

"Yes, Wanderers say too," agreed Ear Music.

Usually Rock admired the Wanderers' non-violent response to aggression, but now it just felt as if Ear Music and Willow were refusing to allow him his justified anger.

"It was certainly some sort of thankyou to the land and the water. That's what I thought," said Hest, only making things worse.

"It didn't do a lot to balance angry people's dangerous actions, though, did it?" Rock grumbled.

"Those men din't feel it, but I did," Joren said, then.

Rock felt too angry to ask what he meant, but Willow persisted. "How?" she queried.

"D' you city types hear nothing out of th' further places?" Joren asked. "Talent's there, even when it's not chosen. Surely you know that. I say those men chose not to hear, same as I chose t' listen. "

Straight away, Wildcat snapped back, "But you've got no talent."

Joren stopped walking, to turn and smile at her. "I said I _chose_ not to have one."

Still not moving, so that everyone else had to stop too if they wanted to hear more of what he had to say, Joren frowned. "Hest knows," he said. "Told me about a travelling Harvester in your village, Willow. Surely you didn't think he was the only one?"

Rock well remembered the Harvester who had called himself Wolf, and how much trouble he had caused in Willow's home village. Of course Rock and Willow both knew there were others like him.

"They work at twisting people's ideas," said Joren, sounding bitter. "They're in hill villages, low villages, fishing villages, everywhere they can get to. Can be hard to have talent in those places. Easier not to, when stupid, lazy folk believe anything the Harvesters tell' em. Those folk never think about why Harvesters say what they do. I learned a habit of not having a talent, that's all. And now I'm happy to stay as I am."

"I wish there was a good way to warn villagers about those travelling Harvesters. Even the stupid lazy villagers," said Willow, sadly.

Rock knew that she and Hest had tried to do just that, back in their home village. It had not turned out well.

"No use," replied Joren, shortly. He began walking once more, so everyone else followed.

Rock found his earlier irritation returning. If he could have chosen to reject his own talent, he might have done so. But he had never even considered the possibility. At the time, he had no idea what was happening to him or how to control it. Old Jesty, and Willow's grandmother, Yenna, had taught him control of his talent, eventually. Yet, neither of those two elders had ever suggested he might choose not to be talented at all.

Willow had told him about her suspicion that anyone might be talented if they could be properly encouraged and taught. He was unsure how much he agreed with her. He knew that Willow's village friend Emmie had not had talent. Neither had a good number of other villagers. On the other hand, every single person living in the marsh villages had seemed to have some degree of talent. Only those who used it more than most stood out as different. It was a puzzle that he had not cared to think too much about.

Rock concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. It was no use looking back. He was talented now. That was what mattered. And he was going to the Forest with the Green and with Willow. This path had first begun when he came into his talent, and he would not alter its direction.

TEN – WILLOW

Willow knew Rock had been furious with Wildcat and Joren, who had both made a bad situation worse by throwing those stones. And Willow had been angry, too. That was why she had gone to stand right in the midst of the danger, attempting to put a stop to it.

For the next few days, every time anyone mentioned the fight, Rock became stubbornly silent. Yet she thought his rage was gradually seeping away. He could hold onto anger for a long time, but not forever. Not towards people who were truly his friends.

Every night, she and Rock slept curled up together, fully clothed for the warmth. Each of the three couples had taken to choosing separate sleeping places some distance apart. Walking all through each and every day, they were always close to exhaustion by sunset. Willow doubted that any of them shared love as much as they probably wanted to.

Her earlier worries about the Green sensing her thoughts during love-play had turned out to be unimportant, much to her relief. She had soon learned how to send them only those focussed thoughts that she wished them to know about. It was a bit like consciously altering her expression under someone else's gaze. The Green were far more intent listeners than plants or animals, so they did not bother to reach for thoughts that were not directed at them.

As the journey continued, Wildcat began using Ear Music's true name, Neamis. It was not long before Willow and everyone else took to doing the same.

Neamis became the main gatherer of food for the group. He was experienced at collecting small edible things, even in the most empty looking terrain. The others helped when they could. Willow kept herself constantly alert for nearby plants with ripe berries or nuts to share. Rock and Wildcat could easily have searched out small animals or birds to kill and eat, but they did not. Killing, gutting and cooking meat would take more time and energy than anyone wanted to spare.

When there was no food, they chewed wayfarer's bark. The water supplies they carried were rationed carefully, in spite of Hest's useful talent. The land was dry, with few streams. Hest said the nearest river was an enormous distance away.

He and Joren often talked of the sea. They described all sorts of creatures Willow had never even heard of before. Not only fish, but other swimming things, shelled animals, plants, and things that were part animal, part plant. They said some of these were so small that only people with talents could even tell they existed, but other sea creatures were enormous.

Neamis said his own name was the Wanderer word for the shell of a creature that could grow bigger than a man's head. Willow had always known the sea was far larger than the Forest. Now she began to understand that it was also just as full of life.

Eventually, as the journey continued, Joren claimed the air had begun to smell salty. Flocks of white and grey birds often rose in the distant sky. Joren said they flew over the sea, diving into it to catch and eat fish.

"Lick your lips," he said. "Surely you can taste the salt."

To her surprise, Willow discovered it was true. The air had left salt on her skin. She could taste it when she tried.

"So why can't I see the actual water in the distance?" she wanted to know.

Joren and Neamis both tried to explain. Using sticks, they scratched maps in dry patches of earth, to show the position of some low hills they said were made mostly of sand. Neamis thought the sea had carried the sand up onto the land a long time ago and left it there, never returning to pull it back into the water.

"To view sea, we would have to be on other side of sandy hills," he said.

"S' right. Then we'd have a good long view of it, but we'd take half a day to get there," Joren agreed.

"And that's too far out of our way," Wildcat put in, firmly. She had watched carefully as the two of them had drawn out their maps. Even so, it was clear she was set on reaching the Forest as soon as they possibly could.

Regretfully, Willow found herself agreeing with Wildcat. However, just after dawn one morning, Joren decided to make an expedition on his own.

"I smell wood smoke on th' wind now. It's coming up that valley. There's a village near, up against some inlet where seawater reaches through," he explained. "I've still th' look of a sailing man. If I go alone, they won't know about th' rest of ye being fr'm far away. Just one taste of cooked fish, I'm after. Only once. I'll bring back enough to share. We've had nothing but raw food for so long."

"We're not waiting here for you," said Wildcat. "You'll have to catch us up."

"Can you do that?" Rock asked, sounding doubtful.

It was not difficult for anyone talented to judge the general direction of the Forest, but Joren was not talented. Glancing at Hest, Willow was surprised to see that he did not seem all that concerned.

"Will you go with Joren?" she asked him.

"No, I'll stick with you and the Green," Hest replied.

"Just keep on th' way yer going," instructed Joren. "I c'n catch up. I'll be in calling distance before dusk."

So the others continued on without him. It would certainly not be a good idea for the Green to go close to any village.

Shortly before noon, Willow realised she could hear someone calling, although the sound was distorted by the wind. Hest called back using a far-reaching shout.

"Nettle taught me that," he said afterwards, sounding very pleased with himself.

Nettle was Hest's father, a stone listener well used to travelling through wild country on his own.

The shout seemed to have startled the Green. Willow searched for them. They were no longer visible, although she could feel their closeness through her talent.

She looked forward to a meal of fish when Joren returned. It would be a welcome change from nuts and berries.

Unfortunately, when the person who had shouted came into view, it was not Joren. It was an elderly woman, coming uphill towards them.

At first, the top of her head was easier to see than the rest of her. As she drew closer, Willow saw long tangled ropes of greying hair swinging around the woman's shoulders. Once she was finally level with the travellers, Willow noticed how the hem of her heavy skirt was tucked into her waistband, exposing weather-tanned legs. She wore thin leather shoes.

"Not green at all," the woman said as she stepped forward. "None of you's green are ye? The boy were lying." She sounded furious.

"Boggits!" exclaimed Wildcat.

Willow looked at Hest, who seemed just as surprised as everyone else.

"Are you saying Joren sent you here?" Hest asked. "Is he all right? Where is he?"

"Joren? Small, pale man-boy? He that said there was Green up here if I cared to look. Him, he's back down at the harbour, far's I know. Telling tales."

Willow felt herself go cold with fear, then hot with anger straight afterwards. Briefly checking on the Green using her talent, she was reassured they were safe for the present. They were hiding underneath the edge of a large boulder surrounded with tall spiny plants. Obviously, they had known all along that it had not been Joren who had called out from a distance.

"Well, he was lying, as you can see," Rock answered the woman. His tone of voice was calm, but Willow could tell he was really concerned. "You'd better hurry back and tell the rest of the village before he fools everyone."

The woman seemed to consider this. "Trying to get food for all you four as well, was he?" she asked. "Eh, well. He said we'd see twenty Green up here. Said they'd try and hide. You four weren't hiding, though. Might be I'll not see 'em before the others come. They sent me on ahead. My old legs're still pretty fast. I c'n go back now, t' tell 'em there's definitely somebodies up here, anyway."

"Bog maggots and swamp ferrets!" responded Wildcat. "No! No others. Don't bring anyone else up here. That mouldy slime-pisser was lying to you."

Watching Hest's face, Willow could see he was desperately worried. But she was not inclined to feel sympathy for his lover at that moment. It seemed that Joren had betrayed the Green at the first opportunity. This situation could turn out worse than the night of the Green's drumming.

She expected Rock to curse like Wildcat, but he said nothing.

The strange woman shrugged her shoulders. Then she turned and began to walk back the way she had come.

"Do we follow her?" Willow asked the others.

"Yes," Hest replied straight away.

"No," said Wildcat. "We shouldn't leave the Green and we need to travel on. There's not time to head off into unknown fishing villages if we're going to get to the Forest before winter. And there's no need to rescue that traitor."

Rock laid a hand on Willow's wrist, like a kind of apology.

"Wait," he said, speaking directly to Hest. "If the woman comes back with more villagers, it's no use trying to outrun them. The Green should stay where they are. If they move now, they're even more likely to be seen. And also, if the villagers let Joren go, he'll come straight up here. You don't know the way to the village. You could miss him."

Looking at Willow, Hest said, "Please don't judge him before we find out what's going on. Telling that woman about the Green might be the only way he could get someone to warn us he's in trouble."

"Betraying them to save himself?" growled Wildcat, showing no sympathy at all.

Neamis stroked Wildcat's arm, just as Willow had often seen Rock soothe a troubled horse.

"Green trust Joren," said Neamis.

Willow expected Wildcat to confirm or deny this. Instead, Wildcat turned away, staring into the distance. At least she did not insist on continuing their journey immediately.

Standing beside Rock, Willow stared in the direction the village woman had gone. For a long time there was nothing to see but stones and low-growing plants. Rock was motionless and silent, as if he was thinking and planning. Wildcat, on the other hand, paced restlessly, occasionally cursing aloud. Neamis soon gave up trying to get her to stay still.

Eventually, Willow began to make out the sound of several distant voices. More people must be on their way uphill towards them. The slope of the land prevented her from seeing them straight away.

"No point us hiding," said Rock. "There's been time for that woman to tell them we're here."

When the people came within sight, Willow tried to count them, but there were too many. Perhaps forty or fifty, all adults. She could not see Joren among them anywhere.

Wildcat now held her belt knife ready in her free hand, even though she had no chance of fighting off a large number of healthy fishing villagers. Expecting yet another violent confrontation, Willow only wished she could vanish. Or fly away like a bird, taking all of the Green with her.

At the front of the group of villagers was the woman who had come alone, earlier on. She came to a stop in front of Hest. "These aren't they!" she called out, turning to address her companions. "Search along the back of them sharp bushes there and through the sandy grass."

Some of the men and women left the main group straight away, obviously intending to search the surrounding area for the Green.

Willow breathed faster. Her hands clenched into fists. She could now see that several villagers were carrying nets. These nets were far bigger than any she had seen Henty the Riverman using in Warner's river when she was growing up. They were tightly bundled, but she had no doubt about what they were.

"Why have you brought fishing nets with you?" she asked as one of them passed close by her.

"We fish," the woman replied. "We fish on the sea, we fish on the land. We fish where there's something to catch. Don't worry, we won't catch you today. We can't sell you. You can go free."

"Sell? Who would you sell us to?"

The woman had moved on, so did not answer.

Wildcat had not sheathed her knife, but she was using her talent. The marsh girl stood straight, apparently still watching the villagers. Only those who were used to it would be able to spot the change in her features that happened as she talked to the Green. Neamis remained by her side, as if on guard.

The woman who had just spoken to Willow approached a gap between two small trees. Beyond the trees was the way to the Green's hiding place. Hest quickly stepped into the woman's path.

"So you sell what you trap," he said, not raising his voice. Knowing her friend well, Willow could hear that he was keeping down a great deal of anxiety. "My friend Joren was in your village asking for food. That woman who arrived before you, she saw him. Where is my friend Joren now?"

"Ah, that man-boy. Yes, he wanted to buy food, but he had no coin, only sea tokens. If he wants to share fish with you, he'll bring it to you, won't he? When he can walk again."

"What?" Hest finally lost his self-control and shouted. "What did they do to him?"

But the woman who had given Hest this news now ignored him, wandering away to join the other villagers busily spreading their nets out and checking them over. At least she was no closer to the Green.

"That boy lies all the time." Wildcat called after the woman.

Wildcat's face had regained its usual sharply alert expression. "There's no such thing as Green people, they're just a story. You're wasting your time with those nets. Take them back to the sea. You should be catching fish. Those other villagers aren't going to find any Green for you to trap." She pitched her voice to attract the attention of all the villagers within hearing distance.

Hest now lunged at Wildcat, grabbing her good arm. "They've hurt him. They've beat him up to get the truth out of him."

"Shh," Wildcat replied, shaking him off. "They can't know if he told the truth or not."

Willow was only just close enough to hear her. Moving closer to Hest and Wildcat, she continued watching the fishing villagers carefully all the while.

Many of the villagers had spread out into a rough line and were pacing uphill, slowly. Wildcat glared at them all, but took no action, perhaps because they were all going the wrong way.

Furious at Joren, yet also terrified at the thought of what these villagers might have done to him, Willow caught snatches of various conversations, carried on the wind.

"Told yer, Risnup did, last spring. Risnup said there'd be dangerous beasts escaping out that Forest with those Harvesters churning it up there."

"We should've listened maybe. We should've prepared."

"Lies it is. Nothing to worry on. Where's these Green? I don't see 'em."

"They're a danger. You heard what Dop told us."

"Dop never mentioned that Forest. The man-boy said that."

These strangers reminded Willow of some hillish villagers she had known. There were people in Warner who might beat up a traveller they thought was lying. Especially if no one sensible was around to stop them.

The Green were in her thoughts, although she was not making a deliberate effort to reach out to them. All of a sudden, they made a very clear suggestion that was both frightening and exciting.

Willow understood there was something the Green wished to do. They were asking her to persuade her companions to go along with it. That meant some of the other non-green did not like the idea at present. Probably Wildcat was the most resistant. Willow listened very carefully to the Green. Her own excitement grew, making her want to open out her shoulders and breathe in very deeply.

_Yes_ , she agreed with the Green. _No more secrets_. For once, it would be good to stop hiding and show the truth. Out in the open.

Turning first to Hest, she saw immediately that he had also heard and understood.

"Hest," Willow spoke aloud, intending Rock, Neamis and Wildcat to overhear. "Hest, you understand, don't you. We've got to tell these villagers the truth. Those people are terrified of some threat they've only imagined. They think the Green will hurt them. The villagers want to fight back, like those men Joren said were going to join a harvest run. But I don't want another fight, and neither do the Green. I think we should let these people see the Green. Let's give these villagers a chance to help us. Let's show we're not their enemies. I think that's what the Green would like."

"Yes," Hest agreed, just as Willow had hoped he would. "I hear them, too."

"No!" Rock burst out. "You've got it wrong. You must have."

"How else do we stop this without more violence then?" Willow asked, knowing Rock favoured the Wanderers' peaceful ways, even if he had grown up a Harvester.

"We can't just give the Green away," Wildcat answered instead of Rock. "The Green don't understand the danger."

Wildcat began _talking_ to the Green again, her expression fierce. After a few moments she turned to stare at Willow. "Huh," she said, sounding suddenly disappointed. Then, with obvious reluctance, she sheathed her knife.

Neamis made no comment, although he smiled at Willow. She guessed he had been happy with the Green's idea from the moment they had first expressed it.

However stubborn Wildcat could be, and however much she distrusted other people, she was honest. If the Green had been able to convince her of their wishes, Wildcat would never lie about that, however much she must have wanted to.

Wildcat began shaking her head. "Soft nannies, they are." She sounded extremely irritated. "They want to make friends. I told them how these people think Green are dangerous. Now the Green want to show them they're not."

"It's not our choice," Rock said very softly. "All right, so the Green have got very tired of being our secret. I don't agree with them, but I won't try to stop them."

Willow followed the direction of his gaze. She saw movement in the spiny plants in front of the big boulder. The plant leaves clattered against one another. Then a green hand emerged from cover, followed by a face.

Slowly, one at a time, the Green crept out of their hiding place. They began to step through the gap between the small trees.

The fishing villagers took several heartbeats to notice them. When they did, many of them stared open-mouthed. Not all of them could see what was going on, so there was quite a bit of whispering. Then shoving and some arguing.

Unfortunately, some of the villagers soon recovered from the surprise. Willow spotted the exchange of several sly looks between them. As those people began moving around, Willow thought they were shifting into a practised hunting formation. In despair, she closed her eyes.

Then Wildcat's voice rang out, loud and calm. "They won't hurt you."

All Wildcat's anger and agitation seemed to have disappeared in an instant. Willow opened her eyes and stared at her friend.

"They don't want to stay anywhere near your village. They're travelling back to the Forest," continued Wildcat. "All they want is to go home. Let them pass by."

"They'll fetch a good price," said one of the village men doubtfully.

"No," Rock spoke quietly. "Green are people. People are not for sale, ever."

Willow closed her lips tightly. She wanted to ask who would buy the Green. Yet it would be better to say nothing at all, for the moment. Many of the villagers already looked as though their thoughts were moving from hostility to wonderment. It would not be a good idea to distract them.

"Naked," commented one woman. "Do they swim then?"

Studying the faces of the villagers, Willow was relieved to see that the Green might have made the right choice, after all. Many of the fisherfolk had already changed their stance, no longer looking at all like hunters.

"If you don't hurt them," Wildcat continued, "the Green will come closer. You can take a long look. Remember. Tell your children and grandchildren. Fold up those nets and keep them out of the way. You're making them very scared."

Glancing towards Neamis, Willow thought he looked pleased. Perhaps because Wildcat had so easily accepted the Green's intention to win over these people with honesty instead of violence.

Some of the villagers then began arguing loudly, though Willow could no longer pick up what any of them were saying. The wind had dropped. After the argument had gone on for a while, one elder seemed to take charge. She had got herself a place at the very front of the group, closest to the Green. Now, she used a walking stick to poke at anyone she could reach until they stayed quiet. When those people stopped talking, the calm spread outwards from them until the old woman could be heard by all.

"Sem and Tirrit, you take those nets back down home right now," she sharply instructed, pointing towards two men at the outer edge of the group. "Do it fast n' maybe you c'n get back up here in time t' see more of those Green people. Hurry up!"

The men began collecting nets from the others. The pair grumbled under their breath, but the elder woman stared at them until they had each bundled several nets under each arm. Willow heard many quiet whispers and more grumbles, but none of the villagers seemed willing to cross the elder woman.

During the whole conversation, Willow had been aware of Hest nervously glancing from one villager's face to another.

"Please," Hest addressed the elder woman, now, "what about Joren? Why hasn't he come with you? Is he badly hurt? I need to see him. Now you know he wasn't lying."

Willow was certain Neamis had been right about the Green still trusting Joren, although she was not sure why. They might not understand how Joren had betrayed them, although Wildcat must have tried to make it clear to them.

The woman narrowed her eyes at Hest. "Stow those nets safe, then go to Shrimp," she instructed the pair of sullen fishermen. "Tell Shrimp I want him to bring that boy up here, quick as quick!"

The men set off, and Hest remained where he was, pacing the grass. Willow could not remember ever having seen him look so upset.

While Hest continued to stare off down the hill, Wildcat took charge of introducing the Green to the villagers. Since there was no comfort she could offer Hest at that moment, Willow decided to help Wildcat. Together, they organised a number of small groups of interested villagers. Each group was joined by couples or trios of Green, who reached out curious hands in greeting. If some of the villagers still hoped to catch and sell Green, they did not show it. All of them now seemed entranced.

Willow soon found herself answering questions about the Green from some of the fisherpeople. Now that the Green were out in the open, there seemed little point in keeping anything back. Willow replied honestly to enquiries about where they were going and why. At the same time, she was aware that Neamis, Rock and Wildcat were also talking more openly with the fishing villagers.

She even heard Wildcat suggest to several people that talented villagers could _talk_ to the Green directly. However, it was soon clear that these villagers usually avoided speaking about the talents, rather like people in the Spice City. Willow thought they pretended not to notice Wildcat's suggestions. Certainly, no one gave any reply that Willow could hear.

Eventually, Willow saw an old woman sitting on the ground, slightly apart from the nearest other villagers, wearing a distant expression. The woman looked very much as though she might be using a talent. Curious, Willow went over to her.

Turning her head, the old woman looked at Willow. "Green," she said. "Ah, very, very strange. Say you would never tell a Harvester about a small fisherwoman's talent."

"Never," Willow agreed. In that moment, she understood how these villagers might be just as scared of revealing secrets to strangers as Rock and Wildcat had been.

"Safe. Safe with Green. Safe with you, ah," the woman sighed. She sounded like it had been a long time since she had felt safe in the presence of a stranger. "Harvesters came," she went on. "One summer ago, and three summers ago. They hurt any villagers having talents. You are brave going to that Forest with those Green. Make sure Harvesters don't see you, eh?"

"Would these people from your village tell Harvesters about us, if Harvesters came here again?" Willow asked.

The woman looked thoughtful. The creases of her wrinkled, weathered forehead deepened.

"If the Harvesters offered to pay for information?" Willow persisted.

There was quite a long silence, during which the woman seemed to be watching the Green as they interacted with her fellow villagers.

Finally, she turned back to Willow. Her small, dark eyes were very bright. "Some, yes," she answered. "We hear tales of villages where folk earn coin, lots of coin, selling rare fish – things like that – to some people to take to Harvesters in the Spice City. Do you know of these people?"

Willow shook her head.

"Ah, well. Perhaps the tales are not even true." The woman sighed. "We elders must make a rule that no one tells Harvesters of these Green. I will see to it. With Mistwind, that woman elder who ordered Sem and Tirret to take away the nets. We are eldest, she and I. Mistwind and Kelp. No one is allowed to argue with us... much." She laughed. "You and these Green should stay safe, I think. Our villagers are afraid because of tales they hear, but these Green are not a tale."

"Thank you." Willow smiled. It was as much support from the fishing villagers as she could hope for, and it was more than she had really expected. She wanted to ask about Joren, but was not sure how to put her question without seeming to insult Kelp's village.

"The harvest of the Forest hurts the sea," the woman said, abruptly. "Do you know fish?"

"Not really." Again, Willow shook her head. "Well, I don't know sea fish at all."

"Some of them tell me of the changes in their waters since the harvest began. The change is violent, and too big. The waters close to shore are full of dirt. That dirt comes to us in currents that bring water that once flowed in Forest. There are small rivers in Forest that run to the sea, far away from here. Harvest dirt in those rivers, now. Sea brings that dirt to us. Plants and animals choke from that dirt. They die. Then fishes' food is gone. When Harvesters came to our villages, plenty of us explained this to them. But they closed their ears and closed their minds to us. Later, other strangers came, stealing, fighting, passing through on their way to the Forest, looking for the harvest. You're not like them, but we remember."

It was an apology, Willow realised. "No, we're not like them," she replied.

Getting to her feet, she then glanced in the direction the villagers had first come from. In that same moment, Hest suddenly began running that way. Stepping away from the talented village woman, Willow immediately hurried to follow him.

ELEVEN – WILDCAT

Two large men were bringing Joren. They had linked arms to make a seat. The boy rode between them, one arm around each of their shoulders. A much older man followed along behind them.

Joren's bare feet stuck out in front of him. On seeing the state of those feet, Wildcat immediately stepped forward.

Rinnet's marsh-born apprentices had been just as thoroughly trained as Willow. And that meant, however much Wildcat hated Joren for his betrayal, she must now help him. A healer must never judge. That was one of Rinnet's sayings.

Wildcat went to stand beside Willow. They exchanged concerned glances. Then Willow began reaching into the pouches on her carrying belt. Wildcat knew her friend was using touch, smell and talent to choose from the dried herbs inside. Joren was lowered slowly onto the ground by the fishermen.

"What happened?" Hest asked him several times.

"Why did you tell them about the Green?" Wildcat could not stop herself from adding.

Only a short time ago, Joren had stood beside her, throwing stones at their enemies. Now he had betrayed the Green. The thought left Wildcat feeling hurt and angry, yet also suspicious. Something did not quite make sense.

Wildcat had already come to know good people who had done bad things. Syme Deadlander for one. And Naesy Rootgrinder. In different ways, those two had both acted badly out of ignorance. Syme had once been a harvest worker. Naesy had been loyal to Red Dawnweaver. Yet both were now Rats and had been Wildcat's friends.

She made a conscious effort to hold back the force of her anger at Joren, determined to find out the full truth of what had happened to him. Those fishing villagers had been going to hunt the Green with nets. They should not be trusted completely, whatever the Green might have decided.

A fisherwoman elder came forward, carrying a water sack. She was the one Willow said had a talent.

"Seawater," the old woman said, handing it over. "Best for cleaning wounds." Reaching into a pocket of her jacket, the woman then pulled out a roll of clean cloth. "Fishing's dangerous," she explained. "Always carry enough to clean and bind a wound."

"You do," Willow muttered in reply, "but no one back in the village has washed his feet. Bull's balls! What happened to him?"

Wildcat helped as Willow began work on Joren's feet, not waiting for an answer. Wildcat could only use one hand, but she was thorough. Her anger made it impossible to be gentle.

After adding Willow's herbs to the sea water, they used Wildcat's knife to cut strips of cloth, then soaked them thoroughly. With the cloths, they then set about teasing every speck of dirt out of the many ragged cuts and grazes on the soles of Joren's feet. The deepest cuts were the hardest. When their outer edges were clean, there was often dirt hidden further in. If not removed, this might cause suppuration, long after the surface skin had healed.

Joren made no attempt to apologise, or to explain what had happened. He said nothing at all, visibly clenching his teeth against the pain.

The Green did not sing.

Now that Wildcat _talked_ with them regularly, her understanding of them was increasing all the time. She thought that they knew perfectly well how much she disliked their plan to reveal themselves to the villagers.

Pausing in her work on Joren's feet to _talk_ with them again, she was surprised by what she interpreted. They appeared to notice Joren's physical pain, understanding it as some kind of communication from him. It was as though the Green saw it as his way of expressing repentance. And they definitely still wanted Joren to travel with them all the way to the Forest.

"I wasn't trying to get the Green caught!" Joren shouted out, finally ending his silence. Wildcat let go of her contact with the Green. At that moment, she was squeezing drops of seawater directly into a gaping slit in the skin of his foot. "Are you trying to kill me with pain Wildcat?" he added. "That hurts!"

"You told the villagers about them," she could not help accusing him.

"T' stop th' salted... ah!" He screwed his face up as she squeezed her rag of salt water into yet another gash.

Then Willow gave her a very sharp look, clearly instructing her to be more gentle. Wildcat sat back. She needed a rest, anyway.

Meanwhile, Hest turned to shout at the villagers, "Who attacked him? Why did they do this?"

None of them answered him, at first. After some time, the old man who had arrived with Joren came forward. He walked with a limp. A thickened scar distorted one side of his face.

"I am elder Shrimp," he introduced himself. "I am to explain and to say our regrets. There was a... misunderstanding. We thought your friend was a stray."

He was interrupted by the woman who had brought salt water. "Those stupid rough crab catchers, Sem and Tirret. They beat him hard, Shrimp. There was no need. They just enjoy to be cruel, those two. They shame us, they do."

The man continued to look at Hest. "Old fisherpeople's punishment for lying," he said, not sounding particularly regretful. "They beat him to the ground with the blunt end of a gaff pole. Took his boots. Whipped his feet with a frayed rope. Then they chased him across slate pebbles in the undercliff. New slate falls from that cliff all the time. Many stones there are very sharp."

Wildcat let a slow breath hiss out through her teeth. These people were brutal, even compared to city Harvesters.

"Why?" Hest's voice sounded unusually loud.

Suddenly, Joren was trying to laugh. "It was... was... my... good looks," he managed to get out in between gasps of pain. "Made 'em think I must be rich with coin. They searched. I had none. They found the sea tokens I were goin' t' use t' pay for our supper, though. Took those. No fish for us now."

"And the lie they thought you told was..?" Wildcat began to ask.

"That I didn't want to join the harvest. These salted idiots've never met anyone heading fer th' Forest fer any other reason. Told truth, I did. But they wouldn't believe me. I only said about th' Green later. I were trying t' make 'em go and look. So they'd stop hurting me. I weren't thinking at all straight by then. It arsing hurt, salt it!"

Wildcat believed him. And she felt the smallest beginnings of sympathy for him, for so stubbornly attempting to tell the truth. But he had been weak, offering up the Green just so the beating would stop.

It seemed he had acted out of fear, rather than greed. If so, then he had not exactly meant to put the Green in danger. He had just wanted to save himself. Wildcat thought she might be able to forgive him for that. And for failing to act as bravely as she would have done in similar circumstances.

Willow now turned to speak to the village woman. "Elder Kelp," she said, "a stranger arrived in your village asking to buy some food. And the first thing that happened was that he was searched for coin. Then, when he told the truth, he was accused of lying. And then he was beaten! His feet were left shredded. His boots were stolen, too!"

Willow's voice was sharp, and Wildcat could tell just how anxious her friend had become. It had largely been Willow who had talked everyone else out of interfering when the Green had decided to show themselves. If these villagers now turned on them, there would be little that Willow, or anyone else, could do to stop them.

The old woman said nothing. Instead, she glared toward the old man who had introduced himself as elder Shrimp.

"A misunderstanding," insisted the elder man. "A mistake."

Rock whispered in Willow's ear, loudly enough for Wildcat to overhear. "We should get away from here," he said. "Before they change their minds about hunting the Green."

Privately, Wildcat agreed with him. And she knew it would be pointless to suggest Joren remained behind. The fishing villagers were unlikely to treat him kindly. Not only that, she already knew the Green wanted Joren along, for some reason.

"Joren," Wildcat forced herself to speak to him politely. "You know we have to keep travelling. You know why. If you want to come with us, you're going to have to walk."

"Don't y' think I've already worked that out?" he answered, his voice still tight from pain. "I will do it, Wildcat. Even if I have to get t' the Forest alone. You all think I don't hear it. Well maybe I don't hear the same you all do. But I know the way, all right? Forest calls t' me, talent or none. That's what I tried to explain t' those s...salted...f...ishermen."

Shocked, Wildcat found herself looking to Neamis, in case he understood something she did not. The Wanderer had been silent from the moment Joren first arrived. But in response to her look, he only shrugged his shoulders.

"I wondered how you knew you'd be able to catch us up again with no trouble," said Rock, addressing Joren. "So that's why Hest was happy for you to go off alone to the village."

All the time Wildcat and Willow had been cleaning Joren's feet, Hest had been standing close by. She had felt his gaze on her the whole time. Glancing up at him now, she saw that he was looking towards Rock. Hest's silence indicated that Rock had been correct.

Wildcat glanced around, wondering if they should be speaking of such things in the presence of strangers. Just because the Green wanted to stop being secretive did not make it safe to do so. Honesty had not been enough to protect Joren.

However, most of the villagers appeared to be talking amongst themselves. They were probably discussing details that would end up being told and retold for many seasons to come. As they talked, they all continued staring at the Green. One very bold villager had reached out to touch a green man's belly with outstretched fingertips.

He called out something that sounded to Wildcat like, "Scarolyve!" This made his fellow villagers laugh, and some called out in response. The young Green man seemed perfectly comfortable with this, so Wildcat returned her attention to Joren.

"Which talent is it that you don't have?" she asked him. "You never said."

"I weren't keeping secrets from ye t' fool ye. I just din't see why ye needed t' know," he answered. "I don't do it, so it don't matter." He spoke between sharp breaths. As he did so, he looked from Wildcat to Hest, then Neamis, Willow and Rock, one after the other. "Ye'd call it animal talking, I expect. I could've been what fishing folk call a talker of sea people. It's like an animal talker for the creatures that live in th' sea water. I chose not. It hurt too much."

Wildcat let out a contemptuous huff, not caring if she hurt Joren's feelings.

"Try going in a city warehouse full of dead harvest," she said. "I did. And it hurt so much I wanted to give up my talent. Only I chose not to. I decided it was too important."

Joren made no attempt to argue. She could tell from the look in his eyes, he had no fight left in him.

"Oh, Wildcat," came a whisper from Neamis. She had forgotten he might not know that about that part of her time in the Spice City.

Before Wildcat could speak again, she felt the touch of Willow's hand against her own wrist. It was a gentle warning from one healer to another. Joren was shocked and injured. It was unfair to expect much sensible thought from him. Reluctantly accepting Willow's point, Wildcat decided to save all of her many other questions for later.

"It was up to you to decide for yourself," Willow spoke soothingly to Joren. "I made a big mistake once. Afterwards I stopped tree speaking. I remember how that felt. The choice has to be your own or it wouldn't be right."

Wildcat still wanted to argue, but then Rock made a puzzled sound. She saw him giving Willow an odd look.

"When my talent came in," he said slowly, "I didn't even know what it was. I'd have done anything to get rid of it. I didn't know how. I never really believed you stopped being a tree speaker, even when you thought you had. I didn't think there was really a choice for any of us."

"But, anyway, it's the wrong choice!" Wildcat burst out, unable to stay quiet any longer. "You're all so careful of Joren's feelings. But if he's rejected his own talent, he could be as bad as Stern Greylight. How would we know?"

Her fears had suddenly overcome all of her training as a healer. Though she could forgive Joren, that was not the same as trusting him. She could not understand how the others could do it so easily. Nor could she grasp why the Green were so comfortable having him along. His weakness made him dangerous to everyone, even if he could not help it.

To her surprise, Joren laughed. The sound was cut short, as he followed it with a wince of pain.

"Ye can't know," he said. "Of course not. Ye can't know th' deep truth of anyone, talented or not. None of us ever know. I thought ye were th' one to be sure of that, Wildcat."

She stared at him, unable to think of any sensible answer. In spite of the pain that made his eyes squeeze half shut, he looked directly back at her. She could not look away.

"But we can try," put in Hest, coming forward to take his lover's hand. "We have to trust sometimes, even when it does hurt."

Joren's eyes shifted towards Hest. Wildcat blinked.

"So he's still coming along with us," she said, stating what she felt was clearly obvious. She was not prepared to agree with the others, though.

"We can pad your feet well with leaves and bandages," Willow told Joren. "We'll bathe them whenever we stop to rest. We'll keep them clean so they don't fester."

"It's going to hurt. A lot," Wildcat added.

"Yes," Joren replied. "I expect it will. I'll just have t' grow used to it. Bind 'em up and let's get going."

Indulging in a very long, loud sigh, Wildcat decided to go searching for fresh leaves suitable to use as dressings. Willow could check Joren over to make sure he had no broken bones or other serious hidden injuries.

No more fishing villagers came forward to apologise for the misunderstanding, or to help with Joren. Perhaps they all felt they had been generous enough already. The elder woman did provide two more bags of sea water, which Hest took charge of carrying. Some Green showed Hest a suitable tree from which to cut a pair of strong walking sticks for his lover to use. This interested the villagers. Many of them appeared surprised that the Green understood how to make tools.

It was long past noon, and Wildcat could not see how the Green and their companions were going to be allowed to continue on their way. She found it hard to believe none of the villagers would want to catch some Green to take home with them.

Moving close to Neamis, she whispered to him, "How are we ever going to get away now?"

Neamis gave her a smile that suggested he knew something she did not. "Hest tells me villagers like Green's belly buttons," he said.

"What?" She spoke loudly, in irritation. "Belly buttons? What's that got to do with anything?"

"Fishing villagers' word for belly button is 'scar-of-life'," he replied. "For Wanderers, it is word that means something like that, too. Fish have no belly buttons."

"And?" Wildcat did not see how this could make a difference to their chances of getting away.

"Shows them how Green are people," Neamis answered. "Like us. Like them. Like everyone. Not fish, to catch and eat."

"But they eat meat as well, don't they? From inland animals? Lots of those have belly buttons."

At this, Neamis gave another smile. "Wanderers teach children not to ask questions of these things," he said. "Wanderers meet many different people in different places. Everywhere, people have own ideas. Everywhere, some ideas are strange. This one will help us. Best not argue."

"Huh." She would have liked to say a lot more about these stupid fishing villagers. Instead, she shut her mouth tightly. It was more important to travel on, as soon as possible.

Neamis was proved right. As the Green and their six non-green companions eventually continued on their journey, the villagers stood aside and waved them off.

Wildcat refused to allow herself to look behind until they been walking for quite some time. Finally pausing to check carefully, she found no sign of anyone following. The villagers really did seem to have returned home.

She thought the Green had probably _talked_ to the few villagers who had a talent. Those villagers might have been able to convince the others to remain peaceable. In any case, Wildcat was reasonably sure that between herself, Rock and the Green, they would spot any later pursuit in time to give warning.

With the help of the two walking sticks, Joren kept up as well as he could. Wildcat knew his feet were still raw and cold with shock. The worst pain and swelling would likely start to come on him tomorrow, after a night's rest.

Even so, progress was very slow for the rest of the afternoon. Wildcat was not all that disappointed. Her injured shoulder caused her far more trouble than she was prepared to admit to the others. It was actually quite pleasant not to be the slowest member of the group anymore.

When the daylight began to fade, she selected a dry hollow, deep inside the roots of an old spreading wryleaf bush. It was dusty, and home to large numbers of crawling insects, but it would do. Wildcat lay down on a bed of old leaves and closed her eyes.

No one argued with her decision. She could soon hear the sounds made by the others as they also prepared to stop for the night. Neamis was explaining to Rock and Willow the best way of shelling some seeds he had collected earlier. Wildcat dared not offer to help them. She was aware of having overused her shoulder and needed to hold it still.

She heard Joren approach her dusty bed long before it became necessary to open her eyes and look at him. The noise he made with his two sticks had been unmistakable. Making no comment as he awkwardly lowered himself to the ground, she watched him carefully. As yet, he did not appear feverish.

"Hest went t' search fer water," he said. "Reckon' I'll rest here."

Wildcat could tell from his voice that every word had been an effort to speak. Having spoken, he lay down flat. He was on a patch of ground slightly above her, under cover of the farthest reach of the wryleaf twigs.

"We'll have to check on your feet before it gets dark," she informed him, without moving. "And the bruises."

For several moments he did not reply, as if needing all his breath for himself. Finally, he answered, "Had worse."

"Really?"

"Ssss... yes," he replied, taking in air between his teeth. "My own folk were often... aaah, not kind."

"We'll have to poultice your feet again. If we don't treat them, they'll swell too much for you to walk at all tomorrow." She wanted her tone of voice to be sharp, to show he was not forgiven, but it came out softer than she meant it to.

"Y've no need t' forgive me, Wildcat," Joren said then. "I did a wrong thing. I were afraid."

"Do you mean telling those villagers about the Green, or deciding not to have a talent?"

"Only th' first. The second's no one else's business."

"We stood side by side to protect the Green from those men at the drumming."

He laughed. "And against th' wishes of our friends. That we did. Everyone makes mistakes, eh?"

Wildcat frowned, not really wanting to admit the truth of what he had said.

After a silent pause, she asked. "Are you as keen on staying with Hest as you are on getting to the Forest?"

She did not think anyone else was listening to their conversation. Hest had not returned yet. Neamis, Willow and Rock were chatting quietly together as they shelled seeds, some distance away.

Dry leaves rustled as Joren shifted his weight.

"I do love Hest," he replied, very softly. "Ye think I sh'd let ye go on. I don't fit with th' rest of ye. I'm slowing ye down."

"Yes you are," Wildcat agreed. There was no point in lying about it.

She expected him to point out how she had also slowed the others down. But he did not.

Instead, he said, "And I'm a fool to follow a water reader. He won't keep with one person for long. He has t' follow the flow when it goes on."

Everything Wildcat had so far learned about Hest, and about water reading, led her to agree. Hest would never stay long in one place or with one lover.

"Yes," she replied.

"Well I know all that!" Joren snapped, suddenly talking more loudly. "'Course I do. But he and I – and you others – there's something we c'n do t' help th' Forest. I know it. You do too."

Wildcat was very, very tired. She had no energy to argue with him. Or to ask how he thought he could help the Forest without taking up his talent.

"Yes." She spoke wearily.

"I turned away from my talent." Joren was almost whispering, once more. "I made that choice, like Willow said. So a little part of me feels that guilt. Always. Even though I'd not go back to it. Not ever. If I c'n do something t' help th' Forest, maybe that guilt will go away."

It was too much for Wildcat to care about, just then. There was nothing she wanted to say.

Yet, in the quiet that followed, her thoughts would not rest. She found herself remembering a time in the marshes, before Rinnet had arrived to help out. In truth, Wildcat knew exactly how it felt to want to drive away guilt. Even when you had no proper reason to feel guilty at all.

There was no way that Wildcat could have become Rinnet's apprentice any earlier than she had done. So she could never have saved those marsh villagers who had died from swamp fever before Rinnet arrived. Even Rinnet might not have been able to save them. Over and over again, Wildcat had sternly reminded herself of those facts.

Nor was there any reason at all for Wildcat to feel guilty that she, herself, had never caught the swamp fever. She should not feel guilty for having survived. Or for not being able to save the rest of her family.

And yet she felt guilty for all of those things, every single day.

TWELVE –WILLOW

In the last of the evening light, Willow cleaned, poulticed and wrapped Joren's feet once more. A short distance away from them, Wildcat appeared to be sleeping.

Joren made no complaints as Willow treated him. Yet, she thought that was probably because he was too exhausted to speak.

Neamis had got a little fire burning on top of a flat stone. Willow had been able to heat a small pouch of water, adding various fresh leaves she had collected nearby. In this way, she had made a strong and soothing tea for Joren to drink. It was not long before he was as deeply asleep as Wildcat.

Willow then joined Rock, Neamis and Hest, by the fire. They sat in a line on a chunk of fallen branch wood.

"I did my best to scare away the beetles under where we're sitting," Rock said, "but I can't promise they listened."

Everyone stared into the flames. The fire was not big enough for the heat to reach far, but it was cheerful. Neamis had arranged a ring of seed kernels on the stone around the edge. Every few breaths, he leaned forward to stir them around.

"Such short-lived things, insects" Hest commented.

"Insects live quick, stones live long. Very long," agreed Neamis. "And water is what? Does it live always, or only one moment?"

"Oh." Hest sounded thoughtful. "I see what you mean. Well, I guess it's both. Water is like... like the flow, the movement, that's the water itself."

"But in winter?" asked Neamis. "Ice? Snow?"

"Then it's... I think it must be almost like stone listening," answered Hest.

In spite of the growing darkness, Willow caught the Wanderer's sharp look in response to this.

"You want to learn water reading?" she asked Neamis.

"Yes, I do." His wide smile told Willow she had guessed exactly why he had guided the conversation in that direction.

"Oh, well I can tell you everything I know," Hest quickly replied. "I can certainly help you to try."

"Will Joren mind?" Rock asked him. "He might be jealous, not having a talent at all."

Willow glanced in the direction of the furthest reach of the wryleaf branches. Joren and Wildcat still looked deeply asleep.

"I'll explain to him. It'll be all right," Hest answered, quietly. "He's not jealous of the talents. He doesn't disapprove of them or anything like that. He just doesn't want one, himself. My talent only bothers him because water's always shifting. Changing. Moving on. The thing is, I think he'd like us to be living-partners. And I love him, but I just don't want to be so... fixed, so unchanging."

Willow regarded him sadly, fearing that Joren was going to be hurt, and that Hest knew that too.

She also thought Neamis was likely to be hurt in a similar way by Wildcat one day. But it was Neamis who spoke next, and his words surprised her.

"Flow, like water, yes," the Wanderer said thoughtfully. "Yes Hest, we all should flow like water. Your lover Joren will learn. Like Wanderer children." He gave a small wistful smile. "Wanderers always move on, always leaving some thing behind. Learn to have joy when joy is found."

It seemed Neamis was perfectly well aware that Wildcat might not want to remain his lover for ever.

They ate the roasted seeds as the fire died down to ash. Then Neamis went to lie down beside Wildcat, and Hest settled himself next to Joren.

Willow and Rock burrowed together into the deep leaf litter that had built up behind the fallen branch. She tried to help him warn off more of the insects, sleepily using her weak animal talking talent. As she did so, the comfortable presence of the Green reached her from some distance away. Then, before Rock had even finished using his stronger talent, Willow had dropped into sleep.

The next day, Joren's feet were very badly swollen. At first, the others tried taking turns to carry him as the fishermen had done. It was exhausting, and barely any quicker than waiting for him to creep forward on his own, using his two sticks.

The third time Hest and Rock had to put him down and rest, Willow had been carrying the sticks. She quickly passed them over, so that Joren could lean on them. But after a few moments, he let them drop and eased himself down on the dry earth.

"Salt it! Ye sh'd all go on. Don't wait for me," he said, irritably.

Looking behind, Willow could still make out the yellowing leaves of the wryleaf bush where they had all spent the previous night. In the opposite direction, there was a low hill ahead. There were no tall trees. Only shrubby bushes seemed to like the conditions, running low over the ground or growing in small, round hummocks.

Hest stepped closer, reaching out to lay a hand on her arm. "You'll get on a lot quicker without us," he said. "I understand. But I'll stay with Joren."

Willow did not want to leave Hest. She loved him as a life-long friend. But she knew it was sensible to be wary of Joren, at least for the moment. However much the Green seemed content to have him along, there was no denying that he had given up the secret of their existence very easily. Most likely, it had been done out of fear, and nothing else.

Also, Joren was not the only injured member of the group. Willow suspected that Wildcat had been pushing herself too hard. If they all went at Joren's pace, Wildcat would be forced to slow down.

There was absolutely no question of anyone suggesting Wildcat should not continue on the journey. The marsh girl would stay with the Green, no matter what. That had been clear right from the start.

Willow glanced at Rock, but he showed no sign of wanting to express an opinion.

Then, before Willow could make up her mind how to answer Hest, Neamis asked, "Where are Green?"

"They're not far ahead, at the bottom of the hill..." Wildcat began to answer.

Willow searched for them using her talent. In the same the moment, Wildcat said, "...they're up to something."

Once she knew where they were, Willow was just able to spot the Green. They were hard to see against the brown-green hillside. Tree speaking, she soon discovered they were seeking out fallen wood, bark and strips of the long spiny leaves of local plants.

"Well," said Wildcat after a long pause. "I think they're going to make something for Joren to ride on." Turning to Joren, she added, "You're staying with us. The Green want you."

It was impossible for Willow to be certain, but she thought her friend might be secretly relieved.

"So we stay here. Wait for Green to build," said Neamis. "Here is food, I think."

Picking up a short stick from the ground, he began digging underneath one of the spiky, hummocky bushes. He was soon able to pull up some roots Willow did not recognise. After peeling these, Neamis offered them around for the others to eat.

The roots were sweet and pleasant. After eating her portion, Willow went to tree speak closely with some more of the plant. The creeping plant's leaves were small and sparse in comparison to the size of its underground parts, which reached deep, in search of water. After thanking it for her meal, Willow decided to look over Joren's injuries once more.

He was lying down, resting his feet while he had the opportunity. As Willow lifted away the edges of the leaf dressings to check the state of his skin, she chatted, trying to take his mind off the pain.

"What's a sea token?" she asked him. "You said you were going to use them to pay for our supper when you went to that village. I never heard of them before. Are they like coins?"

"Not like coins." He sounded much less cross than before. Perhaps he had never truly wanted the others to walk on without him. And perhaps he was pleased to know how much the Green seemed to want to keep him with them.

"A person makes their own sea tokens, carving them from wood or bone," he explained, as Willow replaced some of his leaf-dressings with fresh ones. "Shells even. They take a lot of work to make, but fishermen sometimes have time to spare in bad weather, or on the sea when it's being kind. I had some beauties. A bone seal, little wood people with faces, a little boat I made. Th' salted thieves took all."

"I'm sorry. And you were only after a taste of fish because you'd missed it. And you'd have brought some back to share with us."

"Instead, I gave away what we'd agreed was secret. I know. I don't blame ye fer disliking me for that. I'm disliking myself."

She re-covered his feet and began checking the largest of his other injuries.

Hest had come to stand behind them. He looked over Willow's shoulder at every bruise and wound she uncovered on his lover's body.

"Hest carved a mouse out of wood and gave it to me, once," she told Joren, having decided they should remain friends for the present, in spite of everything. "It's gone now. I carried it all the way to the Spice City in a travelling pack, but then Harvesters took everything I had."

"I remember that mouse," Hest said. "Emmie thought it looked too much like a rat, but the wood was as it was and the carving just wanted to go that way."

"We were three friends the same age, Hest, me and Emmie," Willow put in, by way of explanation, in case Joren did not know.

"A token is only a token." Joren gave a long, slow sigh. "It has t' go t' someone else in the end. If it didn't, we'd all be smothered underneath a pile of our own makings."

Willow hoped Red Dawnweaver had thrown her possessions away, thinking them worthless. Otherwise, some Harvester somewhere might still have the carved mouse, and her rainbow-painted drum.

After Willow had re-wrapped Joren's bandages, several Green arrived, bringing the device they had constructed for him to ride on. It had two poles that extended out in front. Four Green, holding onto these, could easily pull the device along the ground. Joren was instructed to sit in a strong cradle of woven stems and leaves strung between the poles. There was even a special sling for him to rest his feet in.

From then on, the journey progressed far more successfully. Willow continued to wash and bind Joren's feet during every rest stop. The Green even managed to talk Wildcat out of helping too much.

After just a few days of being pulled along by the Green, Joren was able to go back to walking, using his two sticks for balance. The Green then dismantled their carrying device, leaving its materials behind.

It was shortly after Joren had begun to walk again that Willow got her very first glimpse of the sea. Holding tightly onto Rock's hand, she stood on a windy hill. Far in the distance, a flat area of grey-blue stretched underneath the sky. The cries of seabirds mixed with the noise of the wind.

Hest and Joren had also paused to look. They stood just a few paces away. Wildcat and Neamis had already gone running forward, calling out that they would search for a way down to the edge of the water.

The Green were some way off. They were not interested in distant views. Instead, they seemed to make sense of their environment through smells carried on the wind. Or subtle changes in the make-up of surrounding plants and animals. Or the growth habits of trees, and patterns in the rocks.

From her conversations with them as they had travelled, Willow knew that none of them had been in the seaward side of the Forest before. They understood that it was necessary to be close to the sea, in order to reach the Forest on this side of Big Drop. By following the sea, they would get to the Forest. But, from the moment they arrived there, their route would head directly inland, towards an environment more familiar to them.

"How I've missed yer," Joren addressed the sea. He was using both sticks to balance with, as he stared out towards the horizon.

Hest laughed, "But it's always been there," he said. "It never went away, you just couldn't see it."

"Not th' sight of it. Th' sound and th' smell of it, close to," Joren replied, sounding grumpy.

At that moment, Willow could only imagine what the sea must be like close up.

It was not long before Wildcat and Neamis returned, looking obviously disappointed.

"It's too far," Wildcat said.

"Told ye, didn't I?" Joren muttered, quietly.

"Well if..." Wildcat started to say.

"Don't ye' think I know?" Joren interrupted her. "If I hadn't got cut feet after angering some fishermen, we might've been able to spare a day t' visit th' sea. Don't ye think I want to be there, resting these sore feet in cold salty water? But th' Forest always calls us on, don't it?"

Then Wildcat sighed. "Sorry Joren," she said mildly, to Willow's surprise. "We go on."

"We go on," he agreed. "I've smelled no more villages of any kind round here. So it'd be a tough place t' survive for long, in any case. Most fishing villages are nearer th' Spice City, in the opposite direction to th' Forest. Rough and lonely here. We don't want to hang about 'till winter comes on us."

Not only was the area lonely. It hardly ever rained. Hest said the clouds that passed overhead had already dropped their rain further inland. Here, they were often barren. On the rare occasions when it did rain, the travellers had to pause to trap some, and refill their water sacks.

The call of the Forest had increased in strength. Willow could feel it tugging at her like the pull of an invisible skin dance rope.

"Not long now," Rock said, one afternoon. He sounded cheerful. There was something in his voice that made Willow lift her head and straighten her shoulders.

The Green had seemed excited all that day, and she was certain they were travelling faster than before.

Suddenly, a few paces ahead, Wildcat leapt straight into the air, giving a shout of happiness.

"I can see it!" she cried.

"Yes," agreed Neamis, who was standing right beside her.

Willow narrowed her eyes, trying to make out what Wildcat had seen. In front of them was sandy soil held in place by tufts of bittergrass, sloping gently upwards. To one side, the land dropped down towards the distant sea. On the other, it rose shallowly. Willow concentrated hard. She could certainly feel the Forest straight ahead, but could see no trees, just a dark blur on the horizon.

Then Willow noticed how fast the Green were moving, all making their way towards that faraway shadow.

"Oh," she said, then. "You mean that darkness. It looks nearly as wide as the sea."

"The Forest is very big," Rock agreed. "And there it is."

THIRTEEN – WILDCAT

On the previous day, the edge of the Forest had been clearly visible in the distance. Now Wildcat had followed the Green all the way there, to find no obvious boundary between Forest and not-forest, after all.

There were trees, but at first they were widely spaced. As she walked further on between them, the ones ahead seemed to be growing a closer together than those behind. Gradually, as the day went on, it became harder to choose easy routes between them. Meanwhile, the call of Forest, that had pulled at Wildcat constantly for so long, began to feel different.

Sometime after noon, her feet felt so light, she was almost dancing. Neamis walked beside her. All of a sudden, he gave a little skip.

Wildcat felt regular pulses of joyfulness coming from the Green. They were all some distance ahead. Except for two who had dropped back a little, probably to keep a check on how Joren was managing. He was a short way behind Wildcat and Neamis. Hest, Willow and Rock had stayed with him, but Wildcat had pushed ahead.

Turning to look at Neamis as they continued walking, she asked, "So, how many times have you already been to the Forest?"

"Wanderers meet Forest each three – four – five – seasons," he replied. "More springs and young summers than winters. Forest is very big. Very much of it to meet, so each visit is new to me. I have visited before..." He paused, mouthing words to himself in the Wanderer language. "...Fifteen times, I think."

"But the first few you were too young to remember."

"Yes, that is true."

"So will the other Wanderers go into a different part of the Forest after they've been through the low villages to confuse the Harvesters?"

"No. No need, without Green. Winter comes soon. They will stay where there are more villages... with food."

He had turned to look at her, and the expression in his eyes was sad. She hoped he did not regret his choice to leave his relatives behind.

"How long do Wanderers usually stay inside the Forest? When they do come here?" she asked. "Why do they go away again?"

Neamis laughed, making Wildcat feel momentarily embarrassed. But at least he seemed to have cheered up again.

"Wanderers wander," was his reply. "Gather forest plants, and learn, and meet with Forest. Then Wanderers move on. If one stays, they become a Rat or they grow Green."

"Oh."

So, Neamis and Flight had known they would leave their own people forever if they chose to come here. Wildcat had made a similar choice when she decided to leave the marshes. She knew exactly how hard it must have been for them.

"Turn Green?" she queried.

Neamis chuckled. "You would like to do that? It happens."

For some reason, Wildcat was afraid to let him see just how exciting she found that idea. Turning her head, she glanced behind to check on their non-green companions, who were probably not close enough to have overheard anything. Willow immediately caught her gaze, answering with a huge grin. Even Rock looked cheerful. Further behind, Hest and Joren walked more slowly, their faces hidden in shadow.

Joren's feet were healing, but not well. The constant travelling had prevented that. In Wildcat's opinion, he would probably develop some bad scarring that might always cause him pain. She tried not to let his situation remind her too much of her own problems. Her shoulder might never regain full strength or completely stop hurting, either.

The Green had already told Wildcat they intended to keep up a fast pace until they were deep into the kind of habitat they recognised. From what she had learned so far, it seemed they had all originally lived somewhere nearer to the Great Forest Road. Although not all together. They had come from at least three different locations.

Now they had formed a new group, and they needed a new home for winter. But first, they were determined to lead their rescuers to some Rats. In fact, Wildcat was fairly certain they meant the very same group of Rats who had been in touch with Flight before her death.

Here within the trees, it was mostly impossible to see the Green at all. Yet Wildcat always knew exactly where they were. Not even Hest could track them like she could.

The way was getting tougher, with rocks and tree roots poking through the ground all over the place, and tricksy hollows hidden under piles of leaf litter. Even so, Wildcat was enjoying herself. So far, moving through Forest was not very different to travelling around the marshes, except that it was a lot drier.

For the remainder of the day, she concentrated her attention on the surrounding Forest. Various unfamiliar sharp-spined and toxic-seeming plants were probably best avoided. But there was plenty of nightsheart, knife grass, ribseed, shiver-reed and binsey. And there were yellowmops, with drooping brown seedheads, growing under small breaks in the tree canopy.

By animal talking, Wildcat found out that there were wolves in the area. There was no need to threaten them to make them keep away. They would avoid the strangers. In one place, a tree-cat watched the travellers from above. It crouched on a thin branch, ready to drop down on anything it considered prey. Wildcat shot a threatening thought at it. Startled, but unmoving, the creature then pretended to ignore her, but it did not attack.

Towards evening, Wildcat thought she caught the feel of a huge animal. The contact was brief, then gone in an instant. It had not been close, but it had seemed bigger than any creature she had ever met before.

"Rock!" she called out. "Did you feel anything just then? Some very big animal?"

He was quite a distance behind her. Rather than keep shouting, she waited for him to catch up. The forest plants now grew so densely that no one could see the others unless they huddled closely together. Wildcat had been keeping track of them all, though. She could hear each of Rock's footsteps as he approached across dry leaves. Neamis, for once, was further back, probably talking to Hest about water reading.

"I thought it must be my imagination," Rock said, stepping out from behind a hoarwhittle tree. "That sound came just when I was wondering if we'll meet a black beast. But if you noticed too, I guess it must have been real."

Standing together, Wildcat and Rock then both reached out to the Green with their talents, asking for information.

"Well, I've got no idea what that meant," Rock said aloud, a few moments later.

"They're worried," Wildcat interpreted. But their reply had confused her, too. She thought they were saying they had both noticed and not noticed something. Whatever it was, they did not seem interested in meeting it in person. They were already hurrying onward.

"Listen out for witherbirds!" she shouted out, loud enough for everyone to hear. The silly birds were known for making a lot of noise if they sensed a predator, even at the risk of getting found and eaten as a result.

Willow, Neamis and Hest were now only two or three trees away. Joren was further back, in a patch of sharp-spined, ground-covering plants.

"Hey, everyone, speed up!" Wildcat added, more urgently. "The Green don't like it here. They want to move on, fast!"

A moment later, Willow came into view between two oak trees. "Witherbirds?" she asked. "Is there a big predator tracking us, then? Is there a bear?"

Rock had not yet moved. Wildcat left him to explain to Willow and the others. She set off after the Green, straight away. They would probably not let her fall too far behind to sense them, but it would be best not to have to find out.

Whatever the big creature had been, it did not return. The Green eventually slowed their pace and began looking for somewhere to settle for the night. So the three non-green couples did the same. Everyone kept within calling distance of everyone else, but spread out, for privacy.

Wildcat joined Neamis in a comfortable leaf-filled hollow between the roots of a tree whose name she did not know. Its root bark was very thick and felt quite soft. The bed of fallen leaves was dry, sheltered under low branches that still carried a good many fresh ones. There were insects, spiders and mice there, but nothing larger.

"No sand, but this is a dry place," Neamis commented. He had been reaching through the leaves to touch the soil beneath.

"Good," she answered him, feeling content.

That night, as they shared love, her injury hardly bothered her at all.

The next morning, and for many more days after that, the Green continued to lead the travellers away from the seaward trees. They often followed streams, or waded across them. Neamis said the rocks beneath their feet were now different to those nearer the coast.

It rained more often here. When that happened, water dripped steadily through the leaf canopy overhead. There were long dangling falls of a green-grey substance hanging down from some of the trees. These soaked up large quantities of rain before it ever reached the ground.

Rather like the smaller creatures living on the skin and hair of the Green, the substance of these falls was both plant and animal. It was something like the slime-nets that grew on rocks in the marshes. Wildcat often brushed her fingers against it as she went by, sharing gentle greetings.

Biting insects were troublesome. Animal talking was rarely enough to keep them off. But Wildcat knew which leaves to crush and rub onto clothing, skin and hair to drive them away. The Green seemed very amused by her efforts. Either they did not feel insect bites, or the creatures already living in their skin and hair gave some kind of protection.

Each day of travel involved much crawling through thickets and clambering over low branches. The larger trees included shimmering rimes, oaks and homewoods. Beneath these, hazels, hawthorns and rockgrippers sprawled in untidy tangles. Some trees carried huge garlands of climbers. Wildcat saw plenty of slackvine and ropevine. There were also a great many plants that were entirely new to her.

Once, finding herself walking close enough to Willow for a chat that did not require them both to shout, she happened to mention this.

"I know. There are lots I don't know by name," Willow admitted. At that moment they were making their way carefully past an unknown bush with finger-long spines. "I can work out a few I've never actually seen growing before, because I met them when I worked in Red Dawnweaver's stillroom."

Neamis happened to be only a couple of trees the other side of Wildcat, so he overheard. "Trees like rocks. Do not name themselves," he commented.

Wildcat tested a suspicious looking patch of black ground with the toe of her shoe, but it turned out to be dry and hard, not boggy. Her shoes were reasonably waterproof, anyway. They had been woven for her by the Green, using some kind of reed.

"I learned the names of some forest herbs from Sparkle," she said, walking on forward. "Though she never used forest-harvested plants, herself. And I know the smell of honeywood." She took a deep breath, because that was the smell she had just picked up. A few steps further on, the smell strengthened.

Willow drew level with her and then stopped walking. Wildcat paused, too, taking in the gorgeous smell as they waited for the other non-green to catch up. She had heard Rock begin to move faster as he left the spiny bush behind. Joren and Hest were too far back for her to hear their footsteps. She could gauge their rough location from the odd crack of a branch, and the brief silencing of birdsong as they passed.

Neamis suddenly moved very close to Wildcat. He even reached out a hand to stroke her cheek. At the same time, Willow set off in the direction of the lovely smell.

"Wanderer name for this tree means love-dreaming," Neamis said, softly.

Wildcat smiled at him, but she did not return his touch. It was important not to lose track of the others, or the Green.

"I've found it!" Willow's voice reached them from a short way ahead. "Oh, look at that. It's just like I imagined, only so very much bigger. There's a thicket of billingsberry underneath and the acet vines are huge!"

Wildcat set off to look, with Neamis keeping pace beside her. They found Willow joyously gazing at her discovery.

So many tasty looking billingsberries were too much of a treat to ignore. Wildcat informed the Green, straight away, but they did not seem interested in sharing the berries. She wondered if they had known about them already, and had decided the non-green could have them all as a kind of gift.

After she had eaten a good few, herself, Wildcat intended to go in search of Hest and Joren to guide them to the right place. However, the pair soon turned up of their own accord. She suspected the Green of having _talked_ with Hest to send him in the right direction.

"Here is nice place, Wildcat," Neamis said quietly. He had come very close to her again and was pointing towards to a tall rock, covered in moss. "Behind that we could be private if you want?"

She would have rather liked to go with him for some love-play, but the Green were still moving.

"Not now," she answered Neamis. "If we don't follow soon, I'm afraid I'll lose track of the Green." It was a small lie. She was really only afraid of having to go so fast to catch up that it would be impossible to hide how much her arm was aching from the berry-picking.

As she led the others away from the honeywood tree, Wildcat thought that Willow seemed cross and sulky. Later, she overheard Rock questioning Willow about what was wrong. They were spread out, so Wildcat could not see any of the others, but she knew that Rock, Willow and Neamis were still within a few trees of one another.

"Do you want to go back there, Willow?" Rock was asking. "I'll come with you. We can catch up with the others later."

"I was just trying to see if the tree could help me speak with the little honeywood I planted in your parents' garden in the city," Willow admitted, after quite a long pause. "But I needed more time."

She had not exactly answered the question. Wildcat hoped Rock would not truly be prepared to go all the way back to the honeywood. She had rather hoped there would not be too much more walking before the Green decided to stop for the night. It could not be all that long until dusk.

"There are plenty more honeywoods here. You can try again," came Rock's voice. He sounded a little irritated.

He was right, of course. But Willow was behaving as though she might somehow get snatched away from the Forest at any moment. Wildcat had already seen her friend plant the tiny crewel tree cuttings the Wanderers had given her to carry. Those twigs could not possibly have rooted properly yet, but Willow had insisted on getting them bedded into forest soil as soon as possible. Rock and Wildcat had both argued for giving the little plants longer to grow roots before leaving them alone, but Willow had been afraid to wait. She had said they should be planted as soon before winter as possible.

Willow and Rock had already told Wildcat all about the warnings given them by the harvest wagon owner. Wildcat was rather afraid that her friend expected to be killed by the dangers of Forest quite soon.

Yet, the present irritation in Rock's voice was most likely because Willow had mentioned his parents. Wildcat had never understood why he seemed to think people should care that he was born a Harvester. No one had a choice about where they were born. To her, what mattered was what they did after that.

Wildcat was longing for a quiet place to rest until the next morning, but the Green suddenly broke into her thoughts with a rush of delight. There would be a full moon, they reminded her. So they would do another drumming, this time in the Forest. And this time, they wanted their non-green companions to listen from only a very short distance away.

She would not get any sleep, after all, but it would be worth a little tiredness to hear the Green drum in the Forest.

"Hurry!" Wildcat shouted out loud to the non-green. "Did you hear that, everyone?"

Joren would obviously not have heard the Green. Hoping he would not sulk, she led the way to the place where the Green had settled.

Once she got close to them, Wildcat chose a comfortable spot to rest under the shelter of some low branches. Neamis soon joined her.

When the other non-green arrived as well, Joren did not complain. Wildcat guessed he was just pleased to sit on the ground, whatever the reason.

That night, the Green created a sound that was deep and muted. Although Wildcat could not actually see them, she thought they were all drumming together on the same large, hollow, fallen log. The noise rumbled along the forest floor from the log's two ends. The rhythm was accompanied by sounds of falling rain, wind in the tree tops, and small cascades of leaves dropping to the ground.

Very little moonlight reached past the clouds above the forest canopy. Yet the darkness allowed Wildcat to see the a soft glow of small luminous plants. Their light appeared to pulse in time with the drumming. Wildcat was very careful to feel out with her talent for any nearby predator animals, and she was sure Rock did the same. Even Willow used her smaller animal talking skill to keep watch on the Green while they drummed. Yet, nothing at all seemed inclined to take advantage of the Green's vulnerability. It was as though everything in the Forest had paused to enjoy the celebration.

Afterwards, Wildcat got a very short sleep before the Green set off again at their usual pace.

Later that same day, she became aware that Willow had been stationary for quite some time. Wildcat back-tracked a short way, to discover her friend standing in a pond, talking with a plant that filled more than half the area of the water. Thick, floppy leaves grew out of the numerous very tall stems, almost completely hiding them from view. Willow's empty boots lay on the mossy bank.

Wildcat recognised a water pipe plant, living in its natural home. In the Spice City, Harvesters used sections of the plants' thickest stems to make water pipes, because they were hollow and did not leak. One of those pipes had remained alive on the wall of a spice warehouse. It had befriended Willow when she had been trapped in there. Wildcat remembered how Rock had climbed across the roof of the warehouse to _talk_ with the plant as they had planned Willow's rescue.

Thinking back to the honeywood tree, Wildcat waited patiently at the water's edge for a while. Rock soon noticed what had happened and came to stand beside her. Together, they watched in case Willow slipped, or any predator animals decided to attack. For once, Wildcat was not impatient to go on quickly, in any case. She was still rather tired.

Joren and Hest eventually arrived, perhaps having been guided by the Green. Wildcat sat down on a boulder and Joren copied her. Hest and Neamis passed the time exploring the water. Meanwhile, Rock appeared to be tree speaking to the huge water pipe plant from where he stood on the pond bank. He was reaching out to touch a stem with both hands.

Wildcat did not use her talent at all, other than occasional checks on the location of the Green. To her relief, they finally stopped moving.

At last, Willow staggered out of the pond. Rock hurried to dry her chilled feet with burdock leaves. Willow spoke only a few words to him. She looked completely dazed.

As soon as possible after that, Wildcat began leading everyone closer to the Green, who immediately continued travelling. It was quite some time before Willow finally explained what she had been doing.

"I was trying to reach the city water pipe," she said.

Wildcat had been going deliberately slowly, so as to remain near her friend. "I thought so," she answered. "So, did it work? Did you manage it?"

"I don't know. There's so much else. It was hard to concentrate."

The Green had crossed a long stretch of very closely growing yaw trees. Wildcat carefully chose a trail made by some yaw roots that humped up above ground level. Turning to look behind, she was satisfied to see the others following her in a long line, with Willow at the front. Joren was last, still using two sticks to help him keep his balance.

"Does everyone find it harder to concentrate when they're using talent here?" Willow suddenly asked, speaking loudly. "And, is it just me, or is the call of the Forest different, too?"

Wildcat started to think about it. She was not sure what Willow meant, exactly. Then Hest spoke up from further behind her. "There's no need for it to call us at all," he pointed out. "We're already here."

"We are inside," Neamis backed him up. "But you were talent-dazed, I think, Willow."

"Inside Forest," Rock agreed, "I know, Neamis, but we're still separate, aren't we?"

Suddenly, Wildcat thought she knew what they were all getting at. She had noticed something wrong about her tracking skills for days. There were so many animals here, it was just not possible to stay aware of them all.

She and Rock had both missed the nearby presence of several curious wolves, a tree bear, some knife-toothed varnels and a real wildcat. It was the Green, not the two animal talkers, who had scared the predators away with their talents. Since entering the Forest, Wildcat had sometimes almost felt like an apprentice all over again.

"Oh yes," Neamis replied to Rock. "Forest is big. Many voices. You must not listen too much."

Wildcat nodded, to herself. She knew Neamis was right.

"It's so hard," said Willow. "Maybe harder for tree speakers than for stone listeners. Maybe even harder for animal talkers."

Neamis had sounded as though the Forest's effect on talent was something that Wanderers knew about. Before Wildcat could ask more, Hest was responding to Willow.

"Maybe," said Hest. "Stones and water must be just as common outside the Forest as inside, but there are certainly a good deal more living creatures here than we're used to."

"We're going to have to practise," Willow replied. "Just like when we first learned our talents."

"So say the Wanderers," Neamis agreed.

"Well it's no bother t' me," Joren called out, sounding rather proud of himself. "Now d'you all understand why I'm goin' t' stick as I am, eh?"

Wildcat bit back the reply she wanted to shout at him. Privately, she thought Joren was selfish not wanting to hear all the other voices within the Forest. And, with that thought, she came to a decision.

From then on, instead of trying to shut the Forest out, Wildcat began to practise letting it in. Over the days that followed, she opened herself to Forest more and more, determined to become stronger. It was difficult, especially while walking. Many times, she nearly tripped over her own feet. The Forest's effect began to seem almost as crippling and infuriating as the partly-healed stab wound in her shoulder.

Without mentioning it to anyone, she also began taking the bandage off her shoulder after dark. Neamis knew, of course, but he said nothing. If the wound ever got worse, Wildcat was certain he would tell Willow. But Wildcat took good care of herself, making sure the wound was always clean. Slowly and carefully, she began testing herself at using both of her arms once more.

As the journey through the Forest continued, leaves on many of the trees changed colour, preparing to fall before winter. Beneath, leafy herbs flowered, taking in warmth and light before the arrival of first frost.

The Green often gave Wildcat the impression of being in a greater hurry. Nobody grumbled out loud about the fast pace they set. Nor did anyone argue about the need to keep following them. Not even Joren.

The supplies of food the travellers had once carried had run out long ago. In winter, they would not find much by foraging or hunting. Already, predator animals were probably more likely to attack people than in summer. Wildcat hoped no one would die before they had even found the Forest Rats.

Yet they still did not come across any other people. Wildcat assumed all Green could _talk_ to one another, perhaps over long distances. But if there were conversations going on between the rescued Green and others elsewhere, they did not choose to let her know.

A green young woman and a man were already starting to become her particular friends. She thought of them as the one with a star-shaped brown patch on her shoulder and the one with paired stripes of green running down his back. They had a baby, whom Wildcat knew simply as the little one. Those three would seek her out while everyone rested at the end of the day. Then Wildcat would play with the baby while the adults looked on.

Sometimes Hest would join in. If there was a stream nearby, he could persuade the flowing water to jump and splash, amusing the baby and making it chuckle. Wildcat stopped being jealous about that fairly quickly. She found Hest's talent interesting, for one thing. Marsh villagers lived surrounded by water, yet she had never heard of a water reader until Willow had mentioned Hest.

Wildcat admitted to herself that the Green had done a very useful thing when they had called on him to join the group. In particular, he was able to check that water was safe to drink. Neamis could spot dissolved minerals in streams and ponds. And everyone could recognise really foul water. But Hest could do so much more. He could even select a place in a flowing stream that would taste fresher than somewhere two handspans further on.

When Hest, and often Neamis, too, came to play with the Green baby, Joren would usually watch in silence from nearby. He seemed perfectly respectful of the Green, but content to observe them without passing comment. Joren was still a puzzle to Wildcat. She could never quite decide whether to allow herself to like him. It was certainly very annoying to be constantly needing to warn him about harmful plants and animals. Especially since he rarely seemed all that grateful for the advice.

One day, she saved him from getting bitten by a blue-bite spider. Such a bite could have been fatal. Joren was just about to reach out and steady himself against the branch where the spider was lurking. Its intention to strike stirred Wildcat's animal talking sense and alerted her.

"Joren," she warned him, pushing his hand away from the occupied branch. "You'd have known it was there if you could animal talk. Why don't you try?"

"Seems t' me having talent's not always such a good thing in Forest," he answered, stubbornly. "I'm glad I can't tell all th' salted dangerous beasts n' nasty plants that'd kill me as soon as look at me. There's too many of 'em to be fearin' every single one. If I don't know, I've no need to worry, eh?"

She knew he was probably just trying to cover up his shock at what might have happened. Even so, she could not help asking, "Are you ever going to tell us the real reason you don't want a talent?"

"Maybe not," he replied, giving a smile that suggested he might have been trying to annoy her on purpose, all along.

Suddenly, his expression changed. He walked several paces away from her, veering off from the direction they had been going. "What's this?" he called back over his shoulder. "Looks odd t' me."

Wildcat hurried after him. He was pointing to where several branches had been snapped off their trees in an unusual way. She pushed down her annoyance at not having noticed it herself.

"Rock!" she called out. "Come and look at this."

It was definitely evidence of some sort of animal. A particularly big animal.

"I'm thinkin' either some very big animal lives here, or there must be very strange wind currents when it's stormy," Joren said.

Just as Rock arrived, there was a short, shrill sound above their heads. The call of a witherbird. Wildcat also noticed a change of mood among the Green. They seemed agitated and afraid.

"Animal, definitely," Rock was saying, his hands flat against the trunk of the injured tree. "And that was a witherbird. I don't like this at all."

"The Green are running towards us!" Wildcat cried out in warning. "They want us to stay here!"

The non-green gathered close. Then the Green all came scrambling out of the undergrowth that concealed the way ahead. Several of them waved their arms, conveying a sense of terror and the urgent instruction to hide.

"What was that?" asked Rock. "There's something huge out there."

Wildcat had no chance to answer him. Two of the Green came rushing straight at her, pushing her to the ground. Instantly understanding that it would be wrong to resist, she allowed them force her down underneath concealing plants. The noises she could hear as they did so suggested other Green were busy hiding the rest of her companions.

Moments later, there was an enormous sound. It lasted for several heartbeats. Wildcat felt dizzy. Something seemed to be confusing her talent. Concentrating on hearing with her ears instead, she knew she had just heard the roar of some monstrous animal.

She wanted to seek it out by animal talking, but a green-furred hand stroked her arm, as if in warning.

"No talent, Wildcat," Neamis's quiet voice reached her ears. "Hide. Be still. Be like stone. Black beast is near."

FOURTEEN – HEST

Two Green lay right on top of his own and Joren's bodies. Hest could feel the touch of their warm, damp, furry skin against his clothing. They smelled much like the deep leaf litter of the forest floor. From time to time, they let out soft vocal noises. Hest felt like a mouse crouching under a leaf in an attempt to hide from a hawk.

The beast's footsteps made shudders through water inside the soil. Hest tried to use this to work out exactly how close the animal was, and whether it was coming closer. The presence of the creature seemed to be having a strange effect, making him feel sick and dizzy. When Neamis had shouted at Wildcat not to use her talent, Hest had been too confused and surprised to pay attention. Now, he realised the warning had been important.

Letting his talent drop, he opened his eyes. He remained huddled against the ground, face down. Joren lay against him on one side. The two Green were also face down, covering Hest and Joren like living blankets.

Raising his head, he tried to look beyond the leaves and twigs swaying frantically about in front of him. His Green companion made a soft warning noise.

"Stay down, Hest," Rock's voice came to him from somewhere close by. "It's not near us yet, and it's very territorial. It... uh... it eats or stamps on anything it doesn't trust. But we're beyond the edge of its territory, here... I think."

Rock spoke breathlessly, like he was in pain. Hest guessed he must also have ignored Neamis's warning. As an animal talker, Rock could well be stretching his talent to its absolute limit if he had been trying to reach a black beast. It would probably be like trying to read the sea when standing on top of a cliff at low tide.

"Don't, Rock," came a whisper from Neamis. "We hide."

"But it... it's not..." Rock started to say. He paused, then finally got out, "The effect on talent's a defence. It isn't tracking us through our talents."

"How good's its hearing?" whispered Joren. His voice was muffled as he spoke against the ground.

Hest lowered his head and closed his eyes once more. Then he reached out to grasp Joren's hand. He could not tell if Rock was still animal talking. Perhaps Rock was right about the beast not sensing them. Or perhaps it knew exactly where they were, but was choosing to ignore them.

Against Hest's back, the Green person breathed evenly. Hest could tell that all of the Green were deliberately sending out feelings of peace and calm. Even without using talent to talk with them, Hest thought he could judge their mood from the physical touch of the one lying against him. He was certain all of the Green thought there was nothing helpful to be done in the present moment. Therefore, they relaxed, no longer needing to run or leap. Their flow had slowed to a point of rest.

"Is it all right to keep talking out loud, Neamis?" Hest whispered. As he did so, the Green draped over his back made no response, so he assumed they were not alarmed by his suggestion.

"Yes, quietly we can talk," Neamis answered.

"Talking about talent shouldn't hurt," Rock agreed. "The beast... Sounds don't interest it that much, unless they're loud enough to travel a long way. I think... I think it uses some sort of animal talking of its own, maybe to mark its territory against other beasts. Compared to them, we might be small enough not to be interesting. If it's not hungry right now, that is. It does have an excellent sense of smell. I think it could find us easily if it wanted to eat us. And if we move out from under cover, it could spot us and come closer to check us out."

Hest felt Joren's fingers tighten around his own. Again, he was aware of himself as prey. They were all very small and unimportant to the beast, except as food. Like mice to a hawk, or fish to a heron.

"Do no more animal talking, Rock!" Neamis's voice was sharp.

"But c'n someone keep talking out loud, please?" Joren begged, quietly. "Give me something t' think about that isn't huge and black with big teeth. I'm salted uncomfortable here."

"At least you're off your feet." That was Wildcat. Her voice came from somewhere behind Hest's head. He wondered if she was having to lie in a way that pained her injured shoulder.

"Tell more of water, Hest," said Neamis, suddenly. "I would like to know more of your talent from your words, not only from watching what you do. All can listen, and forget to worry about the beast."

Hest did not reply immediately. He expected Wildcat, or maybe Rock, to think of something different to discuss. No one else said anything, though. Perhaps they were waiting for him to begin.

"All right then." When Hest spoke, he was rather ashamed to hear how his own voice trembled.

Then he talked quietly about water. He tried very hard to let the comfort of the Green's peaceful breathing help him to stay relaxed. And he put as much of that calm as he could into his voice, hoping to pass some of it on to his listeners. There was nothing else for anyone to do that would not involve pointless worrying.

"The water around us is not just in rain and rivers and streams and pools," Hest quietly explained. "It's also inside the soil, and in the plant roots that are all tangled together underneath us like a big mat."

"I know," Wildcat interrupted. "The water in plants flows up their stems and trunks."

She sounded irritated. If so, Hest guessed he was not really the one responsible. Neamis and the Green had persuaded Wildcat not to animal talk with a black beast, even though Rock had still gone ahead and done so. And everyone's lives might be in danger, but there was nothing she could do to fight back. That seemed to make her more frustrated than afraid, and Hest could not help admiring her for that.

"Yes, it does," he went on carefully, not wanting to antagonise her. "It flows up until it leaks out into the air through tiny holes in the leaves. Tree speakers already know about that, but there's more." He let his voice take on the rhythm of a village storyteller. "Did you know that the water coming out of all the leaves in the Forest, all summer long, turns into big clouds of mist rising into the sky?"

No one answered, so he went on talking.

"And another thing. There's stored water flowing in tiny channels inside our own bodies. I've got to admit, right now I'm scared. So my mouth's dry and I'm thirsty."

Without meaning to, he had returned to their present situation. If he changed direction now, it would emphasise his own anxiety. That would be no help to the others, so he continued.

"As long as that black beast doesn't find us," he went on, after licking his dry lips, "the water inside me will get back into balance and I won't be thirsty anymore. Or, if I am, I'll find water to drink until the feeling goes away."

He had really only been speaking the first thing that came into his head. As he realised where his thoughts were going, he was careful not to let his voice break out of the reassuring storytelling pattern.

"But when I do die," he went on steadily, "my own water will go into plants and other living things. It'll carry on without me."

Interrupting, the black beast roared again. It sounded louder and closer. Without even meaning to, Hest squeezed Joren's hand, feeling Joren's grip tighten in return.

"What do they look like, Neamis?" Hest asked, not being able to keep his thoughts away from it any longer.

"I never saw one," the Wanderer replied. "I hear they are not all black, just seem black from far away. Far away is how most people like to stay."

"Wild," said Rock, very quietly. "Like Forest. No way to take control of it."

"Capability told me the Green can tame them," Willow put in.

"Really?" Wildcat answered, sounding surprised. "I didn't know. I'll ask them. I..."

A third roar interrupted her. The sound was more distant than before. Everyone fell silent, listening for another, but none came.

After what felt like a very long time, all the Green stood up at once. It seemed they considered the danger to be over. They immediately started making cheerful noises out loud. The two who had been pinning Hest and Joren to the ground now danced up and away into the trees. They had disappeared from view before Hest could even manage to sit up.

He began helping Joren to stand. They were both trembling.

"Still alive," Joren said. "So that was a black beast, eh?"

"Yes. Stomping along, minding its own business. Lucky it didn't notice us." Relief made Hest speak more loudly than he had intended.

"Did upset you all, didn't it? Upset your talents, I'm thinking."

Hest could see that Wildcat was on her feet and stretching out her good arm. "We're all thrown out by being in the Forest," she said irritably. "Don't show off about not being affected, Joren. I've stopped you from being bitten and stung so many times already, you'd have died ages ago if I wasn't around."

"I've got my own faults and you've got yours," Joren replied.

He probably sounded relaxed to Wildcat, but Hest could detect the underlying anger in his voice. He knew Joren was hurt by the accusation that he was less likely to survive the Forest than the others. As they set off once more, Hest reached out to touch his lover's shoulder. He wished Joren and the fierce marsh girl would not keep searching out and attacking one another's weak points.

As everyone started walking again, Joren soon dropped to the back of the group, probably to be out of range of Wildcat's voice. There was no need for Hest or anyone else to watch over him. Two Green were keeping Joren company, just as some of them had trailed Wildcat on the journey down Big Drop.

Since Hest still wanted to talk more with Neamis the Wanderer, he deliberately chose to walk alongside Neamis and Wildcat. Willow and Rock were further to one side, following a slightly different route. The place they were all now crossing was relatively open, under a canopy of very tall, but widely spaced, trees. The only obstacles were a lot of low-growing bushes. As Hest wove his way through these it was easy to stay fairly close to Neamis.

"Was I right, Neamis?" he asked. "When the beast was close, I thought its footsteps made the rocks shake under the ground. Is it really that big?"

"Yes," the Wanderer agreed. "Rocks, earth, shakes under feet of a big black beast. This is a Wanderer saying. Not nice to be learning how true."

"A saying?"

"Means something like, how things change when people are frightened."

"Ah." Hest thought that might also be a good way of explaining Wildcat's earlier rudeness to Joren.

"The Green say it was a fully grown male black beast," Wildcat put in, just then. She had moved ahead, but was now waiting for the other two to catch her up. "Local Green would know to stay out of its territory."

"True," Neamis added. "Wanderers meet black beasts in Forest only far from where Green live. Children are told to be always near to Green. I have never seen black beast."

Hest considered this. Thinking back, he realised something he had been too scared to notice at the time. When the beast had first disturbed them, the Green had seemed regretful, as though they had made a mistake. He already knew that none of them had originally lived in this part of the Forest. Now he wondered if they could be lost.

"The Green are worried," Wildcat said next, adding to his own doubts. "They aren't sure how safe they can keep us. They think we'll have a much better chance when we get to the other Rats."

"A better chance of staying alive?" Hest asked.

Wildcat did not answer that. So he guessed there was no reason for her to disagree. He continued to walk beside Neamis for a short while. Then he slowed his pace and dropped back, to be near Joren once more.

During the days following the encounter with the black beast, Hest and the other five non-green often walked closer together than before. The Green took to travelling in a ring formation, surrounding the non-green.

Hest usually knew the position of most of the Green through his talent. But it was common for him to lose sight of all of his companions, including Joren. As they clambered over uneven ground and pushed through thickly growing plants, everyone had to choose their own route. Most of the time, that meant they were all obscured from one another by leaves and branches.

One morning, while struggling to get over a particularly prickly length of old bramble, Hest overheard Willow talking to Wildcat. The two girls were probably not very far away from him and they were speaking quite loudly.

"Did you ask the Green about taming black beasts?" he heard Willow ask her friend. "Capability Reader told me he'd seen them do it."

"Yes I did," came Wildcat's reply, from somewhere up ahead. "In fact... well, you know the one with two stripes of green on his back? I think he's actually done it, or tried to. But it's hard to understand what he says about it."

She went quiet. Hest won the contest with the bramble, hooking it under his booted foot in order to climb past it. He thought Wildcat must be talking with the Green. Eventually, she spoke aloud once more.

"I think they have to capture a cub when it's very young," she said.

Hest had never particularly thought of the Green as hunters. He had only seen them foraging for their food. But then, he reminded himself, he had not yet met any Green other than this one particular group. There was no reason they should all be the same. It would be interesting to _talk_ with them about that some time.

He would save that for later. Right now, he needed to watch where he was going. This part of the Forest was carpeted with a great many more thick, old bramble stems, hidden under the fallen leaves. Above them, climbing plants covered the closely growing trunks of trees whose branches dripped with falls of weed-colonies.

"I don't think they do it very often." Wildcat continued talking to Willow. "I think they're telling me that if some Green manage to train a baby beast as it grows, it will work with them as an adult. But even then, it's just as dangerous as any other black beast to people it doesn't recognise."

She sounded excited by what she had just found out. Hest understood. He had found it easy enough to understand the Green's wishes when they had caught him by surprise back at Big Drop. But explaining something to them, or asking them questions, was a lot more complicated. Finding out as much as Wildcat had just done, in one go, was a huge achievement. As far as he could tell, she had also done it while continuing to walk though dense forest.

Just then, Rock's voice joined in from somewhere behind. Hest had not even realised he was also listening to the conversation.

"So, even with their talents, the Green can't talk to a black beast unless they've trained it from birth?" Rock asked. "The beasts throw off some kind of talent-confusing effect as a way of defending themselves. So what do the Green ask the trained ones to do? Can you ask them, please, Wildcat? You're so much better at getting them to understand questions than I am."

Again, Wildcat was silent for a while before answering. "Ah," she said, eventually. "I think the beasts move things for them. Like heavy branches, rocks, whole fallen trees. To make the Green homes. For the snow time. In summer they all live outdoors."

Hest stood still for a moment, looking about him to choose the next part of his route. A quick glimpse of Willow's brown jacket gave him her location, although Wildcat remained invisible and there was no sign of Neamis. A movement at his back brought his attention to the sight of Rock, just making his way through a gap between two trees. Then he spotted Joren, easing his way out from under a tree with drooping, almost feathery twigs and branches. Joren nodded in Hest's direction. Over the past few days, he had stopped using two sticks to get along. But he always carried one, to help him balance on the uneven ground.

"I'd been wondering about that," Joren commented. He must also have been listening to the earlier conversation. "Winter's especial' cold up here, I'm thinking. So how do the Green stay warm? What do they eat?"

Hest had never heard of any Green burning wood. And this group had certainly never lit a fire to his knowledge. Not even for their drummings. It also occurred to him that green bodies and hair might stand out against white snow. The children, especially, might easily be attacked by predatory animals.

There was a short silence. As he walked on cautiously, Hest thought Wildcat was probably _talking_ with the Green again. He could not help but admire the way she managed it while continuing to travel.

"Dusk!" she finally called out. "They eat a lot of dusk and then they sleep. For the whole winter."

Hest wondered if he might have imagined there was a touch of horror in Wildcat's voice. He listened for Willow's response, but did not hear her speak.

Faced with a particularly thick curtain of vines hanging from a branch that was right at the level his face, he stopped walking again for a moment. In the pause, he reached out to the Green with a question of his own.

In reply, they offered him mental impressions of a long, dark sleep, all in a big heap of bodies. There was a strong taste. Hest had never tasted dusk, but he knew what it smelled like. He withdrew from the mental conversation before the Green could pick up on how uncomfortable it made him.

"I'm thinking that won't work for us," said Joren, just as Hest had chosen a place to start pushing his way past the vine curtain.

Hest had never told him about the adventure that he and Willow once had with dusk, when they lived in the hills.

Just then, Willow spoke up, at last. "I remember when I first found out the Green were real and not just a story." She was talking slowly, as though making her way through a tricky section of the route at the same time.

"You thought they were only a story?" Hest asked, although he still could not see her.

"That's right, I did, at first. Then I found out our traditions of skin dancing and drumming come from the Green. Maybe some people's ways of using dusk come from them too," she went on. "I mean when people use dusk for dreaming and not just as medicine."

A long time had passed since Hest and Willow had tried to use dusk dishonestly. Even so, he felt uncomfortable as he remembered. He knew that neither of them really had any right to disapprove of how anyone else chose to use it.

"Dusk is a pushy plant," Willow continued, as though her thoughts were not all that different to his own. "It likes to let people feel its power."

"What will we be eating when the snows come?" Joren asked next.

Hest was relieved as the conversation changed direction. Joren and Neamis began to discuss possible sources of food within the Forest in winter.

"Why do the Rats stay here when the Harvesters don't?" Hest asked, after following their conversation for some time .

Yet, in the instant of speaking the words out loud, he realised he already knew the answer. Harvesters had wagons, supplies, horses and bullocks. They travelled in large groups and they had more comfortable homes in the city. It made sense for them to spend springs and summers on harvest runs, and winters in the Spice City. The Rats, on the other hand, were smaller groups, with no means of fast transport. If they came and went with the seasons, they would never be able to help the Forest against the earliest and latest harvest runs.

Rats who lived in the Forest all through the winter could keep on working to put right some of the damage done by previous harvests. And they would be well placed to spot the earliest arrival of the first Harvesters the following spring.

"Exactly because the Harvesters don't." Wildcat answered Hest's question, anyway. "Rats can live inside the Forest without doing it any harm. That's the whole point."

No one spoke up to remind her how many times they had been warned that a lot of young Forest Rats did not survive there for very long.

FIFTEEN – WILLOW

The Green wove a pair of soft shoes for Willow, using a heavy kind of reed picked from a stream bank. The shoes were waterproof, and far lighter than her old hillish boots. They gave a better grip on mossy tree roots and slippery rocks and were so soft and warm that she no longer needed socks. She allowed the Green to bury her old boots and holey socks at the foot of a sickly looking dinnet tree. Through tree speaking, she learned there was a large flat stone in the soil, preventing the dinnet roots from growing down. As the wool and boot leather rotted, they might nourish stronger roots, to reach out beyond the stone.

In her forest shoes, Willow found it easy to match her pace to Rock's. He had long since adapted his own city shoes for travelling, padding them inside with green ropevine fibres and pounding niggleseed husks into their soles. Sometimes, he would turn to look at her as they went along. Then she would smile. He usually smiled back. In spite of all the hardship, it was very good indeed to be inside the Forest, at long last.

Each night, however tired they were, they shared love. They slept in the open, kept warm by their thick clothing, a covering of freshly fallen leaves, and one another. Willow grew used to seeing tiny, soft-glowing lights at night. These were made by certain plants and fungi. In some places, even some of the insects could make their own light.

Yet, as the journey continued through the Forest, Willow found herself tree speaking and animal talking less. She very much wanted to get to know every single new plant and creature, but it seemed increasingly tiring to walk and use talent at the same time.

"Did Old Jesty or Yenna ever say anything to you about people getting lost in talent, like Hest said can happen to water readers?" she asked Rock, one day.

They were crossing a stretch of relatively flat, stony ground along the route of a shallow stream. The way was wet, but free from thick vegetation, making it an easy walk. Wildcat and Neamis were a long way ahead. The leading Green were even further on. Hest had dropped back to explore the stream in detail, and Joren had stayed with him.

"No, but I don't think Old Jesty and Yenna had ever been to the Forest." It was obvious Rock knew immediately why she had asked.

"True. Yenna would have told me if they had," she agreed.

"I'm struggling to animal talk sometimes," Rock admitted. "I can do it, but it takes more effort to concentrate on just one creature out of everything that's living here. The black beast was definitely too much. I've been more careful since then, but I wish I could..."

"We'll get better at it," Willow insisted, hearing frustration in his voice and wanting to ease it.

"But... well, it's just... I started out as a Harvester. I was born a Harvester. What if the Forest knows?"

Willow stopped walking to look more carefully at his face. He came to a halt beside her, appearing perfectly serious.

"Rock! Of all the things to worry about. Surely after all this time you don't think that matters. You have a talent. The Forest called to you. None of that could have happened if it mattered who your parents were."

"But you grew up in a village full of talented people. You were trained from birth to know what to do when your talent came in."

"So was my best friend Emmie, but she never grew into a talent. She had to learn how to live without one. Just like you learned to live _with_ one."

"There were other villagers without talents who could teach her. Anyway, I thought you believed everyone's got a talent."

"I do. At least, I do believe everyone _could_ have a talent." It was a subject Willow had often puzzled over, especially during her time in the Spice City. "But not everyone's interested in that part of themselves. I think Emmie just found the talents boring. She was always more interested in learning how to do practical things like growing crops and keeping animals. And no village could manage without people like her, either."

"But people like Stern Greylight aren't bored by talent, they're scared of it."

She considered this, wondering if Stern Greylight's own talent had scared him, more than it had made him feel guilty. Not knowing the answer, she said, instead, "So's Joren. But he's not like Stern Greylight. I'm sure he's not. "

"Well, because of what Stern and the other Harvesters did, I had to grow up with no knowledge of animal talking. What if that means I'm not all that good at it?"

"Rock, you're the strongest animal talker I've ever known. Even Wildcat doesn't animal talk as well as you do, however good she is at understanding the Green."

She expected him to take those words as a compliment, but, instead, he persisted in worrying.

"What if that's only because I don't know how to keep it under control?" he asked. "There's so much life in the Forest and I can't shut it out enough to concentrate properly."

Willow reached out and hugged him, forcing him to stop walking. He stumbled against her, taken by surprise. Pushing away the hair that flopped in front of his eyes, she looked up and held his gaze.

"No," she said. "It's not just you. It's the same for me, and I'm pretty sure it's the same for Wildcat. If it is, she must have asked the Green about it. And if they'd told her anything useful, she'd have passed it on to us. Neamis obviously knew to expect it, but it hasn't hit him as hard. When we get to the Rats, we'll ask them. Lots of them must be tree speakers and animal talkers. I'm sure the Green think we're close to the Rats, now."

Then, turning to walk onward, she admitted, "I was with Wildcat yesterday and we saw a little dusk plant. The first one I've ever seen growing wild. I wanted to tree speak with it, and I'm sure Wildcat did, too. But we both carried on past it. I think we were both too embarrassed to admit how much effort it would take to focus on it."

Willow never got to hear what Rock thought of this, because Neamis called out just then, from somewhere up ahead. He gave warning of a change in direction, away from the stream and up a steep bank.

A few moments later, Willow and Rock began the climb. The bank was thickly grown over with leafless bushes and taller trees. It was quite a struggle to clamber up among them and Willow had no breath for more talking.

It was not until the following evening that she had a chance to speak privately with Wildcat. There were a lot of fallen nuts on the ground. While the others began gathering them up, the two girls chose to get started on the long task of cracking the shells by pounding them with stones. Wildcat still did not use her injured arm much, but she could move it much more comfortably than before. Carefully, Willow asked her if she was yet finding it any easier to use talent inside the Forest.

"No, not at all," Wildcat answered straight away. "It's getting harder, if anything. But I've been training myself to work with it."

"You have? How? Did the Green teach you?"

"No." Wildcat sounded offended. "I worked it out for myself. Try letting the Forest in when you're tree speaking... very, very carefully. Keep control. Don't overdo it or you might get talent-lost."

"Do you think so?"

"The Green do. When they noticed what I was doing, they did give me that warning. And... Neamis. He warned me, too. But if you go slowly, it's all right."

Wildcat could not provide any further information on the subject. Later that same evening, Willow passed on Wildcat's advice to Rock.

"She could have told us before," he grumbled.

From then on, they both tried to do as Wildcat had suggested. They soon found that consciously letting a little of the Forest in was even more exhausting than keeping it out. Especially while continuing to walk through it at the same time. However, Willow did begin to feel stronger when she was tree speaking. Unfortunately, the presence of the harvest became stronger as well.

"Yes, we're nearly there," Rock agreed, when she mentioned it. "Ready?"

"Of course not. I don't want to go closer to the harvest. I wish we could just go deeper inside the Forest instead. But we came to help, didn't we?"

That night, they found themselves a sleeping place quite distant from the others. Behind a long bank formed by old humped-up wrist tree roots, there was an area where over-arching branches had kept the ground dry underneath. It was pleasant and very private. The following morning, Willow came awake at dawn to find Rock was still deeply asleep. Feeling very hungry, she decided to leave him where he was and go looking for something they could eat.

Many plants had already lost their leaves, sinking down into their roots for winter. But most roots would need cooking to make a good breakfast. Willow had not eaten cooked food since all the rations provided by the Wanderers had run out. No one had even suggested building a fire since they had entered the Forest.

Walking a short distance, Willow found billingsberry bushes and plenty of brambles, but animals and birds had eaten all the berries already. She was almost ready to give up the search for food, when she spotted a kind of path. Thickly-growing tendrils of some kind of vine lay over the ground. Intrigued, she went closer and tried _listening_ to the vine.

After only a few more steps, Willow suddenly felt dizzy. Her talent seemed muddled, although not in quite the same way as when the black beast had gone past. Deciding it must just be the effects of hunger, she made an effort to use Wildcat's technique of consciously letting in the Forest.

To her surprise, she then thought she could sense the presence of some kind of edible plant, just ahead. The path of vine tendrils now looked even thicker. Pushing aside some overhanging branches, Willow stepped forward to see a large honeywood tree about ten paces away. It was surrounded by several billingsberry bushes, all loaded with ripe fruit. An acet vine spiralled around the honeywood trunk and dropped down from its lower branches.

Acet seeds were small, but spicy. Forest acet vines had milder seeds than those from the spice lands, but they were still very tasty. It seemed there was a wonderful feast laid out right in front of her.

There was no honeywood smell. But that was probably only because the morning sunlight had not yet reached the tree to warm it. No animals or birds had yet eaten the fruit of the billingsberry bushes, which must have ripened overnight. Willow hurried across more flattened vines towards the honeywood and its companions.

When she was only a couple of paces away from the nearest laden billingsberry branches, something pulled at her from behind. Unable to go on, she found herself hauled suddenly backwards.

"Get off! What...?" she started to say.

Swinging furiously around, Willow found herself face to face with Joren. Some distance behind him, chattering aloud, came three of the Green. They were still running forward, obviously having just arrived.

"Ach! No! You stay right where you are. Don't you move. Not even if ye hear th' black beast coming. Stay still!" Joren was shouting at her. The sound of his voice rang through the trees. He had wrapped his arms firmly around her waist. "What's wrong with yer? Can't ye see it?"

His voice was so insistent, there was no question of not obeying him. Willow stood where she was, staring ahead, although all she could see was the glorious honeywood tree and its attendant plants. She still felt painfully hungry.

"Rock, you stay there!" Joren shouted back over his shoulder. "And you, Hest. Come no closer. We'll come to you."

From somewhere further behind them came Wildcat's voice, "No talents, remember? The Green say not to."

Slowly, Willow realised she could not properly _hear_ these plants at all. Confused, she tried harder to _listen_ to them, in spite of what Wildcat had just said. The effort quickly made her head hurt. Then she could not _hear_ anything, not even the Forest. Her knees suddenly felt weak.

Joren held her upright. Twisting round to look over his shoulder, Willow could no longer see any Green. They must have retreated to be with the others.

"Look," Joren repeated. "With your eyes, not your talent." Willow felt him shift his grip. "Stay back, I said," he addressed someone behind them.

"Oh no!" came Wildcat's voice, just then. "Oh. Look _through_ , Willow. Look past the plants you think you can see."

"Great bulls balls!" That was Rock's voice. "Willow don't move. Really, don't move."

He and Wildcat had obviously disobeyed Joren's instruction not to come any closer.

"Slimevine." Neamis's voice finally spoke the words that allowed Willow to understand. At last, she saw the truth.

There was now a terrible scene, right in front of her, where just a few heartbeats ago she had seen a delicious feast. No longer could Willow see a honeywood with its companion plants. Instead, barely more than one pace from the spot where she stood, was the edge of a very slimy bog. Partly buried in that slime, there was a long-dead person.

No clothes, skin, or even hair, were left to show whether the person had been Green, or Rat, or Harvester. Ribs and long bones poked out of the brownish slime like a broken fence in a flooded field. The bones were darkened with rot, but their shapes were unmistakable. There was even a round island made by the top of the skull. Hundreds of insects were stuck to the surface of the congealing slime.

The sticky pool made a rough circle, surrounding a dead tree that rose high into the forest canopy. Its pale, dry branches were mostly smothered in thick vines of the same plant whose tendrils had made a path for Willow. Those winding up the tree were much thicker. Their leaves changed as they rose higher above the ground, becoming floppy and yellowed.

At the base of the dead tree trunk, the vine's leaf-tips all dripped with some kind of sap. Beneath the main stem of the vine, between exposed roots of the dead tree, puddles of dripping sap had collected and were congealing into slime. It was possible to see sluggish ripples where slime was gradually spreading out around the tree to form the deadly bog. Willow could now smell the thick, rotten stink of the sap and its decaying victims.

"We must leave here," said Neamis urgently. "Do not use talents. Do not try to tree speak to this plant. This is a very big slimevine. Lucky escape. Thank you Joren. Thank you very much."

"How does it kill?" asked Wildcat.

"Turn around. Walk away," Neamis insisted. "Then I will say as we go."

They all did as he instructed. Joren kept hold of Willow's waist until they were well away from the slimevine's tendrils. She was glad of his support. Even without trying to tree speak, she still felt sick and dizzy.

Once they were completely clear, Joren accepted Willow's thanks and let her go to Rock. By then, her head had begun to feel better, although her knees still trembled.

Rock's arms held her up, though he did not seem all that steady, himself. Willow saw how Neamis and Wildcat clutched at one another. They had also been dizzied by the slimevine's effects. Joren now supported Hest, who hid his face in his lover's shoulder. Joren had obviously been the only one not confused by the slimevine. But with one wrong step, he could still have got trapped in its slime pool.

It was not long before Willow heard the Green all chattering out loud. They came into a close circle around the non-green. Several Green then started patting at the arms of the non-green and tugging at their clothing. Obviously, they wanted to move swiftly away from the area.

Wildcat was the first to get going. As soon as she set off, the Green slipped forward of her, leading the way. Letting go of Rock's shoulders, Willow forced her shaky legs to begin walking.

"Even Green are tricked by slimevine," said Neamis, as they all went on. "All talents can be so. Slimevine has bad talent. Uses it to get food. One more step, Willow, for your foot to stick in slime puddle. You would not get out."

"It poisons on contact with skin," Rock added. "I remember hearing that from Wanderers' stories."

In spite of the horror of what had just happened, Willow found herself wishing it had been possible to tree speak with the slimevine. She would have been fascinated to discover more about how the plant fed, and why it needed such an elaborate method of hunting. Like the black beast and the Green, slimevines were talked of in the hills, but more as legends. Not all the hill villagers even seemed to know that such things were actually real. Willow had learned that slimevines could kill, but she had never been told that they attacked by using talent.

As though he could sense her thoughts, Joren tapped her on the shoulder as they walked along.

"Don't think t' reach back with talent," he warned. "I see in your face you want to. Ye look like Hest when there's a bend in a stream that don't make sense to him. Don't try t' find out that way. Wildcat looks t' me to be talkin' with th' Green. Let her explain about the plant if ye want t' know."

Willow knew he was right. She kept an eye on Wildcat, waiting for the moment her posture changed.

"What do they say?" she called out, as soon as she thought Wildcat would pay attention.

"They say it's usually small animals and insects that slimevines catch," Wildcat explained. Her pace had not changed, but she moved with less care, now she was no longer _listening_ to the Green. "But the really big, really old vines know how to fool people with talents. They can make you see what they want you to see, instead of what's really there. It's hard work for the vine, but if a person or a big animal gets stuck in the slime pool, that's a lot of seasons' worth of food for the plant."

"Just like my boots rotting under the dinnet tree," said Willow. In spite of her interest in the strange plant, she had begun to feel sick again.

Rock took hold of her hand then. With a shock, she realised he was trembling.

Everyone made their way onwards as fast as possible. Willow no longer had any thought of finding breakfast. Then, some time around noon, she began to notice that the Green seemed excited. They were now some way ahead, with Wildcat and Neamis not far behind them.

"There are people near here," Rock said, all of a sudden. He had continued to keep very close to Willow, though holding hands had now become impossible. They were climbing among stones and knobbly roots. The ground was so uneven, Willow kept having to steady herself by grasping at tree trunks and branches.

"Friendly people?" she asked.

"I don't know."

Then he called out to warn everyone.

"The Green have stopped moving!" Wildcat called back. "Come on!"

It took some time to catch up with the leading pair of Green, who waited under the spreading branches of an old, completely circular tree. Its drooping branches touched the forest floor.

"Let me look around first, Wildcat," Joren said, breathing hard. They had all been travelling at a fast pace. Joren began to walk the circumference of the tree, staring out into the surrounding Forest.

Wildcat glared at him. The two Green appeared perfectly relaxed. When all of the non-green were gathered under the tree, the Green pair slipped away. They had presumably joined the rest of their group somewhere close by.

Willow was suddenly distracted by pull on her talent. This time, the Forest was still in her background awareness and she did not feel dizzy. But she did feel hungry, and something was definitely suggesting there was food a short distance away.

"Not again. Not another one," she moaned aloud.

"What? I don't feel anyth... oh, yes I do," Rock said. "You think that's another slimevine?"

"I think I feel someone new," said Hest.

"I don't think..." Wildcat started to say.

Just then, both Rock and Joren shouted out at the same time. Three strangers stepped through the low-hanging branches of the tree.

One of the strangers was naked and had small patches of green on his skin and in his long fair hair. The other two were women, dressed in thick, brown-dyed cloth, reinforced with woven strips of some kind of plant around their arms, legs and waists. Various carrying pouches hung from the women's' belts, although the man carried nothing.

The greenish man spoke out loud. "We've been looking for you. Did you hear our rat-call? We are Forest Rats. We brought food."

"Rat-call?" Wildcat repeated.

"Ah, clearly you didn't hear it. Time for explaining that later. But some of you are the ones Flight far-talked to us about? You've come with the Green you set free in the city? Yet I don't think any of you are Flight. And we have not heard from her in a long time."

Willow thought he looked straight at Neamis as he spoke.

"Time for that news later on as well," the man went on.

Willow found it impossible not to stare at his naked, partly-green skin. She found herself remembering a boy named Flax in her home village. Flax and his older brother Guern had claimed their father had been part-green.

"My name is Merel," said the green Rat standing before her. Then he extended his arms, indicating the women beside him. "These are Spider and Durnas."

Durnas was older and taller, with a touch of grey in her brown hair. Her smile of greeting creased the edges of her eyes. Spider, the younger woman, had black curly hair and very dark eyes. She did not smile.

"Merel was living-partner to a Green woman," explained Spider, before anyone had even asked about his appearance. "Harvesters killed her. Two summers ago. They caught her trying to pull a live slevit cub out of a wagon."

Willow shuddered. Slevit furs were sold in the Spice City for high prices. Whoever now wore that fur might not even realise that two lives, not coin, had been its true cost.

"I'm part-green and all Rat, now," said Merel. Only his eyes showed pain.

Spider and Durnas shared out pouches of shelled nuts, dried berries, and little soft grain balls. The grains were swelled from being soaked in water, and flavoured with mint. Willow had not known there were grains to be found in the Forest. She asked the women about them.

"We call them sun-grasses," Durnas, the older woman, explained. "A tree falls in a winter storm. Next summer, old grains long buried – or maybe carried by mice – they grow into the light. A big patch of sun-grasses in such a place is watched until the grains are ripe, then picked, dried, stored."

"Worth all our effort?" Spider had been watching as Willow chewed.

"Oh yes," Willow agreed, smiling to indicate how much she appreciated it. She was not sure if Spider resented sharing the food.

While the Rats had been introducing themselves underneath the circle of drooping branches, the Green must have been foraging in the area around it. Now, they came to eat what they had found, just outside the screen of leaves. Willow saw Merel go over to one of their children, who did not seem to mind at all. Helping himself to a couple of root nuts from a pile the child had collected, Merel looked towards Willow.

"Tree speaker, me," he commented. "I do ask the food's permission before I eat, like all Green. But with animals and insects, I don't always understand the answers."

Wildcat was observing him, too. "Are there many part-green?" she asked.

Immediately, Willow looked towards Neamis. The wanderer boy showed no sign of being worried that Wildcat might want a Green lover.

"Don't know," Merel replied. "I'm the only one round here."

"So, how many Rats are there?" asked Rock. "Round here and in the whole Forest? From that thing you called a rat-call, I assume you have your own ways of staying in touch, and they're not the same as what Flight could do."

Merel did not offer any further explanation of the rat-call. Instead, he replied, "How many? Not enough. Many small gatherings, like us. There have been fifteen here at Tall Trees Side. Today, with you, there will be twenty-one. In winter, some who work elsewhere will return here. And there are other groups, by other sections of the harvest edge. The numbers change. Rats die. New Rats arrive, like you. But there are not enough. No, not yet."

"We are here, Merel. We may not be enough, but we are something," said Durnas. Her voice was low and gentle. "The Harvesters are wrong. One way or another, the harvest of the Forest will come to an end."

She looked towards Rock. "So, animal talker, yes? And between the six of you there are three animal talkers, three tree speakers, a stone listener, a water reader and a silent talent. I see from your eyes that our friend Flight is gone. I mourn with you."

Willow noticed the slight movement of Neamis's head as he looked down at the ground in acknowledgement. They all let the quiet pause speak for them.

Slowly, Willow took in the sense of the rest of what Durnas had said. The Rat woman had been counting talents, not people.

"A silent talent?" she then asked, softly, looking sideways towards Joren.

He raised his eyebrows, obviously never having heard of it either.

"It's a good way of putting it," said Hest. "Joren was the only one of us to see that slimevine for what it really was. If that's not a talent, I don't know what is."

Spider stood with her feet wide and her hands on her hips. "Yes," she replied, sharply. "And if you're a Rat who hasn't died yet, you're with us, talent or not." Addressing Joren, she asked, "Are you also a good maker?"

"Maker?" Joren sounded confused.

"Good at making things? Designing tools, building hinges for doors to cover food caches, hoists to carry things up to tree-tops, little gadgets to stop the Harvesters' machines from working. That kind of thing."

"Ah, no. For those kinds of skills ye'd want my brother, Slick Eel," Joren replied. "He's that kind o' clever. But not me."

Willow noticed an odd look cross Joren's face as he spoke. She wondered if Joren had feared his brother, Slick Eel.

"I c'n carve fishes, or people, or animals... in a scrap o' wood," Joren added.

But Spider was obviously disappointed. "Oh," she said. "Never mind."

"Spider is a silent one," said Durnas, "meaning she has to speak aloud if she wants us to hear. She is also extremely good at designing and building things." Her tone of voice suggested that this was an apology for Spider's bluntness, as well as praise for her abilities.

Willow had been considering this new concept of a silent talent.

"Joren!" she cried out, suddenly. "I didn't even think before. This morning, when I went off on my own and the slimevine tricked me, you came after me with the Green. How did you know where I was?"

"I... I was called by them Green," Joren said slowly. "They just made it clear to me what to do, told me I had to go after yer 'cause ye'd got yerself in trouble. They... they all made noises and waved their hands and they made me understand. I c'n read faces. The Green're not that different to all people in they way their faces speak. Then I told Hest, who woke Rock. And Wildcat n' Neamis followed on. But you're right. It were me th' Green wanted, I guess because of that slimevine."

He sounded very proud of himself all of a sudden.

"Just because a person don't speak your language, don't mean you can't understand each other, eh?" Merel commented.

"No, for sure," Neamis agreed.

"No, no it salted don't." Joren looked astounded, as if he was only now taking in the full impact of what had happened earlier.

"I knew you were close by, as soon as our Green noticed your Green coming. But it was Spider who brought Durnas," Merel went on. "Spider was by our Green's favourite drinking hole this morning, just about when the slimevine tried to eat your tree speaker."

"That I was," said Spider. "Our Green made it very clear to me that something was up and a silent one might be required. They don't speak inside my head, mind. Now, I see how I was too far away to get you out of trouble. Seems your own silent one managed to cope on his own. I met with Durnas and Merel. We came to find you."

" _Your_ Green?"

"Are they here?"

Willow and Wildcat spoke out at the same moment. They exchanged a glance. Willow had not sensed any other Green nearby. Nor had their own Green friends given her the slightest hint they had known of any. From the look on Wildcat's face, they had not informed her, either.

"Not right here, but close enough for us to stay in touch with," was Merel's reply.

Willow opened her mouth to ask more. But then Durnas came up and prodded her in the chest with one finger.

"This one deserves a slow afternoon," the Rat said. "She was nearly eaten by the biggest slimevine any of us knows. Caught up in its lie-cloud."

"So how?..." Willow started to ask.

"Green. Our Green heard it from your Green." Durnas replied before Willow had finished asking the question.

"They didn't even tell us they'd spoken to other Green!" Wildcat burst out, sounding both annoyed and hurt.

Merel chuckled, in response. Then, after Wildcat had glared at him for a few moments, he explained. "They probably saw no need to tell you. They knew you'd find out from us. Your Green were trying to bring you to us. You know that, don't you? So rescuing your friend from a slimevine was much more important than bothering you with things you'd soon find out for yourselves. Green don't gossip. You must already know that. They only tell you what they think you need to know."

Durnas had not stepped away from Willow. "Somehow it happened that your Green got a little lost, I think," she said. "Surprising that they let you get anywhere near the slimevine. A lie-cloud can leave you feeling weak for a short while. But you can still help me n' Spider with the food stores. Snow's coming. Merel will bed down with the Green, but us outside are going to need plenty of stored food to last us 'till spring."

"These new talents can help us forage as we go," said Spider, in agreement. "Or they can work silent if they need a rest after the slimevine."

"Harvesters haven't gone home yet," said Merel. "I'm for doing a little more of what we're all here for. I'll be going to the edge of the harvest today."

Willow realised he was looking closely at Rock.

"Want to see it?" asked the Green man. "Think you're recovered enough for that?"

"Just me?" Rock glanced towards Wildcat as he spoke.

"Just you for today. First sight of the harvest is never easy for anyone. If there's only one of you with me, I can watch over you properly."

"But..." Wildcat started to speak. Willow thought she was going to argue with Merel. Then Wildcat frowned, suddenly. "I'll be with the Green," she said, mildly. Clearly, the Green had just requested her company.

Willow stared at Rock. She did not like the idea of him going straight into danger without her. Yet, she did still feel tired and dizzy. Rock's expression was serious, but it was obvious he wanted to go with Merel. Their eyes met, and she said nothing out loud.

"I'll bring him back to you by sunset," Merel said, addressing Willow directly. Then he turned to face Wildcat. "And you'll rest that shoulder. The Green tell you so. You should listen."

Wildcat let out an angry breath and pushed her way out of the sheltering branches. Willow assumed she would join her Green friends somewhere nearby. After a slight pause, Neamis set off, following Wildcat.

Lowering his voice, Merel spoke to everyone who remained. "The Wanderer boy is needed to stay by her side and make sure she does rest. The Green will watch over them both. Now, the silent one, the water reader and the tree speaker can be a great help to Spider and Durnas as they gather food stores. All of you will get to see the harvest soon enough."

SIXTEEN – ROCK

Merel set a fast pace. Rock followed him straight through a patch of wrist trees and creepvine. The two plants growing together made a thick tangle of sharply angled branches and trailing tendrils. Rock walked with both arms held in front of his face. Merel then led him over a mound with a homewood tree growing at the top, and along a trail of flattened undergrowth. Here, a faint animal smell rose from the vegetation on either side.

"Wolf," Rock said aloud.

"And many others before that," his guide replied. "One animal makes a trail, going for water every day, or checking on their territory. Others soon make use of it, too. Including us. This one should lead us to a wolf-Rat."

Intrigued, Rock tried expanding his talent as he went along, guessing that Merel was somehow able to warn this other Rat about their approach.

"Yes," said Merel, turning to look back over his shoulder. "Talented Rats don't always talk out loud. Like the Green, though not the same. Like talent, though not the same. Takes practise. And it's hard work when you're not used to Forest. Garnet is waiting up ahead. No need to reach for her."

Rock stopped animal talking, feeling slightly embarrassed. Wanting to change the subject quickly, he asked, "Will you really sleep with the Green all through winter, Merel?"

"Yes. The touch of fur, skin heat. I prefer it to being out here in the cold." Merel did not seem at all surprised by the question.

Rock was about to ask more – especially about the use of dusk – but then Merel suddenly bent down, twisting over to one side. Moving his head in an arc, he sniffed the circumference of a round gap in the undergrowth.

"Follow me," he said. Then he crawled into the gap.

The tunnel opened into a small clearing. There was a sound of trickling water from somewhere nearby.

A woman of around Rock's own age stood there, looking back at him. She wore strips of cured wolf skin around her chest, belly, arms and legs. He thought her strong smell was probably only partly the result of her clothing. The woman's eyes glittered as she very deliberately looked him up and down.

"New to Forest," she observed. Her voice was powerful, yet not loud.

Raising her arms to place a hand on each of Rock's shoulders, she began swaying her hips from side to side.

"I like you," she said, not looking at his face.

Taken aback, yet not wanting to appear rude, Rock attempted to keep his posture relaxed.

"No time for that," said Merel, coming to his rescue. "This one calls himself Rock. We go around the harvest today. Just greeting you, since we're passing. And the new Green say Rock is already paired."

The wolf-like woman sighed, dropping her hands from Rock's shoulders. "Another paired man. Merel even stays paired to a dead woman. It's all right, lovely Rock, I'm not going to fight your mate to get you."

She smiled again, in a way that made Rock very glad he was not naked like Merel.

"I like you," he told her. "I won't join you in love-play, but that doesn't mean it's not nice to be asked."

He was trying to be honest, as she had been to him.

Once, he might have considered having more than one lover at the same time. In the marshes, not very long ago, he had been in love with Kezzy. Yet, even then, he had also been attracted to Willow.

Now, though, he could not imagine loving anyone in that way except for Willow. And he knew he would be furiously jealous if she were to love-play with anyone else except him.

"You're Garnet?" he asked the wolf woman.

"Yes, that's my name," she replied. "Good to see you Rock. Speak to me often when you learn how."

"Did you kill a wolf for your clothing?"

"I did not." She pulled at one of the furry coverings and almost snapped her teeth together to give emphasis. "Harvesters kill wolves. Not I. I stole some dead wolves back from a harvest run. Very dangerous." Her smile showed all her teeth.

"You may drink at this stream," she said next. "The water is safe and clear. No deadly residents. No dirty harvest run-off."

Rock and Merel accepted Garnet's invitation to drink. After thanking her, they then went on towards the harvest.

"You'll need to be strong," Merel warned. "Prepare now. You must be ready to draw talent back or let it explore, any instant. Understand?"

"I do."

The pain of the Forest was the cry of dying things as they were harvested, heard by anyone with talent. And, as Rock and Willow had already noticed, it was different now they were inside the Forest. The location of the harvest was now clearer. Now, Rock felt it as somehow apart from the rest of the Forest, and the pain of it was far stronger.

Every animal talker had to learn how to bear the experience of another creature's pain. Willow's grandmother, Yenna, and her friend Old Jesty, had taught Rock how to keep himself separate from what he was _hearing_. Without their help, he thought he would have gone mad.

With an effort, he now closed his mind to the harvest.

Merel led the way to a hollow tree where three more Rats stood waiting. These three wore the usual clothing of hill villagers, except for some odd bone carvings swinging from the collars of their jackets. Like Garnet, they all had long untidy hair, obviously left uncombed and untrimmed for many seasons. Two were men, whose uncut beards matched their hair.

"Welcome, Green-rescuer from the city," said the oldest of the men. He was small, with very bright eyes.

The other man and the woman were both taller. He was brown haired and she was fair.

"These are Wood Wasp, Bee and Hornet," Merel introduced them. "We're not far from harvest now. These Rats are animal talkers, like you. Their work is to try and warn creatures of what's coming for them, telling them which direction to flee."

"Dangerous work if Harvesters find out," Rock commented, thinking back to the fight on the Great Forest Road.

"Yes," agreed the woman, Hornet. "Dangerous and exhausting, it is. We've done our share for today. We were heading away from the harvest edge to take a break from it. But we've waited here to greet you first. We wanted to get a first sight of you."

"You scared, city boy?" the brown haired man asked Rock. "'Cause you should be."

"We're all scared, Bee, if we're honest about it," said Merel. "Harvest workers are violent. And scared, themselves." Lowering his head and speaking quietly to Rock, he added, "Bee is the one of us who most often far-talked with Flight. He already knows that she did not make it. Later, I hope the Wanderer, Neamis, will speak with him about her."

"I'm sure he would be glad to," Rock answered. Looking at Bee directly, he added, "I never had a chance to get to know Flight very well, but I liked her. She died defending the Green."

Bee nodded, once.

Wood Wasp, the older man, spoke next. "So you come here new, from the Spice City, eh? Well then. Let us learn from you and you learn from us. Try and survive 'till spring. Think. Share. Next summer, who knows. We'll see."

Then Merel addressed Hornet as if continuing a conversation from earlier on. "So you still say we're safe to take the dark track on to harvest hill?"

"Aye," the younger Rat replied. "Harvesters took a great drag net down the hill soon after dawn. Now they've moved on to the level place by the road. They'll probably come back to harvest hill later, but they'll not be doing that today."

"Share these spill nuts if you like, before you go," offered Bee. His tone was no longer aggressive.

He handed out a small pile of spill nuts to each of them. Rock was not all that hungry. The pain of the harvest battered at him, however much he tried to fend it off. He ate his share of nuts anyway.

"I want to work when I get there. Can I ?" Rock asked, addressing the three animal talkers.

"You will," Hornet answered. "Don't try too hard, too soon. Don't want you fried."

She must have noticed Rock looking puzzled. "Fried means talent-lost," she explained. "I hear you've already got too close to a black beast and a slimevine. Getting fried is a lot worse than that."

News obviously travelled very fast among these people. Wood Wasp patted Rock on the shoulder. Then the older man addressed Merel. "You and the Green should make sure your winter homes are built real snug before you go to sleep, Merel. Once harvest cuts into the territory of a black beast, none of us can be sure what that poor animal might do."

"I take your warning, Wood Wasp," Merel replied. "Though I doubt the harvest'll spread further before spring. And the black beasts will all be sleeping through winter, just as I will. Now then, Rock. We'll go on. "

"Look out for the yellow-tail squirrels while you're close to the harvest," Bee advised, speaking directly to Rock. "We warn them to leave the area every single day, but their memories are short. They go back again the moment they stop hearing the sound of the men and the machines. If you get the chance, just remind 'em of the danger."

Rock promised to do so. Then he followed Merel into a narrow trail leading away from the other Rats. Soon they were both hunched low, pushing through a dark tunnel of thickly-growing leaves.

"We'll go right up to the edge, so you'll have your first sight of it with your own eyes," said Merel. "If you can take that, then we'll go some way close to Tall Trees Side and do some rat-work."

Not long afterwards, they came to the edge of a harvested area. Rock could feel its nearness long before he was actually able to see it. They walked through deep shadow, under trees with a thick understory of shrubs, vines and low growing plants. Then, all of a sudden, they stepped out onto churned up soil.

Rock stared out at a place almost empty of plants. Dead twigs and leaves were scattered everywhere. Bright sunshine stung his eyes. He shaded his face with one hand. The shallow hillside rose before him, completely emptied of most of the Forest that had once covered it.

The stumps of the largest felled trees remained. In some places, deep pits in the soil marked where even the stumps and roots of some of the smaller trees had been dug out. Rock knew these would be sold in the Spice City for firewood.

Holes with drag-scars leading away from them indicated the removal of large stones. Wheel tracks and animal dung showed where the wagons must have parked. The remains of some campfires still smouldered.

"First harvest," explained Merel. "They take herbs and other small plants, and whatever animals and birds they can catch. Then they take the trees, then rocks, then anything they want from where the trees used to be. Second harvest's when they take all that's left after that – soil, small stones, more roots, more herbs, more birds. Third harvest's just the clean-up team going over the deadland, looking for anything the others missed. Second and third harvest here will come in the spring."

Rock thought back to the clean-up team that had bothered the Wanderers on the Great Forest Road. Yet again, he wondered how that team had managed to get themselves a crewel tree, roots and all.

As he watched, a group of little brown birds flew out of the unharvested forest into some churned-up earth. After pecking at a few dried-up twigs lying on the ground, chirping to one another, they soon flew back into the Forest. The few low plants that remained to be harvested did not give them much cover. The birds were unhappy in the open, exposed to any nearby predators.

Very carefully letting his talent expand, yet keeping tight control, Rock scanned the area. To his surprise, a great many living things still remained. He came across mice, shrews and voles, worms, ants and spiders. There were a family of foxes and a memikit pair somewhere, but they probably hid at the unharvested edge of the Forest. Many other creatures in the deadland were so small he could never observe them using only his eyes. For a few moments he _listened_ to these tiny creatures, both animal talking and tree speaking at the same time.

As Bee had predicted, there were several yellow-tailed squirrels sniffing around the margins of the harvest. Talking to them individually was less tiring than reaching out to all the little creatures in the soil. Rock did his best to persuade each of the bewildered squirrels to flee. Meanwhile, Merel began to scrape up piles of broken earth. This he then heaped around the roots of some of the plants still alive at the harvest's edge. Rock hoped it would be enough to protect them from the frosts of winter. Several times, he had to sternly warn away squirrels who wanted to dig through Merel's careful work.

He soon needed a rest from animal talking. Staring out at the long stretch of ruined forest, he spent a while just taking in the whole ugly scene. At the most distant edge of the devastation, there was a darker line he guessed must be a road. A large number of people had obviously worked for a long time in order to create this mess.

Merel came to stand at Rock's side. Together, they studied the damage for a while, in silence.

Eventually, Rock spoke some of his thoughts out loud. "Most Harvesters don't know about the pain they're causing," he commented. "They don't feel it from the Forest. And they don't even understand how much the harvest messes things up all over the place, not just here. If we could get them to listen... to understand. Would they stop this?"

"Perhaps," Merel answered. "What about the Harvesters that do know?"

It was as if the naked, part-green man had located the very centre of Rock's concern. Stern Greylight was definitely one such Harvester. Capability Reader was probably another. Against them, he felt powerless. They had successfully deceived him throughout his whole childhood.

"So what can we do to stop this?" he said, bitterly. "Do we arm ourselves and fight them? Force them to do what we want because we say so? That makes us just as bad as they are, doesn't it?"

"What the Rats in this part of the Forest have agreed," Merel answered quietly, "is that it would be a good thing to try and reach the Harvesters who _don't_ already know what they're causing. Those Harvesters are only trying to survive, working for coin. They are ignorant. And they should be told how the harvest can cause flood or drought. They should know how soon rare forest trees will all be gone forever if the harvest continues. They should learn that distant rivers are filling up with silt, now that forest has been taken away. Silt that reaches as far as the marshes, changing them enough to cause the biggest swamp fever outbreak anyone can remember."

"You knew about that?"

"Oh yes. Our Wanderer friend, Flight, often passed on such news. Wanderers pick up all kinds of gossip on their travels."

Merel stared away into the trees of the remaining Forest for a few moments.

"So young, to be already gone," he then went on. "I had hoped to see Flight again. I met her when she first came here, but I was not one of those who far-talked with her afterwards. The Green liked Flight. They said Forest had spoken to her when she came inside it as a young child, with her Wanderers."

"The Green said that?" asked Rock, intrigued. He wondered if Neamis had already known this.

"So they have told me, yes."

Merel was shaking his head. Abruptly, he returned to the subject of the Harvesters. "The thing is," he said, "Most harvest workers _don't_ know about the effects of the harvest on other places. We Rats think they should be told, and we will find a way to do it. Does that give you some hope?"

Rock was not sure. "Perhaps," was all he could reply.

He remembered Syme Deadlander and his troupe of drummers from the Bees' Nest. They had tried, time after time, to educate city people about the harm that was being done by the harvest. Few city workers had listened. Fewer still had believed what they heard. Rock's fear was that most city-dwellers would rather ignore the truth than turn away from a source of coin.

Merel glanced up, checking the position of the sun. "Enough time before dark to watch the harvest as it happens. It will be hard. Will you come?"

It had been hard this far, but Rock was determined to continue. When these Harvesters left, no more of them would come until spring. If he was going to help plan a way of stopping them, it would be useful to see them at work.

Following the edge of the harvest scar was much faster than walking through living forest. When the sounds of working machinery began to reach them, Rock and Merel slipped under tree cover once more. Merel led the way to one particular tall tree, still living in deeper forest.

The base of the tree trunk appeared to be surrounded by densely growing thorn creepers. However, Merel went directly to a sapling that protruded from the mat of thorns. Reaching down beside the sapling's thin stem, he retrieved a plaited rope of vines that had been concealed there. With a few tugs, he pulled away a woven mat on which some of the thorn vines had only been resting. A narrow pathway was revealed, leading to the base of the tall tree.

"Now we climb," he said.

Close to the tree, Rock saw how a second vine rope had been tied to a thick branch above his head. This rope had knots spaced along it. The whole arrangement had been well hidden. The ground cover of thorn vine would prevent anyone going near the trunk by accident. And the climbing rope was not visible from further away.

Merel took hold of the climbing rope and put a bare foot on the bark of the tree trunk. When he hauled himself up, he appeared to walk up the trunk. Then he disappeared into the leafy branches. Rock followed, with far more difficulty. As he went, he thought of Wildcat. No wonder the Green had prevented her from coming along. Before she had been stabbed, she would have climbed just as easily as Merel. Having to attempt it now would probably make her very cross, indeed.

Rock finally reached a narrow platform concealed among the browning leaves. It was constructed out of sound deadwood, lashed onto living branches with vine ropes. Seated there beside Merel, he got a clear view over the top of a lot of lower trees. Risking a small use of his limited tree speaking ability, Rock thanked the tree for its support. Then he settled down for a long look at the harvest in progress.

This last harvest run was a big one. He could just make out the wagons, along with the oxen and horses needed to pull them. After reaching a total of thirty wagons, he stopped counting them. They were spread out along a wide strip of cleared, levelled land. It was a road that must lead to the one he had seen earlier. That one might even have been the Great Forest Road. If not, it would certainly link up with it somewhere.

Large trees had already been removed from the harvested area. Some of the wagons must be packed full with timber. Others would be empty, ready for loading. There were harvesting machines working in one part of the cleared space. Closer to the forest edge, teams of harvest workers moved in long lines. Rock could see how they gathered up every plant they came across. They carried tools of some kind, for digging into the soil. Large collecting baskets were strapped to their shoulders.

Living forest plants covered the ground ahead of each line of people. Behind, there was empty, churned-up earth. More teams of harvest workers came after the first. These people appeared to be watching for creatures to come running out from under cover as the plants were disturbed. Rock made an effort to shut off his talent from the terrified animals. It was very hard not to shut his eyes, as well.

Yet more teams of workers gathered in one place. They looked like they were skinning animal carcasses, then throwing skins into huge baskets. The meat was just piled up on the ground. Black swarms of happy blow-flies rose from the piles.

Rock knew that Wildcat had once been inside a city spice warehouse converted for processing animal harvest. Afterwards, when he met her at the Bees' Nest, she had told him about it. Her description of the place had included whole carcasses and all kinds of butchered animal parts. Yet here, only skins appeared to be collected for the wagons. Confused, he eventually spotted what he had not noticed at first. Behind one of the wagons on the distant road, there appeared to be some sort of animal pen.

It was not an enclosure for the Harvesters' oxen or horses. By risking a quick burst of talent, he found wild animals in there, mostly deer. With a longer sweep of talent, he found a number of similar pens in the vicinity of the harvest wagons. All of them contained trapped forest animals. In one, there were two wolves. In others, he sensed wildcats, large birds, some tree bears and a number of kinds of forest animals he had met but not learned names for.

He drew back from them quickly, letting out a sharp breath. Merel laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Cages," Rock explained. Now that he knew they were there, the faint calls of trapped creatures in distress reached his ears. The sounds were carried on the wind, fading out again the moment it dropped away.

"Ah, yes." Merel spoke slowly. "They keep some animals alive, at first. For meat, or other fresh parts. We Rats try to let them out, of course. But Harvesters keep watch. Even when we do set the animals free, they don't always survive. All the Forest they had lived in before is gone. They are often too shocked to stay alive for long."

"Harvest workers guard the pens?"

"All day and all night. They see it as guarding their coin."

"I expect they'll kill to keep it."

"Yes. They do. My Green lover wanted to help me in my rat-work. Now I am here and she is not. Do you still want to be a Rat?"

Rock thought carefully before answering the green man. "I don't _want_ to," he said at last. "I _have_ to. I'll do it because it's got to be done. Because it's the right thing to do."

Merel gave him a gentle smile. "Nobody has to do this. You choose. We all do. And we hope it's the right thing, yes. But the risk of being wrong is our own, nobody else's."

For an instant, Rock thought about Joren's choice not to have talent.

"I choose to be a Rat, then," he said.

"So, time for a bit of rat-work," suggested Merel. "I think there are some pack-grannels coming this way. They're probably curious about the smell. My animal talking's weak. I felt them, but I can't speak to them well. Can you warn them off?"

Obediently, Rock opened up his talent once more. He soon located the pack-grannels. They were still distant, but coming closer. In fact, he was rather surprised at how easy it was _talking_ with them over such a distance.

Rock poured all his own horror at what the Harvesters were doing into his urgent communication with the animals. The smell of fresh meat was a trap, he explained. The other scent that went along with it, of men and things unknown to the pack, should be remembered as a warning. He tried to impress upon the pack-grannels that they should always, always, run in the opposite direction when they came across any other scent like it.

The pack understood him. They were soon gone. Before Rock could use his talent to search for other predators attracted by the scent of the harvest, Merel spoke aloud.

"No more just now. Take a rest. Use only your eyes for a time."

As soon as Rock drew in his talent, he understood Merel's caution. It was only when he had properly returned to himself that he felt the full impact of the work he had done. Focussed on the task, he had hardly been aware of the effort it had taken to block out the rest of the forest and the harvest in order to reach the pack-grannels. Now he felt desperately tired. His head ached and he wanted to lie down.

Instead, he braced his hands against the wood of the tree platform and shifted his weight. He decided to take a more careful look at the harvesting machines. In the city, Rock had heard of soil dredgers and net-pullers. These were the first he had ever been able to see in action.

Hauled along by oxen, the machines ripped into Forest, collecting up stones, soil, plants, animals, insects and other creatures, all at once. The noise they made while moving was like a winter storm. However, the machines kept stopping, snared around tree stumps or boulders. Each time this happened, harvest workers had to get them free them before they could move on.

In spite of all the stops and starts, it was clear that the machines were destroying forest faster than any number of workers could manage with hand tools. Rock made an effort to fix the terrible sight clearly in his memory, together with the sounds and the smell. In future, he intended to use those memories to warn living animals to stay away from the harvest edge.

He watched for as long as he could bear it, then closed his eyes. An instant later, he was surprised by a much older memory. One he would have preferred never to think of again.

It was of the night he had first discovered his talent, alone in his parents' house in the Spice City. His father, Capability Reader, had been proud. Theirs was the first house on the street to have rat-killers come and put down poisoned bait. And Rock had not cared much, one way or the other. He had never considered rats to be anything but an irritating nuisance.

That night, in the gap between the double wooden sections of his bedroom wall, whole families of rats had died slowly and painfully. Something about their closeness, or their pain, had triggered Rock to come into his talent all at once. He had screamed with those rats as they died.

For a few moments, Rock found himself caught up in that memory. And while he was remembering, the pain of the Forest seeped past his defences. He felt it merge with those dying rats from long ago.

"Enough! "Rock!" Merel's voice came sharply to his ears.

Rock opened his eyes, realising that the green Rat had been calling his name several times. In the memory, his name had been different. Rock was the new name he had given himself afterwards, in an attempt to make himself feel safe.

"You're not used to Forest yet, let alone harvest." Merel placed both hands on his shoulders. "Let's go down. We should leave this place for now."

With barely enough strength left to follow the green Rat to the ground, there was no way Rock could object. When they reached the foot of the tree, he helped Merel replace the thorn creepers to hide the climbing rope.

"I thought..." he started to say.

Merel cut him off, laying his hand on his shoulder. "That you'd get more action? You imagined yourself raiding those wagons and stealing the harvest back? Or sneaking out to those machines at night and smashing them to bits? Tipping sacks of bog water over the Harvesters' food supplies? Setting alight their stores of lamp oil?"

It was not exactly what Rock had imagined, but it was close, he had to admit.

"Some Rat, somewhere, has already tried all of those things," said Merel. "And a lot of those Rats are now dead. Harvesters fight back. And they guard all their supplies and equipment night and day."

"We have talents," said Rock, stubbornly. "They don't. Surely..."

"We do what we can," Merel interrupted him again. "As you have done this day. But – as you are now feeling – using talent for long inside Forest isn't easy, especially this close to a harvest. Why do you think I introduced you to Garnet and those other three first? I wanted you to see those Rats when they are not in the middle of the action. Those four Rats are alive. Many who come here don't last as long as they have."

"I see... I think." Rock did not argue any more. For one thing, he was too tired.

Wearily following Merel away from the harvest boundary, he considered Joren's choice to become what Spider had called 'silent'. Rock wondered what he would have chosen for himself if he had known such a choice was possible.

SEVENTEEN – WILLOW

Close to dusk, Wildcat and Neamis returned to join the other Rats. They shared some exciting news with Willow and the rest. Then, shortly afterwards, Merel arrived with Rock.

Catching sight of Rock's face, Willow instantly decided that the news could wait. As she laid both hands on his arms, she could feel him trembling.

"Bad," he told her, answering the question she had not needed to ask.

Willow held on to both Rock's hands and pressed herself close against him. They remained a little apart from the others. He stood silently, breathing slowly.

Waiting for him to recover, Willow listened to snatches of conversation from the others.

"Felt something from those new Green all day," Merel was saying. "I didn't stop to find out what. Too caught up in checking the harvest. So, they're making a home for themselves already, are they? That's good. They'll have to work fast. No tame black beasts near here to help them. But they only need to make a home for this one winter. No Green'll be safe this close to the harvest by next summer, the way harvest is spreading."

"The new Green are welcome here," added Durnas. "Our Green are content for now. If they weren't, you'd soon know, Merel."

The next few exchanges were too quiet for Willow to hear. Then Wildcat's excited voice joined in. One phrase carried clearly, "Skin dance." The rest of her speech was drowned out, as a sudden gust of wind rattled the dying leaves on the surrounding trees.

Rock stirred at last. "Skin dance?" he asked.

"It's the Green... our Green, the rescued ones," Willow explained. "I still can't understand them like Wildcat, but I got it when they invited us to join them."

"What?"

She stroked his arms, soothingly. He was still as jumpy as a frightened animal.

"They're going to skin dance tonight. And, if we want to, we can join them. They probably didn't directly ask you because you were busy with Merel and they knew I'd tell you later on. They're inviting you, me, Wildcat, Neamis, Hest and Joren. Not the other Rats. Wildcat says the dance is to do with the building of the Green's winter home. She calls it a 'greenhome'."

"Uh."

"She says the skin dance will let the place know what they're going to do, so they fit in there," Willow continued. "And there's something... I didn't really understand, but it's to do with keeping them safe from predators while they sleep. But you're exhausted. Maybe you shouldn't..."

"A Green skin dance? Of course I should. We might never be offered another chance."

They both fell silent. It was generally acknowledged that all skin dances were originally inspired by those of the Green. He was right, it would be stupid to turn down a chance to join in. And yet, she was worried for him.

Willow had been chatting with Durnas all afternoon. Once, she happened to mention that a man called Guern had left her home village, perhaps to come to the Forest. He and his brother Flax had always claimed to be part-green. To Willow's surprise, Durnas had recognised the name and claimed to have met Guern. Though she did not remember him saying anything about looking for his father, which was why Willow had been told Guern had first left Warner.

"Yes, I remember he came from the hills. It was three summers back," the older woman had said. "He was close to the Green very fast. Like your friend Wildcat. Like Merel. Well, he could have become like Merel. But he got fried. Forest-lost, like far too many."

Durnas had then explained what it meant to be forest-lost. Not killed by forest diseases, poisonous plants or predatory animals, although all of those things also happened to Rats. Forest-lost, or fried, meant to be lost in talent.

It had not been hard to imagine how such a thing was possible. The longer she had been inside the Forest, the harder Willow had been finding it to keep her own thoughts apart from those she picked up through talent, from of all the other living things everywhere. It reminded her of trying to concentrate on one person's voice inside a crowded city tavern. However, in the Forest, the background noises never, ever ceased.

Durnas had also suggested to Willow that there was a chance that skin dancing with the Green might help the newcomers adapt.

Very gradually, Willow felt Rock begin to relax. He seemed shocked and upset, but not damaged in any way, as far as she could tell. After a while, as she studied his face, he looked to be using his talent, probably _talking_ to the Green. His expression became troubled.

"I think it will be strange," he said. "I'm afraid..."

"We might be different afterwards," she replied. "I know. That's what I thought they said to me, too. And I've decided I will go. But you must do what you want."

"Of course I'm going," he said. Then he grinned, and his teeth were bright against the darkness.

"Come, eat!" Merel called out, just then.

During the afternoon, Durnas had taught Hest and Joren to make a baking pit. Willow understood it to be a kind of temporary stone hearth that was safe to use in the Forest. Joren and Hest were now baking a collection of edible roots and tubers wrapped in leaves. Earlier on, Willow had done her fair share of the work of finding the roots and digging them up. She had also helped Spider and Durnas put aside a good pile of foodstuffs for storage in the Rats' winter supplies.

Willow led Rock towards the baking pit, where everyone else had already gathered. Wildcat looked round as they approached. "We've been talking about different kinds of skin dancing," she said. "Marsh villagers knew all about skin dances, but no one there ever did one that I can remember."

"Marsh villagers – others, not you, Wildcat – they grow up in marsh and stay there, deep rooted," Neamis commented. "No need to skin dance. Wanderers do skin dance every full moon to be... to remember they are not unrooted. Wanderers are rooted everywhere, but without skin dances we might forget."

Willow thought she could understand how Wanderers might feel rootless. And her own experience of skin dancing had certainly involved connecting to the land and all the living creatures in the area. It had, indeed, been a kind of rooted feeling.

"Only young'uns generally danced in the hills," she said, to add her own experiences to the general discussion. "No children, and no adults. Just those in between. We were taught it was to remind us we're no more important than any other living things, so we should be respectful. It certainly felt like that, the one time I joined in."

It had been Guern's younger brother, Flax, who had organised that dance. Willow found herself wishing there was some way she could let Flax know what had happened to his brother.

Then Willow glanced at Rock. She was not sure if he would be willing to share his own experiences of skin dancing. He reached out to take a leaf-wrapped tuber passed to him by Hest.

"I've skin danced in the hills and with the Wanderers and... in a Spice City tavern," he said, slowly.

Rock sat down on the ground and began unwrapping his baked tuber, but he did not eat. Hest handed tubers to everyone else and Willow blew on hers to cool it.

Eventually, Rock continued speaking. "All the skin dances I've done had some things in common. A pole to dance round, and piercing the dancer's skin. And blood. But the different dances have different meanings, I think."

"The Green did it first," Wildcat said, through a mouthful of hot food. "Everyone else has copied them."

"The city..." Willow put in, hesitantly, because she was not sure how Rock would react, "...in the city, the people watching – the audience – took the dancer's blood and paid for it in coin. It was like they thought they could get the benefit of dancing without actually joining in."

"They were wrong," Rock answered, quietly. "There were no benefits to that kind of dance. It was done indoors, at any time of moon. I never felt anything but shame."

Willow hardly dared to breathe. This was the first time she had ever heard him speak about how he had actually felt while he tavern-danced. It had been his father's punishment for running away to be with the Wanderers. As far as she knew, Rock had pretended not to mind at the time. He might even have put on a show of enjoying it. Willow had only got to hear about it seasons later. By then, the reports suggested he had been a very good tavern dancer.

"Eat, Rock," Merel instructed. "Harvest was hard on you. You need food for dancing."

"Skin dancing's deep and wild and rooted, then?" Joren spoke up, just then. "Roots, again. Seafolk don't do it."

Willow detected some tension in his voice. Catching sight of Hest's expression, she wondered if the two of them had argued about whether to take up the Green's invitation.

She concentrated on finishing her meal and watching Rock, to be sure he did the same. When everyone was done, Durnas showed Hest and Joren how to tidy and make safe the baking pit. Willow paid close attention, knowing she was likely to have to construct one herself, before long.

The sky had been cloudy that afternoon. A few short rain showers had dampened the trees. Drips now continued to fall from twigs and leaves.

Moonrise tingled through the plants long before any visible moonlight reached the forest floor. Then a gentle call from the Green entered Willow's awareness. Wildcat, Neamis, Hest and Rock all began getting to their feet. Joren looked confused for a moment, then copied them.

"Them Green?" he asked Hest. "Yer certain t' do it, aren't you?"

From this, Willow guessed that Joren's fears were for Hest more than himself, and he had previously tried to talk his lover out of taking part.

"If you're doing this, Hest, so am I," Joren added, not sounding all that happy about it.

"All of us, then," Rock commented, "as invited."

"As wished by Green," agreed Neamis. "Our journey goes on."

Wildcat grabbed his hand. She looked so openly affectionate that the sight made Willow smile.

The six of them set off, leaving Merel, Spider and Durnas behind. The Rats seemed perfectly content to stay resting near the remaining heat of the baking pit.

It was not far to the forest glade chosen as a new home by the rescued Green. Earlier that day, Neamis had been to study the place. On his return, he had spoken approvingly of the Green's clever use of existing cavities in a long curve of stone beneath the soil. They had chosen a place where a large tree had recently fallen, crushing a number of smaller trees and bushes as it went. While it had been standing, the main tree's shade had discouraged other large plants from taking root there. A big area was still relatively free of shrubs and tall herbs, in spite of the patch of open sky above.

The Forest was now very dark. Willow struggled to see her own feet. She had to tree speak in order to avoid tripping over roots and moss-covered stones, or tangling her legs in trailing stems. Rock seemed to be following her lead, resting his own talent.

At the perimeter of the little glade, they nearly stepped on a fresh animal carcass. Rock leaned down to examine the kill. It was a memikit, a short-tailed rodent considerably bigger than a rat. Even without much light to see by, Willow could tell that its fur was matted with its own shed blood.

"I'd guess it was knocked on the head with a big stone, then its throat was cut, maybe with knife grass," Rock said.

"There's another one over there." Wildcat's voice came from close by. "I helped the Green to put them all around the glade. For bigger animals to eat, so they don't spoil the dance."

"Blood again," Rock murmured. "And they're some sort of threat, too."

His tone made Willow shiver.

"Don't worry," Wildcat called out. "The Green say no predator smaller than a black beast will ignore a nice, fresh, bloody memikit. Apparently, they're really tasty. And the threat you can feel is something else, Rock. It's a kind of earth memory to show this territory belongs to the Green, who are big and fierce and will kill and eat other animals. It should scare off anything except a person with no talent. Or a bear or a black beast, but those hibernate like the Green do."

"I see," Rock answered. "So its a kind of dominance thing. A gift to show who's in charge here. Though Joren and Spider won't be able to sense it."

"And the skin dance fixes it to this place?" asked Willow.

"That's right," agreed Wildcat. "An exchange between this place and the Green. And us. Later on, they'll make a sort-of earth mound over the top of the underground rock-holes."

The six friends entered the glade. Willow counted the Green who waited there. All twenty-three of them were present, even the children. It was difficult to make out a great deal in the dark, but the dance pole was obvious. Using her talent Willow could tell it was one tall, straight branch of the recently fallen tree. It had been trimmed and deliberately pushed a considerable way down into the hole left by the uprooted trunk. Willow could just make out the ends of slackvine ropes fixed to its top.

The rest of the tree lay behind this pole, roots now pointing to the sky. Much of the wood was slowly dying. Yet Willow thought it might still be possible for new growth to rise out of those roots nearest the soil. Still tree speaking, she learned that the tree had memories of its fall, during a winter storm. A sudden gust had ripped through its crown at just the wrong moment, in just the wrong way, overbalancing it and tearing roots from the ground. Without very much regret, the tree had already begun redirecting its energy into its remaining sections. The damaged parts would be allowed to rot away. Rotted wood would make good nourishment, in time.

Letting go of her connection to the tree, Willow found that Rock was standing close beside her. She did not need to look at him to know he was tense with anticipation. There was no sound from Wildcat, who was almost certainly bursting with excitement. Willow glanced across at Hest and Joren. They were holding hands. As far as she could tell in the darkness, Hest seemed unafraid. Joren's posture suggested he was more nervous. Beside them stood Neamis.

The Green were already gathered around the tree and the dance pole, all looking up at the sky. Willow felt a sense of welcome and invitation from them, but it was oddly faint, as if they were distracted by something else. The moon was rising. It was not visible above the tree tops, but the sky was slowly lightening.

Suddenly, the Green all began to sing. The sound they made was nothing like their healing song, or any skin dance song Willow had heard before. To her ears, it seemed wildly unorganised. It was like every singer had chosen a different tune without caring how it related to the rest. She and her friends kept silent, exchanging uncertain glances. They stayed close together, not quite included in the Green's rough circle.

Then Willow saw one of the Green women go forward, still singing, to pick something up from the ground nearer the fallen tree. Looking more closely, Willow guessed there was a collection of stitchbark slivers and knife grass stems there.

The rest of the Green then went forward, one, or two, or three at a time. After taking stitchbark and knife grass, they each chose one of the long slackvine ropes hanging from the dance pole. Holding the rope ends, and continuing to sing, they each stepped back a few paces, separating out the rope they had chosen. The youngest of the children rode in the arms of an adult. Older children were guided by an adult on either side.

There were still plenty of ropes left when all of the Green were done. Without saying a word, Wildcat then collected her own tools and went over to a rope. Neamis went next. The Green made no sign of acceptance, or otherwise, as far as Willow could tell. When she made an effort to _listen_ to them, there was only that same feeling of invitation.

"Obviously, we're to do as we think best," Rock softly whispered.

Hest and Joren went up to the pole. Willow noticed Joren nod towards the closest of the Green, who appeared indifferent to the arrival of company.

Willow looked up into Rock's face. There was not yet enough moonlight to be certain he had lost the troubled, exhausted look of earlier on. He smiled, and they walked forward together.

There were many unclaimed slackvine ropes still hanging straight down, and none were tangled. It was easy to take a couple side by side and stand ready in between two of the Green.

Glancing up at the cloudy sky above the treetops, Willow still could not see the moon. Yet its light was definitely strengthening. It was possible for her to make out what the Green were doing. As she watched, they began piercing themselves or each other, using the knife grass to cut with. Some pierced deeply through their backs or chests, thighs or upper arms. Some chose far smaller wounds through wrists, the backs of hands or the tips of fingers. Even the children appeared to choose the site of their own piercing. The youngest children did not seem to bleed, so Willow guessed they were cut only through the very outermost layers of their skin. Once pierced, the Green each continued to sing.

Willow saw the woman next to her pinch a fold of skin at her waist, then make a clean knife grass cut. The Green woman threaded stitchbark through the cut and tied that to a slackvine rope before even one drop of blood had flowed out of the neat wound. Then she resumed her song, swaying her body from side to side as she did so. For a few moments, all Willow could do was stare in fascination. Then she returned her attention to her own part in the dance.

She considered piercing the skin of her brand, once more. To do so would change it still further from Capability Reader's mark. But it would also change the new mark, created by skin dancing with the Wanderers. On a sudden impulse, Willow undid the front of her jacket and pulled aside her blouse, then set about piercing the skin under one breast. Choosing a place normally hidden by her clothing seemed like a more appropriate gift to the Forest.

Rock had been watching. He gave Willow a brief smile, indicating that he understood. He made his own piercing at the top of one arm after rolling up his sleeve rather than taking off his shirt. In contrast to Willow, he already had many old dance scars hidden beneath it. Those wounds had been taken lightly, or so he had previously claimed. By leaving them covered up, she guessed he wanted to show they no longer mattered.

Although Rock was now making an attempt at copying some of the sounds made by the Green, Willow did not try. Instead, she quietly sang the skin dance song from Warner. Feeling awkward in comparison to the Green, she tried swaying her hips and arching her back in a slow rhythm. Rock seemed to move rather more easily, even though he had seemed so tired before.

Brighter moonlight began to reach the glade. Unlike a village skin dance, this one required no fire. So it was not necessary to hold the slackvine ropes taut to avoid burning them. The Green let their ropes fall loosely without getting them tangled up.

As Willow moved, small drips of her blood soaked into the slackvine rope. Some fell to the forest floor. Her talent opened up. She felt the pull of plant sap towards the moon, and the sharp hunger of predator animals hunting after dark. Some creatures had already scented the memikit offerings left out for them, and were moving in.

Leaves tumbled to the ground as trees prepared for winter. Yet the trees were still awake, enjoying the presence of the dance above their root tips. A mouse, startled by the shadow of an owl flying by, scurried under cover of a pile of leaves and ran down a hole in the soil under a root. That soil was teeming with seeds and fungi and insects and even smaller creatures. A very tiny plant, whose roots anchored it onto the bark of a tree, secreted sticky liquid to catch very small insects, like a miniature slimevine.

All the time she was exploring her surroundings, Willow danced and sang, still progressing around the skin dance pole. With almost no consciousness of what she was doing, and having forgotten to worry about remembering the song. Her body was moving of its own accord. She had also forgotten her worries about becoming talent-lost.

Moonlight falling into the hole in the tree canopy over her head was like faint sparkles of heat. There were insects, too small to see, that floated in the air in front of her face. She knew their tiny delicate shapes, although she would never see one through her eyes.

Then a sharp sensation jerked along Willow's skin dance rope, even though the rope had not physically moved. After a moment of confusion she realised the source of it had been the branch that formed the dance pole. It was calling her back into herself. She was momentarily afraid, understanding that the tree had pulled her back from wandering too far in talent. Even though the branch that formed the pole was detached from its trunk and slowly dying.

Making an effort to blink and look around through her eyes, Willow thought the dance must have lasted a long time. Her hands were cold and her knees ached. She felt a deep hot stinging over her ribs, where the stitchbark tied through her skin rasped against the wound.

Shocked to find herself now singing a very different song to the one learned in Warner, she began listening to the other voices around her. Everyone else's song had changed, too. Now, all the Green and the non-green, including Willow, were singing one song together. The change had taken place all by itself while her mind had been occupied elsewhere. The new song felt natural and was easy to follow without effort, although she had never heard anything like it before.

The slackvine ropes all hung closer to the ground. Looking up towards the top of the pole, Willow could see they had become woven together in a roughly tangled pattern. The turning movement of the dance had twined them further around each other.

Close beside her, Rock appeared to be far gone in talent. However, Willow trusted the dance pole to bring him back when necessary. She knew it was somehow keeping watch over them all. Or perhaps the whole Forest was working through the pole.

Looking around for her friends, she soon spotted Neamis and Wildcat swaying in perfect time with each other and the song. Both had pierced only the tip of one finger. Hest, pierced on his upper arm, caught Willow's eye as she looked towards him. His expression was blissful. At his side, Joren moved just as easily as Hest. Joren's eyes were shut. His piercing was on the back of one hand, which he was holding out absolutely steady, in spite of the movement of the rest of his body. He seemed just as much a part of the dance as anyone with a talent.

When, at last, the moonlight started to fade, the Green's singing and movements slowed gradually. Willow followed their lead. Finally, everyone became still and silent. There was a pause in which Willow really began to feel how overworked her muscles had become and how much the piercing hurt. The open front of her blouse and jacket fell across it, making it worse.

Soon, the Green began unthreading their stitchbark, laying the ends of their slackvine ropes down in the leaf litter. Willow, Rock and the other non-green copied them. The moon had dropped below the tops of the surrounding trees. In the increasing darkness, it was already becoming difficult to see the Green properly.

"They've claimed this place now," said Wildcat, quietly. "That's what the dance did for them. It did different things for us."

Not giving any kind of acknowledgement at all, the Green then left the glade, all setting off in different directions. Willow thought she could sense their mood without consciously using her talent at all. They all felt pleasantly tired. Their muscles were sore, just as hers were. Many were hungry. Two children had already argued about where they were to sleep that morning and felt resentment and jealousy. All of them were now going in search of food.

Startled, Willow looked towards Wildcat, who noticed her friend's attention straight away, and grinned. "Feel it?" she asked. "Something's changed in us, hasn't it?"

"We're linked to the Green in a way we weren't before?" asked Hest.

"Forest," said Neamis. "Not only Green."

"Uh," Joren commented.

There was a slightly awkward pause, in which Willow was sure everyone wondered if Joren felt left out. His next words astounded her.

"I'm still silent, like Spider is. Talent's not my choice. But th' Green're people. They don't talk out loud, but I c'n understand them when I need to."

Neamis put a hand on Wildcat's arm, obviously wanting to distract her from getting irritated with Joren. "You hear Rats, Wildcat?"

Puzzled, Willow tried listening for the Rats, herself, just as she would try to _hear_ plants or the Green. Shockingly, just for an instant, she had a sense that Merel and Durnas were both laughing at her. Reaching out with her talent some more, she caught a sense of Rock and her friends. They felt like thoughtful, mobile plants. Or powerfully mindful animals.

The experience reminded her of what had happened on the two occasions the Green had done something to allow her to _hear_ the thoughts of her talented friends. Yet this felt entirely different. It belonged to herself and it felt permanent.

"You mean we can all rat-talk now?" she managed to say out loud. "Like the rest of them. And the skin dance did that?"

"Rat-talking?" Joren asked. "Not me. Silent, like I said."

Neamis had dropped his hand from Wildcat's arm and gone very still, as though using his talent. Suddenly, he lifted his head to look towards the others.

"Only here, inside Forest," he said. "We are fast-moving, fast-thinking stones, but I can hear, yes. But not far distance, like Flight."

He sounded very sad. It was obvious he had already tried to reach out as far as the other Wanderers. Willow suspected he might also be thinking how much Flight would have loved a chance to skin dance with the Green.

Very carefully, she tried _talking_ to him, just as she would _speak_ to a plant when tree speaking, gently acknowledging his unhappiness. Looking towards her, he smiled. Then he _talked_ back, thanking her for her concern. Moments later, Rock, Hest and Wildcat had joined in. All five of them began speaking through talent, laughing out loud as they did so.

Joren stared at them all in silence.

With an arm around his lover's waist, Hest then began talking to him aloud, sharing the others' thoughts with him.

"We think it's to do with blood," Hest explained. "The dance did it, but in dancing we gave our blood to the Forest. All of us. You, too, Joren. We danced inside the flow, like water does, and the blood that fell into the ground is still there."

Wildcat had bowed her head in a way that Willow recognised. It meant the marsh girl was using her talent furiously.

A moment later, Wildcat reached for Neamis with her good arm. "That's Merel speaking," she said aloud, so as to include Joren. "'Tells me he's stayed awake all night to make sure we all made it through the dance and the rat-talking doesn't scare us. He says not to worry, it only works when you let it. That's why he's telling me and not the rest of you – to prove it. No one can hear thoughts you don't want to share."

Neamis smiled. "So we go private now?" he asked her.

Willow abruptly lost her mental contact with Wildcat, who then went off into the trees with Neamis. Hest and Joren soon left, too, heading in the opposite direction.

Putting both his arms inside Willow's unfastened clothing, Rock pulled her towards him. He avoided the new, still bleeding skin dance wound, although the pressure of his grip still made her draw in a sudden breath.

"Sorry." He let his hands drop and stood back, just looking at her instead.

"Amazing!" he said, wonderingly.

"Do you feel different?" she asked him. "I do. There's the Green and the Rats, but something else, too."

"What is it?"

She was wary of reminding him of the harvest so soon. Yet her own perception of it had altered. "I don't feel quite the same about the harvest anymore," she ventured, watching him closely.

He frowned. "No," he agreed, "you're right. It's still there, still wrong, still hurting the Forest. Only... well, it's like something I could grow around if I wanted to. I don't know... I want... the harvest is still wrong!"

"That's you, feeling that. But the other is... what..? a better understanding of the voice of the Forest, do you think?"

Rock shrugged his shoulders, but it might have just been to ease the discomfort of the dance wound.

"It's like we're inside the flow of the Forest now," Willow said, echoing Hest's words. "And it isn't for itself that Forest calls us. For itself, it could just give in, let the Harvesters take whatever they want. When all the Forest everywhere's completely gone, the fault will be theirs, the Harvesters'. And they'll be left with the consequences. The droughts, the floods, the plagues of insects and all the other disasters they've brought on themselves. I think... I think the call of the Forest, that I've heard ever since I came into my talent, might never have been a cry of pain at all."

"You think it's always been more of a warning? Or do you mean the pain has always really belonged to the person hearing it?"

"Both. You know how our talents are all about translating – making sense of the information we pick up from the plants and animals – well, after that dance, it's like I've got a better idea of what the Forest means."

Rock nodded his head in agreement. "Well, it's nearly dawn and it's starting to rain again," he said. "Shall we find somewhere private and dry?"

The way he then rubbed his thigh against her hip left her in no doubt about what he felt like doing.

"You looked so tired earlier on..." she replied doubtfully.

"I'm awake again, now."

They withdrew to a nest of dead leaves hidden under a thick canopy of tangled vines. Under Willow's hands, all of Rock's older skin dance scars were now familiar. She touched them with as much love as she touched all of the rest of his skin.

EIGHTEEN - ROCK

All of Rock's non-green travelling companions were soon introduced to the harvest edge, Joren included.

Willow returned from her first visit looking just as sickened Rock had feared she would. Wildcat did not speak out loud to anyone for half a day after the experience. Hest and Neamis had both seen the harvest before, but only from a distance. Going up close still appeared to shock them.

"Like watching th' place get beaten up, n' killed, then torn to pieces," Joren described it. He seemed just as upset as everyone else.

Joren quickly began spending most of his time with Spider and other silent Rats, though Rock continued to see him occasionally. All the Forest Rats regularly worked in different groups, according to their talents and interests.

The Rats did not all live in the same place. Through rat-talking, they looked out for one another and made sure all the necessary work got done. Even the silent ones always seemed to know where to find another Rat nearby when they needed to. With the exception of Joren, Rock and his friends explored their surprising new ability to rat-talk. Using actual words turned out to be difficult, although not impossible. It was far easier to send a feeling, or a warning, or a desire; or to transmit a mental picture.

Rock and Willow continued to sleep together. During the day, Willow was usually tree speaking or plant gathering. Rock mainly tried to persuade animals to move away from the harvest edge. In between sessions of animal talking, he also helped stock the Rats' winter food stores. Everyone did that whenever they could.

The Rats only made one direct attack on the Harvesters themselves. It was during an evening rainstorm. Hest _talked_ a flood towards one of the parked soil dredgers. He was the only one to use his talent. Rock and several others moved stones and used digging sticks to make small trenches, helping the water to go in the right direction. Although there were harvest workers guarding the dredger all night, they could not protect it from flowing water. The dredger's wheels were soon wedged stuck with mud and debris. None of the Harvesters could have known it was anything more than an unfortunate accident. No more soil dredging took place after the attack.

Slowly, Rock found he was able to increase the length of his animal talking sessions at the harvest edge. The sadness and despair that came with the work never lessened, but he could stand it for a little longer each time. Even so, he usually looked forward to the more straightforward tasks of finding and storing food.

One day, Bee offered a lesson in making clay storage pots to anyone needing a break from the harvest edge. Rock, Willow and Wildcat accepted happily. They had all spent the previous few days on harvest rat-work.

Crouched between the two girls at the edge of a stream bank, Rock found it quite a struggle to follow all of Bee's instructions. Neither of the girls seemed to be having any difficulty at all.

Sitting up straighter, Rock wriggled his aching shoulders, watching as Bee demonstrated shaping yet another pot of his own. Then a sound from behind them caused Bee to look up from his work. Rock turned round just in time to see Garnet the wolf woman step out of the trees. He had not seen her since that first day of visiting the harvest edge with Merel.

Garnet carried a row of gutted small animals threaded onto a stick. Rock glanced at Willow. He caught her look of surprise, closely followed by fascination. She had not previously been introduced to Garnet, as far as he knew.

"This is for you," said Garnet, placing the meat in front of Bee. "I caught more than I can eat. Who is this?" She was looking at Willow.

"Willow," Bee replied. "And Rock, but you already met him, I heard."

Garnet appeared to study Willow closely for a while. Then the wolf woman winked at Rock. After that, she turned to Wildcat.

"This must be the Wild Cat. I have been told of you," was Garnet's next greeting. "Will you hunt with me sometime, Wild Cat?"

Rock could tell Wildcat was intrigued, but she was trying to remain cool. She looked down at the clay in her hands for a few moments, continuing to smooth her pot until it was finished. Garnet did not seem to mind. She stood waiting.

When she had finished the pot, Wildcat looked up at the wolf woman. "I'm free now," she said.

Garnet nodded once, and smiled. Then, with no further discussion, Wildcat got up, shook the stream water off her feet, and slipped away into the Forest after Garnet.

"Garnet chooses her own company," commented Bee. "I'll leave you two to work on, while I get this meat stored safe."

Moments later, Rock and Willow found themselves alone.

"Well, that was odd" said Willow. Then, after a pause, she went on, "Do you want to be her lover? Garnet, the wolf woman? I felt the way she interests you. You've obviously met her before."

Rock stared at her. He sat back on his heels, letting his partly-made pot sit on the stream bed.

"Bull's balls!" he replied, eventually. "That's not how I thought this rat-talking was supposed to work. Merel told me no one could hear any thoughts I don't offer out."

"I didn't hear your thoughts, I only needed to look at you," she replied. "I could see your feelings in your eyes. Do you ever rat-talk with Garnet?"

"No!" He had not dared. The wolf woman had seemed far too strange. "Just because she stirs me a bit doesn't mean I'm going to act on it," he managed to explain.

For a while, they both returned their full attention to the making of pots. Rock eventually managed to create one wobble-edged vessel in the time it took Willow to make three perfect smooth-sided ones.

"So do you care if I have another lover as well as you?" Rock finally asked her. They had never actually talked about it before.

Looking up, she stared at him in silence for a few moments.

"Well," she eventually answered, "I don't think I would want to be your lover if you were loving someone else at the same time. No. I wouldn't like it. I want you all to myself."

Inwardly, Rock congratulated himself. He thought he had surprised her by talking honestly instead of giving in to his usual habit of avoiding difficult conversations.

All of a sudden, Willow gave Rock such a sharp look, he thought he must have done something wrong. He had begun another clay pot, which he looked down at in bewilderment.

"So then," Willow said, "tell me how you really felt about Kezzy. Do you still wish she loved you back."

Rock set the pot aside.

"Kezzy," he repeated. "I guess I never explained that properly."

"It's all right if you don't want to."

"It's not all right," he said quickly. "It's just, there isn't much to say. I really liked Kezzy. And... well, the city wasn't my home any more, and Warner was never my home. So I thought maybe I could settle in the marshes. Only, Kezzy wanted Blue and wasn't interested in me. I was stupid to think I could change her mind. It was all stupid, but that time is gone. Now I'm with you and no one else. That's the truth."

He opened his thoughts to her, rat-talking to back up his words. Willow smiled and shook her head.

"I believe you," she said, out loud. "You don't need to show me the inside of your mind to prove it. Though I like some of what I'm finding in there."

They finished the pots and left them drying out under the cover of a low-hanging patch of vines. By then it was nearly sunset, so they chose a place to spend the night. Much later, they fell asleep after a long and very pleasant evening together.

The following morning, Rock remembered something he had been thinking over just before falling asleep.

"Willow," he asked, as soon as he saw her open her eyes, "does my name make you laugh?"

She did not answer straight away, but he thought she might only be taking time to become properly awake.

"Your name," she repeated, at last. "Well, the first time I heard it, in Warner, I did think it was a silly name. Yes, I'm afraid I did."

Looking back on that time, Rock had to admit he could not really blame her.

"But I've got used to it," Willow continued. "Rock is who you are. So, no. Your name does not make me laugh. Not now."

"I could change my name. I don't have to lie on stone to be able to sleep, like I did back then. And I don't need my name for protection."

"I know you don't. But the name you chose is the name I know you by. Don't change it. Please."

Satisfied, Rock stretched himself against her, feeling her warmth along the whole length of his body.

"Good," he said, lazily. He felt no need to add anything more on the subject.

Later that day, he joined Hornet and man whose name was Stemtwist, to _talk_ with shocked and distressed animals a short way beyond the harvest edge. The knowledge of Willow's affection continued to glow deep inside Rock's chest as he worked.

It soon became common knowledge among the Rats that Garnet and Wildcat were regularly hunting together. Their more far-ranging trips often lasted several days and nights. If Wildcat was away, Neamis sometimes joined Hest to study a stream, or went stone-searching with other stone listeners.

When not working at the harvest edge, Rock learned to weave reed mats. He never really mastered clay pot making. The mats were needed for rainproof coverings, now that forest leaf-fall was progressing and the tree canopy gave less protection than before.

On one occasion, Neamis and Joren took a day off from the harvest edge at the same time as Rock and Willow, so the four of them decided to work together. Rock paired up with Neamis to weave opposite ends of the same large mat. At the same time, Willow and Joren worked on another one.

Rock thought Neamis seemed unusually quiet. "Does it upset you that Wildcat spends so much time off hunting with Garnet?" he could not help asking, eventually.

"My Wildcat is free,", Neamis answered, immediately. There was no hurt in his voice, as far as Rock could tell.

"Don't you feel jealous though, Neamis?" Willow asked, joining the conversation without hesitation. Rock knew she had been worrying about him, too.

"I am Wanderer," Neamis replied. "Enjoy what is given now. And after... we travel on."

Looking up from his work, Rock saw Joren shake his head at that. Willow was smiling, her head bent over her weaving.

An instant later, Rock was distracted from his thoughts by a tug at his senses, coming from somewhere nearby. One of the Green was trying to get his attention. He _listened_. With a surge of excitement, he realised this Green was not familiar. It must be one of the local ones, Merel's Green. So far, they had all kept themselves hidden from the non-green newcomers. Perhaps even from Wildcat.

"Ah... I felt a call," he said out loud to his friends. "I'll just go closer, to see what they want."

He did not say who the call had come from. If the others had heard it, too, they would work it out for themselves. If not, then it might be best to let them assume it was one of the Rats hidden in the trees.

"It's not Garnet," he added, mainly for Willow's benefit.

"One of them Green we never see, I reckon" said Joren, surprisingly.

Rock glanced toward Willow, who now stared at him. Her eyes told him she had also heard the Green call. Yet she stayed where she was, opposite Hest. As Rock got to his feet, Willow's hands continued to bend the reed blades in and out.

Rock walked away from the edge of the reed patch. There were two Green waiting for him. He located them by following the pull of their thoughts. They stood absolutely still against a line of moss-covered tree trunks. He would never have noticed them if they had not wished it. When he got close enough, they reached out their hands and touched his shoulders in greeting.

Their hair was long, and so thick with green-brown growth that it hung over most of their bodies, covering them like cloaks. The skin of their faces was wrinkled, so that Rock immediately thought of them as Green elders.

Taking his lead from them, he stayed still, letting them communicate in their own way. The touch of their hands made it easier to _hear_ them. They let him know they were concerned about a mature black beast who was behaving oddly.

Rock replied that he knew very little about black beasts. The Green then offered him a glimpse of their own knowledge. First, they gave him some impressions that were mostly visual, of some Green riding a young beast in a Forest clearing. He was not sure if these were individual or group memories, or stories the Green passed between themselves. The images Rock now saw inside his own head were not detailed, but they came to him accompanied by some of the Green's opinions as well.

He gathered that those riding the black beast were highly skilled, and their work was rare and dangerous. Rock saw images of Green beast-trainers tracking a beast cub over many seasons, somehow ignoring its mother's lie-cloud. The same Green tracked the same animal when it had grown into a young adult, continually making themselves familiar to it. Finally, they went right up close and rode it.

Rock also got the impression that the whole exercise sometimes ended in the death of one or more Green. The beast probably had no objection to pushing and pulling at heavy stones and trees, or digging furrows in the earth with its claws, because the Green always brought it food in return. But there was danger involved in making the animal understand what was wanted, and why. One tiny misunderstanding might lead to the beast refusing to cooperate, or even throwing the Green off its back and then eating them.

After providing Rock with all this background information, the two Green elders then returned to their original concern. The beast that now worried them had never been trained. They were puzzled by it. All of their own group and the newly arrived group had built their greenhomes with their own hands, well away from any black beast territories. And yet, a beast had come. A mature beast, not a young one looking to claim a new territory of its own.

It should be no danger over winter. Black beasts hibernated, like the Green. But these two wanted to know if Rock could explain _why_ a black beast might leave its own territory. They had never known such a thing to happen before.

Having shared their knowledge with him, the Green now seemed to be waiting for Rock to answer. At first, all he could manage was to wonder why they not consulted Wildcat, or any of the other Rats who could animal talk.

The two Green replied that they knew he had a connection to the Harvesters. These Green had chosen Rock to approach because they thought he would know most about the ways of other Harvesters. They wanted him to tell them if Harvesters might have their own methods of taming a black beast. And, if so, whether they would take one out of its territory and not send it back afterwards.

Shame threatened to darken Rock's thoughts. He fought to push it aside and think clearly. They were right, he had been a Harvester once. That made him useful, but only if he could admit to his past.

Using mental pictures, thoughts and memories, Rock tried to explain to the Green what he knew. Harvesters would not feel a black beast's lie-cloud. Because of that, it would, indeed, be possible for some of them to approach one. Capability Reader had once told Willow they had already considered it.

There was no way Rock could explain coins and profit to the Green. Yet they seemed to understand when he told them Harvesters thought of animals as tools who did not have minds. He tried to explain that Harvesters would be likely to hurt and frighten a black beast if they caught one. The Green replied that, in that case, all such Harvesters must already be dead.

Rock thought the huge changes caused by the harvest might have caused a black beast to get lost. The Green understood this idea. He could tell they felt some sympathy with the beast, even though they would not risk the effects of its lie-cloud by trying to communicate with it. At last, they sent Rock feelings of thankfulness and then slipped away. They had given him no hint of their response to his hidden shame about his family, although he knew they must have sensed it.

He returned to his friends, knowing they would be bursting with questions for him.

"Wildcat'll be jealous of yer," Joren commented, the moment Rock was close enough to be seen.

Smiling to himself, Rock silently agreed.

He gave the others an account of what had passed between himself and the Green, leaving out his own feelings about why they had asked him. News of the beast, and the Green's interest in it, was soon passed about through rat-talk. By sunset, Rock thought everyone had probably guessed why the two Green elders had chosen him to talk to. It made him bad-tempered for several days.

Thankfully, something more important soon happened to distract everyone. The last of the harvest wagons set off towards the Great Forest Road, leaving the deadland deserted. Then the first snow fall came shortly afterwards. Rock enjoyed imagining the struggles the Harvesters must be having as they tried to get back to the city.

As soon as it was clear that the snow would settle and not melt, all of the Green, and Merel, went into the greenhomes. Meanwhile, the Rats were able to enter the deadland. They stayed away from the road, and a place the Harvesters had made into a huge burial ground. Loose earth covered the remains of all the workers who had died of forest madness, injuries, or disease before they could return to the Spice City.

The Harvesters had also left many dead and dying trees behind the perimeter of the deadland. Rats now used some of the deadwood to make small fires on the open ground. One strong, hot fire was kept going long enough to bake some of the clay pots, making them strong and waterproof. Plenty of meat was cooked on other fires.

Rock accepted all the meat he was offered, even though it never felt entirely right. He had found it hard to eat flesh since coming into his talent. Not all animal talkers had the same problem. Wildcat never seemed to mind eating meat. She and Garnet were often the ones responsible for providing a fresh kill for the Rats to cook. Rock often longed for a hunk of bread, and onion stew thickened with dried beans.

He continued to learn new skills from other Rats. A silent one, whose name was Annateen, taught him how to make a pair of moccasins from large flathorn leaves that had been soaked overnight in his own pee. The smell wore off after a while. Lined with an insulating layer of dry moss packed between more leaves, they were tough and comfortable. He planted his old shoes under a tree to rot. Not only had they worn out, they were unsuitable for deep snow.

Joren had shown himself to be wonderfully good at carving in wood, hard vines, and even soft stones. His decorative additions to tree-platform supports, fixings, and cache covers had been appearing all over the place since they had first arrived. He managed to teach Rock to cut rough spoons and bowls from fallen branches. Rock's efforts did not look pretty, but they were useful.

Rock also learned how to make shelters out of packed snow, often working alongside Neamis.

"Snow is small ice, small water," Neamis explained to him, on one occasion. "Hest tells me of air inside small ice walls. Many, many little air traps. Together they are thick, like blanket. Like fur."

Neamis smiled as he spoke. Like Rock, he now wore layers of warm coverings, including a hat woven from the soft stems of a plant the Rats called cloth-vine. "Snow makes a good place to be warm. That is a joke," he added, sounding serious and losing his smile in an instant.

All the Rats knew how difficult the coming winter was likely to be. They had prepared as well as they could. The last of the supplies of stems and leaves for weaving had all been made into mats or softer coverings that could be used as blankets. Large supplies of food had been smoked, dried, cooked or frozen, then packed into storage caches. The coldest days were only just beginning.

Rock took turns with other animal talkers to guard the food stores. Many animals hibernated, but deer, wolves, foxes, memikits, a variety of smaller creatures and a great many birds, did not. The Rats' caches were cleverly built, but still vulnerable to determined foragers. The animal talkers also looked out for unfamiliar people. If strays ever found a Rat food cache, they would steal the contents and then search until they found more.

Several times every day, Rock carefully practised using talent within the Forest, and rat-talking with anyone willing to help him improve. He knew that Willow did much the same, and presumed Wildcat was being advised by Garnet. It seemed important for all of them to develop their abilities as fast as possible. Skin dancing with the Green had helped them, but the other Rats still warned against getting fried.

"Durnas told me the strongest talents can get struck worst," Willow said, one evening.

Rock had just admitted to having given himself a headache from trying too hard for too long. They were alone in one of the snow-shelters, wrapped together in a leaf-blanket.

"Really?" he asked. "Thanks for the compliment, but my head really hurts."

"The strongest animal talkers and tree speakers. Not so much other talents," she went on, ignoring his pain. "Strongest, or most well trained, she wasn't sure on that. And it's worst when you're new here. That's when people die forest-lost most often. It's what happened to Guern. Durnas says if you can last a season, you're usually all right after that."

"Hest and Neamis don't suffer the same way we do," Rock said, pressing his hands against the sides of his own forehead and squeezing. The pressure did not really ease his headache, but it felt good to pretend to fight it somehow.

"Hest told me he's in no more danger of becoming lost in water here than he was anywhere else," Willow replied. "Neamis never seems worried about getting lost in stone."

She leaned forward to lay a cool hand on the back of his neck. It actually helped, and his headache began easing off.

"Just as much water and stone here as anywhere, I suppose," he said. "Is Neamis all right, do you think? I know all about how Wanderers always move on, but Wildcat spends so much time with Garnet, now, and... well, Flight missed out on all this... the wonder of it all."

Willow dropped her cold fingers below Rock's collar and began to stoke the muscles at the base of his neck. He allowed his shoulders to relax.

"I know," Willow agreed. "I remember Flight almost every time I think about rat-talking. But Neamis is managing, as far as I can tell."

She did not offer any more reassurance than that. Rock understood. It would be a difficult winter for all of them. No one had come here expecting comfort. Yet none of the Forest Rats ever seemed to consider leaving to spend the winter somewhere safer. Rock did not think it was only that they had nowhere else to go, or that the journey out of the Forest would take too long. He had noticed that everyone talked as though the Forest wanted them here. He felt it himself, sometimes. Forest accepted the Rats into itself. They became a part of it, once they had lived here for a while. And that made all of the hardship worth the risk.

A few days later, Rock and Willow did get to meet with Wildcat face to face. Willow had discovered a patch of edible tubers in an area not yet too deeply frozen for digging. Such finds were always announced by general rat-talking, so that anyone nearby could choose to help. Rock and Willow began sweeping away the snow using brooms made of dead twigs. Then Wildcat emerged from a thicket of snow-dusted brambles.

"Garnet wanted to hunt alone, and Neamis is with a big stone near the deadland," she said. "So, today, I'll work with you."

"We're your third choice?" Rock queried. He was not really annoyed, but Willow still glared at him.

These days, Wildcat no longer needed any kind of bandage to cover her healing stab wound. Yet Rock noticed the way she moved. He suspected the wound still gave her a good deal of pain.

"Do you want me to look at it?" Willow asked her.

"Garnet already did," was Wildcat's surprising reply. "She listens to it, like the Wanderer healers do."

"She does?" Willow did not sound jealous, only intrigued. "Would she teach us, do you think?"

"If she feels like it, she might." Wildcat gave a half-smile that indicated such a thing would be entirely up to Garnet. "When Neamis gets that stone out of the ground we can roast these tubers," she went on, changing the subject abruptly.

"He told me it's for building a heating fire, not a cooking fire," Rock pointed out. Neamis's stone would hold warmth long after the firewood had burned out.

Willow did not appear to be listening. She had paused in her work and looked like she was using her talent. Then her expression changed as she came back to herself and remembered where she was.

"The Green," she said. "We're fairly close to Merel's greenhome here, so I was just checking on them. I hope all that dusk doesn't hurt them."

The second greenhome was at the centre of a thicket of merrythorns. The fiercely spiny plants made a complete circle around it. Although the Green did not _talk_ while they were sleeping, it was still possible sense their presence through talent.

"Dusk slows their hearts," Wildcat explained, as though this was something she had already discussed with the Green or with Merel. "They go very cold. I don't think they'd survive Forest winters otherwise. They're different to us in that way. But the dusk makes them calm, too. It can't be easy snuggling together for such a long time. Dusk probably helps them to tolerate each other while they're so close."

Rock thought about this, in relation to the way Harvesters encouraged the sale of dusk in the Spice City. He wondered if it was similar, in some perverted way.

"Well," he said slowly, sharing his thoughts out loud, "I suppose Riverside dusk dreamers are no threat to anyone. Except when they steal and fight to get more dusk when they don't have coin to pay for it. They certainly don't attack Harvesters or elders' people."

"No," agreed Willow, her voice tense. "Dusk makes them too confused to even question the way Harvesters push it at them and then won't let them have any, at the same time."

"But it's different for the Green," insisted Wildcat. "They tree speak with the dusk, and they harvest it and dry it themselves, every summer's end. They chew dried leaves. They don't grind it into powder and store it for seasons and seasons like Harvesters do."

Rock told himself she was right, the Green surely knew far more about dusk than any Harvester. He just worried they could be vulnerable in those hidden burrows of theirs.

"I check both greenhomes nearly every day," Wildcat said, as if she had picked up his thoughts. "I go and look with my eyes as well as using talent. But the Green did tell me not to bother. They pack the walls of greenhomes with a thick layer of earth and they line them with all kinds of plants. Not even a wolf can smell the sleeping Green, or the dusk, from outside. Nothing smaller than a black beast would ever bother digging through the walls to get at them, and black beasts hibernate. Don't forget, there's also a kind of cloud left after the skin dances. It tells creatures to keep away."

He knew what she meant. He had felt it, too.

"Is it strong enough, though?" he could not help saying. "Would it work on a stray?"

"Don't know," answered Wildcat, straightening up and dusting off her hands. "Well, I'm done here. If Neamis isn't going to cook them, I'll take these tubers to Wood Wasp. He's got a smoke fire going, out on the deadland. These will store a lot longer if we smoke them first, anyway. See you around. I'll leave the rest for you two to sort out. Oh, wait..."

She reached into a pocket of her clothing and brought out a folded pad of leaves, passing it to Willow. "Seema leaf for you," she said. "Thought you might be close to running out, and we found some when we were hunting in much deeper forest. Fresher than any in the caches. Just spread it out somewhere under cover to dry a bit before you store it away."

As Willow smiled and thanked her, Rock was ashamed to think that he had never even asked her if she still had enough seema. Wildcat gathered a heap of tubers into a carrying net and hauled it over her shoulder. Then, with a brief wave, she left.

"Bye Wildcat," Willow said quietly, after her friend had already gone. Meeting Rock's gaze, she added, "Wild... she fits right in here."

It turned out to have been just as well they had dug the tubers straight away. The cold increased overnight, with more snow the next day. Rock and Willow joined in with the task of reinforcing the tree platforms against the chilling wind. They tied walls of dead twigs into the branches around the edges and strengthened the roofs against the weight of snow.

At last, after many days of such work, there were only two tree shelters left to strengthen. Rock worked on one of them, accompanied by Willow, Hest and Joren. Neamis, Bee and Hornet mended the other, several large trees away. Wildcat had already gone off hunting, probably in Garnet's company. The rest of the Rats were mostly gathered around fires out in the deadland.

Rock became absorbed in the process of forcing supple rods in and out of a row of uprights. He was completely focussed on the task when a rat-shout caught him by surprise.

It was Wildcat, warning everyone there was a black beast in the area. Rock sat back on his heels, shaking his head in confusion.

"I thought they hibernated," said Willow, out loud. "Does she mean it's woken up?"

"What has?" asked Joren.

"Black beast," Rock explained. "Wildcat noticed it, so she's warning us. Even animal talkers can get caught out if they don't expect one."

"Ah, slink-guts! Not again," replied Joren. "Any of you feelin' dizzy, yet? Them monsters move fast."

Rock immediately began to scan the area around them with his talent. It had to be the same beast the Green elders had been concerned about. There were no known beast territories anywhere near here. Yet even the Green had not expected a black beast to go roaming around in the middle of winter.

Those two elders had trusted Rock enough to ask his advice. That made him even more desperate to understand what was going on. To do that, he would have to animal talk, whatever the risk.

"No one rat-talk! Stay in the trees. No one go down!" It was Bee's voice. He was shouting across the distance from the other tree platform.

For a while after that, Rock stopped hearing with his ears. He was already animal talking, and the result was far worse than dizziness. Clenching his fists until his nails bit into his palms, he tried to focus on the rhythm of his own breathing. It was what the animal talker Old Jesty had once taught him to do if his talent unsteadied him. Yet the old man had not, to Rock's knowledge, ever met a black beast.

Once he could move his own limbs again, Rock straightened up. He saw that Willow was now down on hands and knees on the tree platform's floor. Close by, Hest looked concerned, but not so overcome.

Joren was between them, standing upright with one hand on Hest's shoulder. "Can it reach us up here?" he asked, meeting Rock's gaze.

That was exactly what Rock had been trying to work out. "I don't know," he replied. It was a struggle to speak through the force that pressed in at his thoughts, even now he was no longer animal talking. "We should wait... just wait for it to leave."

He wished he could go over and touch Willow. But the nearness of the beast kept him where he was, simply remembering to breathe.

"How is it having such an effect on your talents?" queried Joren. "Something like that slimevine?"

"More... more like a way of scaring rivals away," Rock managed to say. "Very big and very loud. Very... powerful. Worse if I animal talk... but still there even when I don't."

"Yes," he heard Willow agree, very quietly, from her place nearer the centre of the platform.

The beast came closer. Rock shut his eyes. Jesty had taught him this trick, too. At first the beast's influence strengthened, but Rock did not give in to the natural impulse to open his eyes. Without sight he was better able to look inside his own thoughts, working to keep them to himself.

Still with his eyes tightly shut, Rock waited for the rank animal smell and the taste of raw meat to subside. Yet the beast's distress still rushed around him like currents within storm winds. It must have previously returned to its own territory, intending to hibernate. Yet now, for some reason, it was awake and roaming too far again. The changed landscape, the cold and the snow had confused it. And there had been no easy prey since it had awoken.

Wildcat might know more about what had happened to the beast, but Rock could not spare any strength to rat-talk with her. Bee's warning had been sensible. If animal talking had increased the lie-cloud's effects, then rat-talking would surely do the same.

Rock felt someone touch his shoulder. Opening his eyes at last, he saw that Joren had come across the platform to join him, leaving Hest and Willow where they were.

"'Tis like the seasickness, I'm thinking," Joren said. "All three of you taken out of action fer th' present. Ye need t' shut yerselves inside, don't ye?"

Rock could only blink and stare back in agreement.

"Well, I'm sailin' this out. I don't get seasick, and I only hear through my ears. And I'm thinkin' you'd be safer away from the edge of th' platform. Let me help ye across t' be with Willow n' Hest, eh? Then I c'n keep an eye on all three of ye. If th' beast stomps right under this tree I don't want to see you fall out onto its back."

Rock allowed Joren to lead him the few steps to the centre of the platform. At last, he fell to his knees at Willow's side. She reached out to clutch his arms. Her eyes were shut tight. Rock had taught her Jesty's trick as soon as she had begun to learn animal talking.

Hest seemed more himself, although still clearly feeling the effects of the beast's presence. "Why can't we shut it out?" he said. "I'm not even an animal talker."

"Big," Rock heard Willow answer, with her teeth together.

Then another wave of animal distress washed around them. All Rock could do was shut his eyes and ride it. His own ears heard a roar. The platform shook beneath his knees. He felt huge limbs working. The beast walked on all fours. The branches of high trees brushed over the top of its back.

It used its sense of smell to search for food. Now it smelled several large creatures in a tree. Some of the creatures used an extra sense for better communication. The beast did not really care what senses they had. Soon, it would lift its front legs as high as the tree tops. Then it would be able to reach them.

Rock knew himself to be living meat. He was desperate. The lie-cloud was everywhere. He had lost all conscious control of his talent, inside the beast and outside of it.

NINETEEN – WILLOW

The tree and its platform shook. There was a thick, stinking smell. Everywhere, small twigs and dead leaves were falling. Willow opened her eyes and looked towards the edge. The black beast was there. Its outer fur hung in long, matted skeins that carried all kinds of snagged plants, some fresh, some long dried out. Its great snout pushed through the twigs above the level of the platform.

Willow tightened her grip on Rock's arms. He did not respond.

The beast turned its head sideways, cracking several branches. One dark, glistening eye now faced towards her. Willow understood that it was deliberately trying to view all four of the people cowering on the tree platform. Its eye was the size of Willow's closed fist. She dared not move.

Rock lifted his hands to cover his ears, forcing her to let go of his arms. Her own talent was shut away as tightly as possible. Yet the nearness of the beast still reached inside her thoughts.

Hest was only a few paces away from Willow. She saw him deliberately form his mouth into an angry snarl to mimic another big predator. It was a tactic that sometimes worked with bears, but usually only when backed up by a threat sent by an animal talker. Rock was in no state to help out just then.

Joren crouched a little way behind Hest. He had already pulled a long knife out of a sheath on his belt.

Suddenly, Joren leapt forward.

As he did so, Willow felt the beast's surprise, fear and anger. Its feelings forced inside her talent and she could not shut them out.

Joren pushed his knife straight into the beast's eye.

Only its head was level with the platform. The lower branches of the tree prevented it from easily lifting its claws. Keeping his grip on the knife, Joren even managed to pull the weapon out and jump backwards before the beast could snap its jaws at him.

Howling, the animal reared back. Branches snapped and leaves cascaded down as its head pulled away. Then its forelegs rose up. Willow saw claws longer than any belt knife slice through the air, missing Joren by just a couple of handspans. Joren hastily clambered further backwards until he was level with her. Rock now crouched with his arms covering his head. Willow could not even tell if he knew what was happening.

The beast tried to swipe again with its clawed paw. The claws got caught up in thick, tangled vines under the edge of the platform. Trying to free itself, the creature thrashed its head and body against the surrounding trees.

Willow's breathing came in tight gasps. The tree platform shuddered. She wrapped her arms around Rock, who still did not move.

At last, the beast succeeded in slicing its claws through the vines that had trapped it. Then it dropped down onto all fours. From somewhere close by her side, Willow heard Joren let out a long sigh. Turning her head to look, she saw him lower his forehead against Hest's chest.

The pressure of the lie-cloud against Willow's talent began to ease as the beast went crashing away through the Forest. Taking a big risk, she tried animal talking, just a little, to make sure it was not turning back.

Instantly caught up, she felt herself dragged along inside its huge, heavy body. Hot pain was bursting through its head, sharper than the hardest of broken sticks, even sharper than the claws of another black beast.

Then Hest's voice caught Willow's attention. He spoke loudly, close to her ear. "Willow, come back, come out. Willow, you're not hurt. It's the beast that's hurt. The pain's not yours. Can you hear me? Leave the flow. Come back."

Very slowly, Willow returned to herself. She began to feel her own skin and her own limbs, once more. Her knees were crushed hard against the wood of the tree platform, which was no longer shaking.

Opening her eyes into Hest's concerned gaze, she tried to smile, to show she was all right. Then she looked for Rock.

"He's right here," Hest said, as if he still heard her thoughts. "But he's deeper in than you were."

Rock was lying beside them. He appeared to be unconscious. Hest began talking to him in the same way he had done with her. Willow took Rock's wrist and felt for his pulse. She watched his chest, to be certain he was breathing. He did not respond to Hest's voice at all.

Willow found herself looking towards Joren. He sat cross-legged, cleaning his knife with a swatch of dried grass.

"The beast won't die," he said. "Don't you go thanking me or calling me clever. It's blind in one eye now, and pretty angry. More of a danger that ever it was before... to anyone else, at least. To us, less of a danger than it was, I'm thinking. Probably nothing's more dangerous than being eaten alive by an animal as big as a cottage."

Willow managed an uncertain smile. Then she returned all of her attention to Rock.

"He needs to remember," Hest told her. Gently taking hold of her hand, he then lay Willow's fingers across Rock's chest.

"Let your own pulse fall into your touch," he advised. "Remind him how it's done. A river reader taught me to do this, but animal talkers lost in talent must be pretty much the same."

"You mean he's lost in talent? Is he fried?" It was hard to get all the words out before her throat seemed to tighten.

"Probably not fried yet, though I haven't seen that happen to anyone else," Hest answered. He sounded calm, but Willow knew him very well. She could hear the fear he was attempting to hide. "But he is lost in talent. That I do know. So were you, but you came out quickly enough. Just keep on reminding him of his own body by touching him with yours."

Nothing in Willow's experience of healing had ever taught her about helping someone lost in talent. She had never even heard of such a thing until Hest had first mentioned it. Even then, she had thought it only affected water readers. Not until meeting the Forest Rats had she known it could happen to any talented person. Now, much too late, she wondered why none of them had ever said what to do if it happened.

She tried her best to follow Hest's instructions, willing the beat of her own heart towards Rock through the tips of her fingers. Once Hest was satisfied she understood, he left her to it and stepped closer to Joren.

"Thank you anyway," Willow heard Hest say to his lover.

"Like a great enormous fish attacking our boat," she heard Joren explain. "Times like that, all you can do is survive. Or not. I hoped to scare it off. It were hungry. It would've eaten us, I'm thinkin'. Didn't need talent to tell that."

"Not having a talent was useful back then," commented Hest. "Not having a talent is your talent."

Willow began stroking her fingertips across the skin of Rock's hands and wrists. With half of her attention, she continued to hear the other two talking.

"Eh, well, that n' a decent skill with a roll-fish blade close up." Joren was agreeing with Hest.

Hest gave a shaky kind of laugh. "A roll-fish blade," he said. "Is that what it is? I never knew that."

"Roll-fish are tasty." Neamis's voice came as a surprise. Bewildered, Willow looked round to find that Neamis was clambering onto the tree platform to join them. He was followed by Bee.

"I were good at diving for roll-fish, once," Joren answered Neamis. "'Have t' be fast. Straight in n' out. Catch 'em before they even notice. Are you two alone, or are there others coming up."

"Others waiting below," Neamis replied. "No more room up here."

He and Bee came over to look at Rock, but they could not add anything to Hest's suggestions for bringing him back to consciousness.

"Lucky for all of you there was a silent one here." Bee spoke softly, shaking his head as he continued to study Rock. "Rats have been killed by black beasts, before. We all owe thanks to you, Joren."

"Th' beast is more of a danger now it's injured," Joren replied.

"But we all still live," said Neamis. "Wildcat is now tracking black beast. Garnet is tracking Wildcat, to be sure she does not go too close. They will rat-call if beast goes near greenhomes."

"Stay safe, Wildcat," Willow murmured out loud, even though her friend could not hear her. Willow still felt much too shaken to try rat-talking.

The other Rats all agreed that Rock should not be moved until he came round of his own accord. Those on the ground fetched some mats and a fur blanket. Hest and Joren hauled these up to the platform with a slackvine rope. They made Rock a comfortable bed and settled him on to it.

Willow stayed by his side the whole time. She paid little attention when Bee returned to the ground. Nor when Wildcat and Garnet climbed up to the tree platform, some time later. She hardly dared to look away from Rock's face for even a moment. He was tense. His eyes moved under his closed eyelids. Sometimes, muscles twitched under the skin around his mouth.

The others on the platform huddled together, talking quietly. At first, their voices were too low for Willow to hear. Then, without making any conscious effort to follow what they were saying, she began to take in snatches of their conversation.

"A black beast's sense of smell is incredible, as well as its talent-sense, so we couldn't go close," Wildcat reported. "Did Rock really try and talk to it? He's an idiot."

Wildcat must have turned away, so Willow missed what came after that. She was not sure she wanted to know, anyway. Rock might be dying. Right now, there was no point in wondering if it was his own fault or not.

"Beast has gone far away now," said Neamis. "Horrible thing. I will not mind if I never go close to another one."

"Strange that it's here," added Garnet. "Its own territory is very far away. It should be sleeping there."

Willow never stopped watching Rock's face, but his condition did not change. Eventually, Garnet came over to squat beside her. The woman's wolf-smell seemed to push away the lingering stink from the black beast.

"You and he are mates," Garnet said, quietly. "In that way, you are more of a wolf than I am, tree speaker. Real wolves usually mate for life."

"I don't know..." Willow had to swallow before she could continue, "...how long our lives are going to be." She lifted her gaze to meet Garnet's stare.

Then Garnet laid a hand on Rock's forehead. She continued to face Willow, but her eyes had lost focus.

Long moments later, Garnet spoke. "I could not pull him back. Watch the way he breathes. The rhythm is not his own."

"Is it the beast's?"

"Not quite. Some echo of it. He is a city boy. His body is not used to living to Forest rhythms."

"How do you do that? That kind of healing touch? Is it talent?" Willow asked her.

"How? I do not know. I just do it. I'm not sure it is talent, but I can use talent at the same time. You know when plants are sick, don't you? You know how to check if the cause is too little water or too much, or that a passing animal peed on the roots. I just do the same as that, but different. You try it with Rock, now. He needs you. You stay with him tonight."

Standing upright, Garnet then turned to the others, adding, "The rest of us should go, now."

"We can't leave Willow on her own up here to look after him," Hest argued. "No. She needs us."

Without answering him, the wolf woman went to the edge of the platform and began to climb down. Wildcat immediately copied her.

Hest looked as though he would refuse to follow. Willow saw Neamis whisper to him, too quietly for her to hear. Then, as Neamis began to climb down, Hest stepped towards her.

"The other Rats think you can bring him back, Willow," he said. "Garnet, especially. They all think it's best to leave you and Rock alone with Forest. They say you're more likely than anyone else to be able to get him back. Make sure you don't get lost, too. You've got to remember yourself. And... Garnet says the best way of doing that is to keep in touch with your own skin. You'll probably want some privacy if you have to be naked, so we're going to leave you alone to get on with it. But we'll hear if you shout out loud. Or if you rat-shout."

"Be naked?" Willow almost screamed. "Hest, what are you talking about? Have you all gone mad? I don't know how to do this! What if I can't?"

"Don't get forest-lost," Hest repeated. "Remember yourself. Garnet seems to think it helps to take your clothes off. She says the cold will help... at least for a while, until it numbs your skin instead. Maybe you shouldn't do it for long. Or you could try another way. The other Rats seem to think you should do whatever feels best. They say there's no one way to get back someone who's forest-lost, but... sometimes... it's been known."

"Joren never suggested taking your clothes off when you were lost in water in that cave on Big Drop."

"But I wasn't lost. Not really. Willow..."

"Yes." Her voice came out sounding very small.

"Good luck. You'll get him back. I know you will."

Without saying anything else, Hest then left with Neamis. Willow was alone in the tree with Rock.

The floor of the tree platform creaked when she moved around on it, but it was secure. Small twigs shuddered in the air all around whenever the wind blew, but the platform and the thick branches it was fixed to did not even tremble.

Each gust was followed by a sound like falling rain, as dry leaves were released from high branch tips. Then there would be a moment's delay before the leaves pattered onto the floor of the tree platform or down onto the ground below. The worst of the chilling wind was already blocked out by a partly finished wall of interwoven sticks. Rock had been making that wall when the beast came.

Feeling hopeless, Willow pushed aside the fur blanket and undid Rock's jacket and shirt. Spreading her fingers across his skin, she touched long-healed skin dance scars on his chest. She wondered if the others expected him to die anyway, but had not wanted to say so.

Yet, they had seemed to think that using her talent to try and reach Rock would put her at risk getting forest-lost along with him. She did not think they would encourage her to do that unless there was some chance of success. Resting her head against his ribs, she listened, and _listened_ , as Garnet had suggested.

Rock's heart was beating. He was breathing. Yet the rhythms were subtly wrong. Not too fast or too slow, but uneven, anxious. Pushing deeper with her talent, Willow reached for Rock's mind.

She came up against Forest. Huge, violent, messy, growing, changing Forest. For several heartbeats, it filled her awareness completely. Then some instinct for survival brought her the memory of Hest's words, _Don't get forest-lost_. Lifting her head from Rock's chest, she took a deep gasping breath and pulled clear. Trying to focus her eyes on the wooden floor of the tree platform, she came slowly back to herself.

If only someone else could tell her more about what to do. If only Rinnet was there to ask. Or Yenna, if Yenna had not died. Or Sparkle, who was tree speaker for the Rats of the Bees' Nest. One of those older people might know something Willow had not yet learned. Syme Deadlander was not a tree speaker, but he might know how to stop someone being forest-lost. Yet none of those people were within Willow's reach.

"Garnet!" she called out in despair. "I still don't know what to do!" Without even meaning to, she rat-called at the same time.

An answer came, tinged with the wild, with a flavour of wolves and ancient trees. Garnet's rat-called reply was that Willow must trust her own skin. She seemed to say that the skin-touch of his mate could be enough to remind Rock of his own body, but only if his mate's talent was strong enough to reach him, wherever he had gone.

Then a shout reached Willow's ears from somewhere below. "Tree speaker!" came Garnet's voice, "Be yourself inside Forest!"

"I don't understand!" Willow shouted back. But there was no response. She sensed Garnet had already moved away.

Willow fought against the feeling of despair that had started filling her up as soon as Garnet left. Now, there was no help. No one else to ask for advice. No one else here but Rock. And his mind was lost in Forest.

"Well," she said out loud to him, knowing he would not hear. "So, I'm all you've got, sorry."

Suddenly, she remembered how the dance pole at the Green's skin dance had pulled her back before she lost herself in her own talent. If the fallen branch of an injured tree could do such a thing, then surely a tree speaker could do the same, if only she could work out how.

"Well, I am a tree speaker," she said aloud, hoping to give herself confidence. "Forest is full of trees. I'm used to trees, I can live inside them. I can do that. Rock, I'm coming to find you. I'm your mate."

Tree speaking was made easier by physical touch. Putting together Hest's suggestion with Garnet's, Willow began to understand why the Rats expected her to take off her clothes. As well as helping to prevent her getting forest-lost, too, skin-to-skin touch might strengthen her talent as she used it to go after Rock.

Before she could change her mind, Willow undressed. Trying to ignore the immediate bite of the cold air, she then struggled to open Rock's jacket, shirt and trousers without pulling too much clothing out from underneath his body. She even took off his shoes.

Her own skin tightened as it chilled, shocking her into awareness of every part of her body at once.

She lay down on top of Rock, skin to skin. There was a gentle roughness where one of his old dance scars rubbed against her more recent one. The feel of cold air on her back was already close to pain. Using that sensation like an anchor, she began to reach after him, as though tree speaking or animal talking.

He was stretched very thin. Forest was starting to obscure the flavour of his mind, so that Willow could only pick up sudden, brief tastes of him.

Twigs and dead leaves fell onto her shoulders, scratching and tickling. The physical sensations helped her to remember herself as she studied what came to her from Rock.

It gradually became clear that he was no longer with the beast. Instead, something about the beast's lie-cloud must have caused him to open up to the whole of the Forest. He was making no effort to separate himself from everything else. Willow guessed that was how he had resolved the pressure of being too close to an injured black beast. Now the beast was gone, but Rock could not stop.

Still pressing her own skin against Rock's, Willow was mentally shouting. Not only a rat-shout, but a tree speaking, animal talking, desperate call of a friend and lover and living-partner all at once. She was aware of clutching his arms with her hands and squeezing her knees against his thighs.

Finally, something of him seemed to notice her. But the change was slow, and her own body was shivering violently. Gently lifting her talent away from Rock, Willow knew she must quickly get them both warm. Otherwise, they would both freeze to death. Forest would just as comfortably absorb their bodies as their minds.

The sky above the trees was darkening fast. It was already impossible to judge Rock's condition by the look of his skin, but his chest lifted as he breathed.

Willow dressed herself first, so as to have all the more strength to help Rock. Then, as she replaced his clothing, the rhythm of his breathing seemed to change, becoming less chaotic. Taking one of his hands between her own, she warmed it gently. When it felt less deathly chilled, she worked on his other hand, then each of his feet, before replacing his shoes. Removing her jacket for a second time, she laid that over him as well as the fur blanket.

At last, Willow sat back to wait. Just a few moments later, with startling suddenness, Rock opened his eyes and drew in a sharp breath.

Attempting to sit up, Rock flung his arms out awkwardly. For several moments he looked around without focussing. When his gaze steadied, his dark eyes settled on Willow. She placed her hands on his arms.

"I'm here," she said. Her voice trembled. "We're alive. We're all alive. The others are on the ground. You and I are still in the tree. The black beast is gone."

"Alive," he repeated, very quietly.

Reaching for her, Rock wrapped his arms around her shoulders. She held him tightly in return, and they stayed like that for a very long time.

"Was I nearly fried?" he finally asked.

"I think so, yes." It was hard to admit. "We should stay up here 'till morning. You shouldn't try to go down the ladder in the dark. But it's going to be very cold."

"That's good," Rock answered. "That black beast was hot with anger. The pain..."

"I know. I felt it too, though not as much as you. It was too much. The Forest took you. Or you took yourself there. For protection. It must have been the only way you could survive it."

"I didn't come back though did I? Not 'till I heard you calling. Did the Green help you do that?"

"They're hibernating, remember? Garnet gave me the idea. Then I think I learned to do it. I had to. It was that or lose you."

"Forest-lost?" he whispered. "But a tree speaker came to find me."

He was smiling as he closed his eyes.

TWENTY– ROCK

Someone had provided cured animal pelts to use as blankets. Rock understood this to mean he had been very ill. Rats tried never to waste any part of an animal they had killed for meat, but they killed very few. Large furs were especially precious, used only by those most in need of them.

Wood Wasp had lifted Rock over his shoulder and then got him down to the ground from the tree platform. Then Rock had slept, right there on the ground, while others had constructed a shelter around him. He remembered hearing their voices. Garnet and Wood Wasp, Bee, Hest, Joren, Neamis and Wildcat had all been there. And Willow had never left Rock's side. Even as Wood Wasp had climbed down the tree-ladder, Rock remembered catching sight of Willow's face above them. She must have followed just a few rungs behind.

For the past two days, Willow had lived with him in this shelter. It was made out of a frame of sticks covered with leaf-mats and packed snow. Hest and Neamis had regularly brought them hot food and drinks, carried all the way from the cook fires on the deadland. The clay pots had been thickly wrapped in layers of dry leaves, then packed in carrying baskets lined with mosses.

The warmth and comfort had eventually allowed Rock to start feeling like himself again. Slowly, his memory of the beast had begun to soften.

It had been so hungry. If it tried to go back into hibernation it would never wake up. And it had known that. Because of the harvest, the beast's usual territory had shrunk. It had been struggling to survive, knowing its chances were impossibly small.

Now Rock sat beside Willow on his bed of furs. They had been eating baked roots, mashed up with dried berries and seeds.

"I can work today," Rock announced. Although he still ached all over and his head hurt. "What's happening where?"

Willow looked carefully at his face, so he made every effort to seem alert and full of energy, in spite of how he felt.

"All right," she agreed, at last. "You know those yellow berries the Rats call squishers? Bee found a whole bush-full under a floon tree. But he was carrying a bundle of deadwood at the time and he had to deal with that first. He's told me how to find the place."

It sounded like Willow had already decided Rock was ready to get back to work, and discussed it with Bee, either in person or by rat-talking. Rock found that he did not really mind. The encounter with the beast had left him feeling so weak it was a relief not to have to think for himself, just yet. Perhaps the gentle effort of berry picking would improve his aches.

After leaving the comfort of the shelter, he felt awkward and stiff. For the first few steps, he had to clutch at Willow's shoulder. They went on very slowly. Walking became easier as he loosened up. Although Willow kept close and watched him every moment, it was not long before he was able to continue unsupported. Luckily, the floon tree was not far.

Floon leaves died before winter, like those of many other trees. But they remained attached to the branches, eventually weighted down with snow. Having located the tree, Rock and Willow settled themselves under its shelter. The squishers had dried out and then frozen on their twigs, well hidden from birds. It was easy to hold a small basket underneath the branches with one hand while knocking the berries free with the other. Nevertheless, Rock soon became tired and uncomfortable.

"It's food that matters most," Willow said. She had obviously noticed he was unhappy, and was trying to encourage him. "If we have enough food stored away, we can stand the cold. That's what I've been told by Rats who've already lived through Forest winters."

Rock felt too grumpy to reply. His nose was running and he had to wipe it on his sleeve. He knew what they were doing was important. However, it was certainly not fun.

Hoping for some kind of distraction, he set his basket down and stepped out from under the floon leaves. Animal talking, very gently at first, he used his talent for the first time since the black beast had come.

There were an increasing number of birds around. Now that the squishers had been revealed, birds and small animals would soon eat all the fruit Rock and Willow did not take away. A whole family of mice hiding under the bend of a tree root would have any berries that fell into the snow and leaf litter. The leaf litter itself was alive with spiders, beetles, and other creatures, many of them very small indeed. There were no large animals close by, although Rock was aware of deer, wolves, and others, at a distance.

Rock's dripping nose claimed his attention before he could begin to worry about black beasts. He stopped animal talking in order to sneeze. Only then did he notice what had changed. There had been no need to block out the Forest. He still felt it, vast and powerful and loud, but he had used his talent _through_ it.

Willow had followed him out from under the floon leaves. She was now looking at him closely.

"It's different," he said. "Even more different than after the skin dance."

There was no need to tell her that he had been animal talking, she would have seen it in his face.

"You mean it's just kept on improving since then? Or is it something to do with the black beast?"

"I'm not sure," he replied.

Then he tried animal talking again. Slowly at first, afraid the Forest would push back at him if he stretched too far. Yet it did not. Cautiously, Rock then tried some rat-talking.

Merel was asleep and dusk dreaming with the Green. Garnet, sharp, lean and graceful, seemed to be hunting, probably in Wildcat's company. Rock felt a kind-of nudge from Garnet, as if she had felt him searching but there was nothing she wanted to tell him at that moment. Then he came across Bee and received a flash of what felt like relief.

Willow spoke out loud. "Durnas says this is her fifth winter here. But she says lots of people don't even survive their first one, and it's only luck she's lasted so long."

"I nearly died," he stated, just wanting to let her know he was aware of the fact.

Many times, people had warned them both about all the dangers of the Forest. The average lifespan of a Forest Rat was probably even shorter than that of a harvest worker.

After finishing off their berry collecting, they gathered up the full baskets.

"How tired are you?" asked Willow. "There's space for these in the second rime tree cache.

"How far are we from there?" He did not want to admit how tired he felt after such a short time away from his sheltered bed.

"A straight walk over flat ground. No big snowdrifts. And no further than the way we've already come from your sleeping shelter. But we can go straight back there now if you'd rather."

"No. Let's get these stored, first. I'm fed up of sleeping."

His headache had begun to lift and he thought it was due to the exercise. In spite of the shaky feeling in his knees, Rock managed to carry a basket of berries all the way to the cache. There, they found Durnas, who was throwing out part-rotted nuts for mice or squirrels to find.

Durnas insisted that Rock must sit down on a low branch that she had covered over with a woven mat from inside the cache.

"I thought you had a good chance of surviving," she said, "You'd skin danced with Green and could rat-talk, so you weren't as weak as some. But that doesn't mean we weren't afraid for you."

"You mean his chances were better because he can rat-talk?" Willow asked. "Or is it that the skin dance taught us to live inside the voice of the Forest better?"

"Both," said Durnas. "We can't seem to teach it, though we've tried. Green skin dancing's known to speed it up. But the Green are careful about who they invite. And, anyway, not all Rats ever get close to any Green." She gave a long sigh. "Other groups of Forest Rats don't all have local Green to help them like we do at Tall Trees Side. But even here, many Rats die, one way or another. Silent ones are more often poisoned or stung to death, and they're easy prey for bears and tree-cats. Talented Rats are easy prey for slimevines and black beasts, or they get forest-lost. And any kind of Rat can get sick, or starve, or get injured, or just get frozen in the winter."

"But you all stay here in winter," Rock stated. He was still curious about that.

"Hmm, yes," Durnas replied. "Well, those tree speakers and animal talkers who don't get fried when they first arrive, they start to get more used to the voices of Forest. Even stone listeners do get fried sometimes. Anyone with a talent. But the longer you can last out here, the less likely that is. If you leave Forest for any length of time and then come back, you've got to get used to it all over again. The Forest voice hits you just like it did the very first time you felt it. So that's why Wanderers don't stay long when they visit, and why Rats don't like to leave, once they've lived here a few moons."

"But Durnas," Willow said, loudly. She sounded furious. "Why didn't anyone tell us any of that when we first arrived? Why are you only saying it now?"

"Would it have helped you to know?" Durnas asked. Something in the way she responded made Rock think they were not the first Rats to be having this conversation. "You already knew Forest was dangerous, but still you came here. Why?"

"It... because it called to us," Willow answered softly.

"So it was already inside you a bit," said Durnas. "And now it's in you more. And when Forest gets inside of us, we survive... or not. The change is quick and dangerous for some. Slow and painless for others. That's all. No amount of talking about it will make any difference to what happens."

Both Willow and Durnas then insisted that Rock had to rest for the remainder of that day. But he continued to regain his physical strength quickly after that. He soon helped to dismantle his own shelter, brushing the furs clean for the next Rat in need of them.

Working alongside other animal talkers, he continued to help guard food caches from hungry, non-hibernating creatures. It was not possible to lie to enquiring animals about the contents of the stores. However, they could usually be warned off with threats. Images of knives and spears looked enough like claws and teeth to scare most of them.

As the cold and dark increased, almost all plant life retreated into core wood and deep roots. Sometimes fresh green leaves could be gathered from beneath soft snow. Or old fallen nuts could be dug out of deep leaf litter. Other food-gathering ceased, and stored food became essential. Nobody ate more than they needed to live through each day. Nobody burned more wood than was essential to avoid freezing to death. All the fires on the deadland were used for cooking or smoking food as well as providing warmth.

Rock and Willow switched their choices of shelter according to the conditions, as did most of the other Rats. When there were high winds, people slept in snow shelters on the forest floor. On still ice-nights, they often returned to the tree platforms.

Tall Trees Side became a winter meeting place for some of the Rats who had spent the summer in deep Forest, far from the harvest edge. Tree speakers returned from tending to plants they had secretly moved. Animal talkers came back from tracking and warning off creatures whose ranges were large and seasonal. The number of Rats living in and around Tall Trees Side grew from around twenty to nearer forty.

When there were no clouds in the sky above the leafless treetops, the short days of sunshine brought a new danger. Light reflected dazzlingly off white snow, causing snow-blindness. The effect was worst out on the deadland. At such times, if the moon was near-full, it could actually be easier to work at night. Afterwards, Rats slept in sunlight, enjoying the extra warmth.

Neamis and two other stone listeners, Dart and Riverweave, took Hest with them to investigate an underground cavern the Rats had apparently known about for ages. A large stone blocked the entrance, so that no one had been able to go inside. The place was not all that far from the harvest edge. Hest seemed to think the effect of the harvest on flows of water after heavy rain might have moved some of the earth from underneath the stone.

After studying it for several days, Hest and the three stone listeners rat-called that they were widening a crack that had already begun to split the stone. Hest talked liquid water into the crack, then waited for it to freeze, slowly widening the hole. Within four days, the stone listeners were able to shift the stone away from the cavern entrance. Then they explored the inside of the cavern.

The place turned out to be wonderfully suited to becoming a large winter shelter. There was even a natural chimney formed by a rock fissure, so the Rats could light a fire in there. On some of the walls, colonies of tiny plant-like creatures glowed faintly, providing extra light. It was not long before most of the Rats took to gathering at the cavern whenever they had no need to be outside.

Wildcat and Garnet were not among them, preferring the open air, however cold it was. But Wildcat still rat-talked many questions to Rock about his experience with the black beast. He would rather have answered her face to face. Mainly because he knew Willow was disappointed not to meet with her friend more often.

Neamis sometimes visited the cavern on his own. When he did, Rock knew, he always assured Willow that her friend was as well as any Rat could expect to be in the middle of a Forest winter.

One peaceful afternoon, Rock was drowsing near the cavern fire, with his back supported by a slope of stone. Willow was seated next to him, weaving dried plant stems to make a basket. Her hands now knew the pattern well enough to work in near-darkness. Neamis was close by. Other Rats were discussing their plans for the coming spring.

"First thing will be to find out who's still here," Durnas commented. "Early spring, before the Harvesters get back, all of us are rat-talking as much as we can. No one ever agrees on what to do after that."

"Are we not planning now? Do you say we're wasting our time?" asked Harret. Rock could not see her, but he had learned to recognise her voice. She was an animal talker.

Wood Wasp explained further. "Durnas means there are other groups of Rats with different plans to ours. The Yellow Lakes for instance. They hunt out Harvesters like game animals, killing anyone they catch."

"If Harvesters don't kill them first," someone else commented. "It's a waste of life on both sides."

"Or there's the Tall Pines," Durnas added, "They like to go for the big machines – tangling the soil dredging nets and setting fire to earth movers. Harvesters know that, of course. So they send whole teams of workers into Forest after them."

Rock had now rat-talked with some these distant people, none of whom he had ever met in person. It was much more difficult than rat-talking with someone you knew well.

"There's other fighters. Lots of them," Wood Wasp continued. "Rats who think they can form up and attack the harvest runs with weapons. They want battles." His tone of voice suggested this was not something he approved of.

"And you are peaceful Rats." Neamis put in, quickly. "My friend, who called herself Flight – who could far-talk – she chose you to talk to, not those others, for this reason. Are there other peaceful Rats?"

"Mm, quite a number," Wood Wasp agreed. "But spread far."

Rock had been trying to imagine the size of the Forest. Its edges might be slowly shrinking as Harvesters advanced, but it was still huge. No one person could possibly have explored all of it. Although the Forest Rats were thinly scattered, most stayed close to the edges, so as to be near the harvest. There seemed no way to rat-talk with anyone located outside the Forest. Flight's talent of far-talking had been unique, as far as anyone could tell.

"If only we all could far-talk!" Willow spoke out, suddenly. Her thoughts must have been following a similar pattern to Rock's own. "Like Flight," she went on. "If we could talk to people everywhere, Rats and others."

"Yes, so we've said many times," Durnas agreed, although she sounded slightly irritated. Rock guessed this was an old argument. "If we could do that, Rats could fight with information instead of force."

"You have tried?" asked Neamis.

"Much," Durnas answered. "Of course we did. Soon as we learned what Flight could do. But we could only ever answer her when she'd called out to us, first. You know that, Neamis. But there are other ways to spread information. I say we should work out ways of using them. City people have their news-sheets. Villages have pack-traders and other visitors..."

"And both have Wanderers," Neamis interrupted her.

"Yes, they do," agreed Wood Wasp. "But, paper and print aren't forest things. And Wanderers and other travellers take much time to move from place to place."

Conversation continued to flow around the subjects of far-talking and rat-talking for some time. Rock listened, but he was tired, and feeling drowsy. He already knew much of what Neamis was saying.

Neamis had told Rock that Flight's talent was so rare, Wanderers only ever expected one person in a generation to be able to do it. They had obviously known about rat-talking, too, and kept both secrets among themselves. Wanderers had been visiting the Forest since before there had been any Rats, or any Harvesters. The talent of far-talking was therefore older than that of rat-talking.

"What about the Green?" Rock said, out loud. He spoke very quietly, so that only Willow was likely to hear him. "Can they far-talk? Or only inside Forest?"

"Oh, how awful," she replied in a whisper, "I see. You mean the ones we rescued? Outside the Forest they could have been cut off from all the other Green. I never thought of it like that before."

Some of the Rats were still asking Neamis about what he remembered of Flight's abilities. Neamis did not seem to find it distressing to talk about her. Yet, he offered little new information. Even having been close to Flight since childhood, he could not explain how she had done what no one else could.

Rock looked across at the Wanderer, who opened out his hands in a gesture of helplessness. It was too dark in the cavern to see his expression clearly.

"It was who Flight was, I think," Neamis said, then. "She listened very well. Always other people and their ways and differences were interesting to her. Me, I tried, many, many times to far-talk like her. It would be a help to the Green. To the Rats. To everyone. I cannot. I cannot far-talk like Flight did. Perhaps no one can."

"And did you and Flight meet the Forest Rats before she far-talked with them?" Willow asked. Her voice was quiet, but Rock could tell she was too curious to let the subject drop just yet.

Thinking back, Rock could not remember Neamis appearing to recognise any of the Forest Rats when the Green had first brought them together. Now the Wanderer appeared to be counting on his fingers.

"Seven seasons ago, yes. We did meet some Rats of this place, yes," Neamis answered Willow. "All those Rats are now dead, except for Bee. Since Wanderers' visit, Flight far-talked with Forest Rats every three or four moons. Always Bee. Later, also Durnas and Wood Wasp. Bee taught those to her after the others died, so I did not ever see them until I came into Forest with you."

It was clear that far-talking did not entirely depend on all of those involved having met in person. Allowing his thoughts to drift, Rock became aware of something important, hidden at the back of his mind. He could not quite grasp it. There was something to do with his own experience that mattered here. The idea would not emerge clearly enough to put into words.

Just then, Willow repeated what she had often said to him in private. "Tree speaking's a sort of translation, isn't it?" she said to the group in general.

"Oh yes, definitely. And animal talking," agreed someone Rock could not see from where he sat. He thought the voice was that of a girl only recently arrived at Tall Trees Side.

"So's rat-talk, Irin," said Harret. "You'll understand as you get better at it. It's easier to translate from the thoughts of a person who's not so different from yourself."

Rock made an effort to remember that the new girl's name was Irin, and she was a tree speaker, presumably one of those who had spent summer deeper inside Forest.

Now, a silent one, named Finlinit, began speaking. "So's any kind of listening, ain't it, though?"

The rest of the conversation dropped away suddenly, as though he had caught everyone by surprise. Finlinit had a badly-healed broken leg, which he now shifted using both hands, groaning out loud as he did so.

"Words," he went on, apparently well used to ignoring the pain of his leg. "I use a word... tree, say... or river. You hear my word and you think you know what I mean. But do you think of exactly the same tree I see in my head when I speak it? Or the very same river? A word for a thing is different to the real thing, ain't it? So you have to translate my meaning out of my words."

"Yes," Willow said into the silence that followed. "You're right Finlinit. I see it. With the talents, we do something almost the same as that. Just not using any words."

Rock had often wondered how much his animal talking was influenced by what went on in his own head, rather than anything belonging to the animals outside it. When he had tried to discuss this with other animal talkers, some had agreed there was no possible way of being sure. Others had laughed and told him not to worry himself about it. But all of them had seemed to think it was healthy to feel doubt.

Now, he knew that all of this had something to do with the idea floating under the surface of his thoughts. Still, he could not quite catch it.

His body claimed his attention instead. He needed to pee and his arms and legs had become cramped and painful from sitting against the stone of the cavern wall for so long.

"Got to pee," he whispered to Willow as he got to his feet.

Outside, it was too cold to stand around. Having managed a very fast pee under a snow-dusted creepvine, he walked smartly in no particular direction. It felt good to stretch his limbs for a few moments, in spite of the weather.

Some distance from the cavern entrance, Rock came to a narrow gap between some leafless wingloss trees. Behind them was a pond, fed by a small stream. The smell of a large stag reached him from that direction, just as his talent also told him it was there. Approaching the frozen water, he was soon able to see the animal standing in shadow. It lifted its head to look at Rock, but did not move to retreat or to attack.

Nostrils trembled. Dark eyes glinted. A pulse twitched beneath the shorter fur at the front of its neck. Keeping a safe distance away in case it changed its mind, Rock offered a greeting, making clear he was not in the mood for hunting. The stag lowered its head towards the pond.

At first, Rock thought it would ignore him and take a drink. But it called out to his talent, rather impatiently. For several heartbeats, he stared at it in confusion. Then, finally, he understood what was wrong.

The edge of the pond was surrounded by thick garlands of stinging mistweed. The stream bank was almost completely covered over with it. Although the plant's leaves were killed by frost and it was dormant, its tiny stinging needles remained along every dried-up stem and tendril. These needles fell away easily. Caught in clothing or fur, they could work their way through to the skin and cause a rash that lasted many days.

The Rats regularly collected water from the pool. When they did, they always used a forked pole to pull a patch of mistweed out of the way. Rock had assumed the stag must have followed the Rats' well-trampled route to clear water. However, there was a strong wind that day. Looking more carefully, Rock could see that all the cleared mistweed had blown back over the gap. The stag could not break through the ice without getting caught in the mistweed, or stepping over it and out onto the ice itself.

There were several branched poles leaning against a wide tree trunk. Using one of these, Rock quickly pushed the loose mistweed aside again. When he was done, the stag immediately went forward. Cracking the ice with one hoof, then dropping its head to drink, it communicated relief and gratitude.

Rock was slightly embarrassed at not having understood how to help straight away. As he returned to the cavern, a different thought then came to him effortlessly. It was as though he had needed to turn away, then look back from a different angle. At last, he finally got hold of the idea that had been hidden from him before.

Even though a forked pole was a lot like an antler, the stag could not use it. The tool was so familiar to Rock and the other Rats, he had almost forgotten its importance. Even if this stag had not already shed his antlers, it would never have considered pushing them into stinging mistweed. They were covered in skin. And Rock had failed to understand the problem until he had looked at the situation from the animal's point of view.

Inside the cavern, he waited impatiently for a break in the conversation. People were still arguing about whether far-talking could ever be done again, now that Flight was gone.

At last, there was a moment in which he could make himself heard.

"Using all talents involves two-way communication, right?" he called out. "The animal, plant, stone, whatever – talks and we listen. But they won't talk to us if we don't listen carefully." He looked at Willow, hoping she would back him up. "You knew that, back in Warner. Remember Druse?"

"Of course I remember her," she answered slowly. Then, for the benefit of all the other listeners, she added, "Druse was a woman in my home village. She was set against the talents, but there were rumours she'd always wished she had one. She was always causing trouble for my mother and grandmother. They were both tree speakers. They said the plants wouldn't talk to Druse because she wouldn't listen to them properly."

There were murmurs all around, as other Rats remembered similar people they had known.

"So, if we don't listen, we can't hear," Rock continued his argument loudly, smiling slightly as he realised some might think he was referring to the present situation. "But its more than that isn't it? Even when the communication works, and we do hear, we've still got to translate what we've heard into information we can understand."

He waited to make sure everyone agreed with this. No one contradicted him. He was really only repeating what had already been said.

"So," he continued, "we can't do that translation without some sort of previous knowledge of the thing we're communicating with. You need to be interested in plants to be a tree speaker. You have to care about animals to be an animal talker. And everyone knows stone listening can only be done by someone very patient, because stones talk so slowly. You've got to be interested enough to wait around long enough, right Neamis?"

"Quite right," the Wanderer agreed.

"Forest interests me, though," Finlinit put in, raising his voice as though he was annoyed. "And the Green, too. People interest me."

Other silent ones spoke up in agreement with him, though Joren was not in the cavern that day. For a moment, Rock thought he had lost everyone's attention.

"I know," he answered quickly, "And the Green and Forest do communicate with you, don't they? And you listen well. Just because you're silent doesn't mean you don't hear them, right? But when the Green want to make you understand, they make gestures, don't they?"

"Aye, and their faces." Finlinit admitted.

"Like another language, then," Rock guessed. "You said it yourself, earlier, and I've been thinking about it. It's very useful, too. You might learn some things that way that I can't understand from hearing the Green in my thoughts. Sometimes your way is probably clearer than mine."

"And we aren't as good at interpreting the Green's gestures and the way their faces move, because we don't have to try," added Willow. She sounded surprised, as though she had never considered that before.

Finlinit huffed, but he did not argue anymore.

"So then," concluded Rock, at last. "What if far-talking's just another, even more different, language? And maybe it depends on understanding the person we're trying to reach. Understanding them really, really well, and being interested in them. If it did, then it would be those of us who can really imagine themselves inside the heads of other people who would be best at it. Neamis already told us Flight was interested in other people. I just didn't see exactly what he meant until now."

"I think I can see that," said Willow. "You don't often say so much in one go. You must have been thinking this out for ages."

Rock decided not to try and explain about the stag. That was something he could tell her later on, when they were alone.

"So," Willow continued, "do you think we can learn to get better at it. Flight obviously did it naturally. But does that really mean none of us can ever do it?"

He had no answer to give. Nor, it seemed, did anyone else. No one spoke much for a while.

Eventually, Neamis asked, "Rock, you are animal talker. Black beast is one animal no one speaks with. Yet I think you did it. How did you learn?"

"I..." he swallowed, then tried again to reply. "I felt the beast's pain, yes. I don't know why I tried, really. Unless... well the Green elders had told me so much about the beasts and the Green beast trainers. I was just curious, and I didn't think of the danger until it was too late. The beast wanted to eat us. We'd be dead now if Joren hadn't attacked it."

He could hear a few of the Rats muttering curses against the beast, and against black beasts in general. Although none of those he heard were animal talkers.

"No!" he called out, desperately wanting to make sure everyone understood. "There wasn't any right or wrong in what the black beast did. Only what happened. It was just being itself. It's part of Forest just as we are. You all know that. But then... then beast tried to kill me through talent, inside my head. Even that wasn't wrong from the beast's own viewpoint. It defends itself that way, and it was being attacked."

He paused, but no one else spoke. Perhaps everyone was lost in their own thoughts.

Breaking the silence, Rock went on.

"It was stupid to animal talk to it, Neamis. I didn't really learn how to do anything new. I just did something no other animal talker's been stupid enough to try. You'd warned me not to and you were right. I just didn't listen. The only thing I learned was... when it went for my talent, I ended up scattering myself in Forest trying to get away. I didn't mean to. It was the shock, I think. And if Willow hadn't pulled me back, I'd be dead now. I'd be fried."

"Yer not, though," said Finlinit, sounding quite irritatingly cheerful. "So did yer learn anything about Forest, then, while ye were in there?"

Rock thought about that for a moment. Then he tried to explain.

"I felt... I saw... something about the Forest... all the different things all inside it together. It's impossible to understand them all, but that doesn't mean they're not important. So now I don't... the voice of the Forest doesn't seem to get in the way when I use talent like it did before."

"And so your talent's settled in Forest now. Is that all?" asked one of the tree speakers, whose name Rock had forgotten. "I reckon beastie just gave it t' yer faster than is usual. As t' far-talking beyond Forest. I reckon ye may be right, but ye still can't do it any more than th' rest of us, can ye?"

"No," Rock had to admit.

"I think that is not possible," said Neamis. "Many Wanderers have tried. Even with help from Flight, they could not."

TWENTY-ONE – WILLOW

The cavern uncovered by Hest and the stone listeners was comfortable, but there was still outdoor work to be done. One afternoon, Willow and Joren had both decided to make up a few stem-ropes, so they worked together.

To make the ropes, they stretched and braided the long stems of a water plant. The stems were pulled out from icy streams in winter, when they were leafless. They had to be used while still damp and pliable. Then, once the finished ropes dried out, they would remain very strong for many seasons.

Gathering the stems had already left Willow's hands stinging with cold. Nearing the end of her first rope, her palms were now blistered. With a loud sigh, she sat back to rest.

Joren did not stop twisting and twining the dripping stems on the ground in front of him. "Still glad you came?" he asked.

"I'm not in the mood for joking," Willow replied. "Oh, bulls balls, I'm tired."

Joren looked across at the long, narrow basket of gathered stems. "Three more ropes to go, I reckon," he said. "I c'n finish them, if you want to go in the cavern t' get warm."

"No. You must be just as tired as I am. I'll finish this one and do one more. You can do the other two. I'll be all right." To prove it, she began working again, ignoring the agony of her hands.

"It were a serious question," Joren said. "D' you wish you hadn't come to Forest?"

"Of course not. Even this... I'd never seen these stem-weeds before I came here. I've met so many new plants. So many I don't even have names for, but I've still learned to know them. It's not just the rat-work and trying to stop the harvest, Joren. It's being here. Inside the Forest, being part of it."

She had spoken without thinking and was surprised by her own answer. The question had shaken out feelings she had not even known were inside her.

"Aye. It's the same fer me," Joren agreed, surprising her even more.

"Did you never feel like this about the sea?" she asked him.

"No. I breathe air, don't I? It's hard for a person t' be inside sea and stay alive. Though seals breathe air and live in water. So do some of the big fishes. No. It may be hard t' stay alive here, too, but I like it better than in a boat on the sea."

Having completed the rope he had been working on, Joren got to his feet and began pulling more weed stems from the basket. Sorting through them, he said, "So, what d' you think of this far-talk everyone's been going on about? Reckon anyone will ever do it like Neamis's friend Flight did?"

"I wish we could all do it," Willow answered. "And I wish Flight was alive to tell us how it's done."

"I don't reckon silent ones can ever learn it. Oh, I heard all about Rock and Finlinit in th' cavern the other day, but none of that was really news ter me." Joren was arranging his selection of stems on the ground in front of him.

"You talented ones, though. I reckon that language you use for talent must be somethin' close ter what Flight did," he went on. "Neamis told me how she were always teasin' folk, an' how she loved to curse at everyone. But that were only her outside, so Neamis said. He told me he saw Flight's inside, n' he knew how she really felt. She were peaceful. Kind. She always worried what others were feeling. Even those harvesters that killed her."

He looked at Willow, as though waiting to see her response. But then he continued before she could speak. "Neamis told me he knew for certain she would've seen how their stupid ways came out of fear and hurt. Neamis were angry when he said that, like he couldn't ever agree with her."

"I didn't know," Willow replied, at last. Joren's words had shocked her, as it seemed he had intended. "I mean," she said, thinking of Wildcat suddenly, "I know how people are different inside from who they pretend to be."

Returning her hands to the work of braiding, she added, "It's easy to forget that, though. I never even noticed who Flight really was on the inside."

She twisted the ends of the last stems in her rope underneath themselves, finishing it off. Rising to her feet slowly, she then went to collect one final armful. The basket was now almost empty.

"How much do we really ever know of anyone?" she asked Joren in sudden panic. "Of anything? What if everything we think we know from our talents is only our imagination after all?"

"Talkin' like a Harvester, Willow?" he teased her. "Nah. Using a talent's hard work and it carries doubt. I know that. What about the call o' the Forest, for one thing? Every talented person hears it, so they say. But not every talented person is here, come to answer the call. Some must doubt it. Some understand it differently to others. Some have other things t' do than take off after something they can't properly understand."

"Oh." Willow was suddenly thinking about the Rats of the Bees' Nest, and all the talented people elsewhere, including Rinnet. They heard the Forest and they hated the Harvest. Yet they had not come here, it was true.

"Here's another question, then," Joren went on. "All talented folk hear the call of the Forest, even though they're outside it. Right? And rat-talkin' works inside Forest but not outside. Only Flight the Wanderer could far-talk, outside and inside Forest. Why's that? When Forest could reach everyone anywhere with talent?"

They both fell silent for a while. Willow's hands continued working on her rope.

Eventually, she said, "You've got an idea about all this, haven't you?"

"If I was certain I understood it myself, then I'd've told everyone before now," Joren answered. "I just get a feeling, that's all. Hest understands when I tell him. There's something here feels like... like community, that's the best word I c'n think t' use right now."

"Like being part of a village?"

"In a way. You know. You're a hill villager. It's not a right nor wrong thing. More a containing thing, containing both wrong n' right together. Everything in one, but all inside is different."

"And we're part of it because we're inside, too."

"Yes. We're all inside Forest together. And different, like I say. If silent ones don't rat-talk, that's because we're silent. It don't mean we can't hear, but we hear different things, maybe."

His words gave Willow a thrill of excitement. Perhaps she had been right all along, and anyone could be talented if they chose to be. But there were many more kinds of talent than she had first imagined.

"And Forest," she added, quietly. "You think Forest can be active in this somehow, don't you?"

"S' right," he agreed. "Somehow. Though I'm not certain about any of it."

Willow continued to think through Joren's observations as she went on twisting and weaving the stem-weed.

"If we're part of Forest, now," she suggested, a little later, "then Forest is different to how it was without us. Forest could change, like we've been changed by Forest."

"None of us ever stops changing," he agreed. "That's life, ain't it?"

When the ropes were all done, they hung them over low branches to dry where they would be sheltered from snow or rain. After that, they both went straight to the cavern.

Some of the Rats' stores had been moved there, including some tree speakers' supplies. Willow found whinbush oil to soothe their blistered hands, and some dried herbs to make a hot tea. There was always a large pot of water kept hot beside the fire, next to a smaller pot of steaming herbs that filled the air with pleasant smells.

Rock entered the cavern just a few moments after Willow and Joren. He had been keeping watch over a tree cache all day. Now it was the turn of another animal talker, whose name was Arlis, to take over. Soon Willow, Rock and Joren were all comfortably seated on bundles of dried spearleaves, holding clay mugs of watermint and jinsey tea.

Joren still seemed to be in the mood for chatting. "So, tell me more about th' Bees' Nest, then, Willow," he said. "Those city Rats. Seems t' me they're important in our fight against the Harvesters. Just as much as we are."

In fact, Wildcat had stayed at the Bees' Nest longer than Willow had done, but Wildcat rarely came into the cavern. Willow glanced sideways at Rock. He had also lived at the Bees' Nest, while he had been in hiding. She had not been with him at the time.

Rock did not say anything. So Willow began describing the Bees' Nest to Joren. She was aware of other Rats listening in. After a while, some of them asked questions, which she did her best to answer.

Just as she was coming to the end of her affectionate description of Sparkle, and Sparkle's wagon full of plant medicines and other trading goods, Willow looked up and noticed Bee. His face was turned in her direction, though hidden in shadow. She recognised the outline of his hair and beard, and the shape of the bone carvings attached to his jacket. It was the first time Willow had seen him inside the cavern. She knew that he had spent much of the winter out on the deadland, sleeping in one of the snow shelters. Before she had time to offer a greeting, he joined in the conversation about the Bees' Nest.

"I took my name from that place," he called out.

Willow looked towards Bee in astonishment, even though it was too dark to make out his expression. "What? Why didn't you say so before?" she asked him.

"You mean you've been there?" said Rock.

"Oh yes. Lived there. I used a different name, then," Bee went on, as if it was nothing surprising at all. "I took on the name Bee when I left to come here. That was three summers past. How's old Syme Deadlander? I wonder if he got those honeywood nuts I sent with that pack trader I met, just before that first forest winter. Does Syme still go out gossiping in city taverns?"

"We could've told you all about the Bees' Nest ages ago," Rock commented, sounding annoyed. "We could have told you when we first arrived in Forest. How come you've never asked before now?"

Bee said nothing for a while. Willow assumed he was thinking.

"I forgot to say, I guess," he answered slowly, at last, "I've been in Forest three winters now. Got used to it being all action in summer. Long talks are saved up for winter. I suppose I should have said something to you earlier."

"Syme helped us rescue the Green," Willow said, not bothering to hide how cross Bee had made her feel. "I thought you knew that. No wonder none of us can far-talk with Rats outside Forest if you've forgotten about them."

"When I had my first sight of you, it was the Wanderer girl, Flight, who was most on my mind," replied Bee apologetically. "That and the Green you brought along with you. As for far-talking, I tried and failed at that a long time ago. All of us Rats that knew Flight did. None of us could do it without her help. But... well, I guess if someone could... well, that would be wonderful. Yes, it certainly would."

Some tree speakers then asked to hear the tale of the rescue of the captured Green, told out loud. These Rats had been away in deeper Forest when Willow had first arrived with her Green and non-green companions, so the news had only come to them through rat-talk. Willow could not tell if they had chosen that particular moment to ask about it because they were trying to change the subject quickly.

After taking a few long, slow breaths, Willow gave in. She told the whole story, beginning with her own imprisonment, and ending with Goshi's surprising arrival in the Spice City. She was careful to mention each person's name. And she emphasised the involvement of Stern Greylight, thinking it was important for her audience to understand what that man had once done. The tree speakers listened well. After the telling, Willow admitted to herself that the memories did not seem quite as painful as before.

"The Harvesters that come here next spring will have spent all winter in the city. They'll know what's been going on since you left," commented Bee, at the end. "We could do with knowing, too."

"And we could do with not forgetting what we already know about the city," Rock added.

"Yes, all kinds of things could be changing in the city this winter," Willow cut in, not wanting another argument to start brewing. "I hope some of the Bees' Nest Rats have started teaching Riversiders to use their talents."

Several people responded to that. From their comments, Willow understood this was not the first time such an idea had been suggested, perhaps even tried.

"I think it was Goshi coming along that changed everything," Rock said next, continuing from what Willow had said earlier. "The old man finally decided to speak out about what he knew. After we left, his story will have come out in the news-sheets. By now, I reckon others like him might have spoken up, too. He can't have been the only one to know what was going on. There might be people who can back him up."

Soon, everyone seemed to be talking at once. Willow caught snatches of separate conversations, which were all on a similar theme. If only others could far-talk like Flight had done, the Forest Rats and the city Rats would be able to work together against the Harvesters. Privately, she thought it was a hopeless dream. Neamis had said that none of the other Wanderers had managed to teach themselves to do it.

After a while, Willow stopped listening to the conversations taking place around her. The warmth of the cavern was making her sleepy, so she snuggled against Rock's shoulder and closed her eyes. Perhaps, she decided, it was enough just to be able to tree speak and animal talk. And to rat-talk. Especially because rat talking allowed her to stay in touch with Wildcat.

Even during the fiercest cold, the marsh girl usually stayed well away from other people, except for Neamis and Garnet. If Willow questioned this, Wildcat insisted she was happy, and that Forest was sufficient company for anyone. Willow still wished they could see each other more often.

She spent that night in the cavern. When not looking over the sick and injured, she slept huddled beside Rock. Healthy Rats slept in the darker, colder areas of the cavern, leaving the furs near the fire for the use of those who really needed them.

Overnight, the weather turned much colder. It was a relief not to be able to go back to rope making again the next morning, but there was always healing work to do. Tree speakers made daily checks on the stocks of medicines stored in the cavern and the tree caches. They gave help and advice to anyone who asked for it. And they organised care for anyone not able to look after themselves.

During the moon following Willow's day of rope making, there were five deaths at Tall Trees Side.

Ippit and Jona were two young men whose lungs had not been well since before the start of winter. It was thought they had probably inhaled the poisonous summer dust from a tree the Rats called the 'never-touch'. Ippit was a silent one. Jona was a stone listener and had become a good friend of Neamis and Hest. Willow took turns with the other tree speakers to be with both of the sick men through their last days. They were given nightsheart and powdered dream-galls, and she hoped they suffered less than they might have done otherwise.

While Ippit and Jona were dying, a tree speaker named Cerin climbed up to a cache for more dream-galls. She fell and injured her wrist. It seemed a small problem at first. Cerin treated the open wound herself, and everyone paid more attention to the two dying men.

Shortly after Ippit's death, Cerin admitted that her wound had begun to fester. In spite of trying all the treatments suggested by other tree speakers, she then developed a fever. One morning, she was discovered dead, curled up near the cavern fire. She had been perfectly strong and healthy before her fall. Even those Rats who had seen out more than one forest winter talked of feeling stunned and finding it hard to believe what had happened.

Another woman, Annateen the silent one, got snow-blind on the deadland and lost her way. She was out there, blind, without food or shelter, for two nights in a row. Bee and Hornet found her, in the end. They got her back to the cavern alive, but she had been frozen too long, and did not recover.

Then Stemtwist the animal talker fell through ice into a deep pond. He was alone, although he had been widely rat-talking his intention to walk over the ice to get to an injured fox who was crying on the other side. Stemtwist drowned. Hest, Rock and Arlis went to recover his body.

Every dead Rat's body was carried deep into Forest and put on a specially designed tree platform. There, birds and other scavengers would feed. In a way, the Rat would remain a part of Forest life. Eventually, even the tree platform would rot. Bones would fall to the ground to nourish trees. Nothing would ever be wasted.

By the time of Stemtwist's death, Willow and all of the other tree speakers were constantly exhausted. Every one of the Rats was almost always cold and hungry. It was hard to believe any of them would remain alive until spring. And yet, at long last, came some signs of new growth among the forest plants.

Walking on packed snow that reached nearly to the top of the buttress roots of wrist trees, Willow could not see the new shoots under her feet. Even so, she felt them starting to come awake, warm under the insulating covering of snow. Deeply hidden, they could still sense a small increase in the daylight above. At her gentle greeting, they reminded her that winter was already ending.

Sunlight would soon reach the forest floor for longer every day. Many flowers would bloom quickly, before all the new tree leaves opened and made shade. Soon, it might be possible to dig for roots, and to pick young green leaves.

The Rats' supplies of food and medicines were close to running out. Many food caches were now empty. One morning, Willow decided to visit one of the low caches that had been dug into the forest floor. She was hoping to find enough ingredients to cook some kind of stew on the cavern fire.

Willow arrived to discover that the roof of the cache was prised open already. To her surprise, Wildcat was there, reaching inside.

As Willow got closer, she could see that Wildcat had pulled up a basket of old nuts. Almost without looking up, the marsh girl began picking out sound nuts and eating them. There were no deliberately placed leaves or feathers in her hair or on her memikit-skin hat. She looked tired and miserable. Like Willow, she wore a thick woven-grass cloak over the strong clothing originally provided by the Wanderers.

"Hello," said Wildcat, in a break from chewing. "So. We're still here then. Willow, you're so thin. You should eat some cleargold, or some bread-root. You don't look well."

"Nor do you," Willow replied. "How's your shoulder?"

Wildcat was using both arms to sort through the nuts. She continued eating. "Fine," she said, after swallowing.

Willow could not quite believe it.

"Boggarts! I've eaten too fast." Wildcat burped loudly.

"I've come to get supplies to cook stew. Why don't you come back to the cavern and help? Then you can have hot food later."

"No. After this I'm off to find Garnet. There's a spotted imnet by the blue bog. I thought she might like to trail it with me."

"Can you eat them?"

Wildcat shot her a look of scorn. "Of course not. We'll just watch it to see what it does. We won't hurt it. I'll carry a piece of Durnas's dried grain and berry hardpack. There's a whole cake of it here. Plenty left. Need a drink now. Coming?"

They covered the entrance to the cache lightly, since they intended to return later. Then they rat-talked to Harret, the animal talker responsible for guarding several caches in the area that day. She was some distance away, but it was important to let her know they would be coming back soon and would leave the cache secure.

Afterwards, as they walked the short distance to the nearest clean stream, Wildcat stayed unusually quiet for some time.

"What are you thinking about?" Willow finally asked her.

"The black beast."

"The one Joren blinded?"

"Yes. It died last night."

For several moments, Willow was too surprised to speak. She had hardly given the beast a thought recently. Rock had warned everyone it was unlikely to go back into hibernation. But Willow had never once _listened_ for it, having been too afraid of its confusing effect on her talent. Apparently, Wildcat had not felt any need to be so cautious. No wonder she looked so unwell.

"Have you been with it?" Willow asked, finally. "Inside your talent? I knew you were going to track it. But, do you mean to say you've been animal talking with it from a distance? How long have you been able to do that?"

"Since Joren knifed it, on and off. I wanted to be able to reach it if it tried to kill anyone again. It was mad with pain and hunger and it knew it couldn't survive the winter, but it still couldn't help trying. There was always a danger it might come back this way, but it didn't, in the end."

They came to the stream and made themselves cups from dead flathorn leaves. Then they each drank very cold water, dipped from the middle of the stream where its flow was fast and there was no ice. Neither of them spoke for a while. They needed to pay careful attention so as not to fall in and get wet.

"Trying to survive. That's all any of us are doing, isn't it? Just trying to survive 'till spring?" Wildcat said, at last. "Boring, really. I'm so tired of waiting for winter to end, but there's nothing anyone can do to hurry it up, is there?"

"Have you told anyone else the beast is dead? Does anyone know you've been animal talking with it?" Willow was certain that if Rock had known, he would have spoken to her about it.

"I expect Garnet and Neamis have guessed, though I haven't said anything."

"Wildcat, you're a tree speaker, a healer. You understand it's not healthy to hide a trouble like that for so long. You could have told Neamis or Garnet, even if you didn't want to talk to me. What do you think the Green would say to you if they were awake?"

"But they're not, are they? Did you know the one with paired stipes down his back has actually ridden a black beast?"

"Yes. You told me. Though I never asked him about it myself."

"Animal talking with a black beast isn't easy," continued Wildcat, "but I kept trying 'till I got better. And I kept thinking if I just tried a bit harder, I'd work out how to help that beast. Then I would have told all of you."

"You didn't ask Rock for advice?" Willow did not want to accuse Wildcat of being jealous, but it was hard not to suspect it.

"Yes, actually. I did. But he couldn't tell me anything I hadn't worked out for myself when I saw what happened to him. I didn't ask him to animal talk with the beast again. And I didn't tell him I knew where it was. Would you have wanted him to know about its suffering as it died slowly, in so much pain?"

"I suppose not. But I think he'd have liked to know there was someone else feeling sorry for it."

"You'd all have started worrying. I didn't want Neamis to be scared on my account. He says all Wanderers are taught in childhood never to use talent around a black beast. And Garnet would tell me to kill the beast out of kindness, I know she would. But I didn't want to do that, even though I've done it for other animals loads of times. All strong animal talkers do it."

"I know you do."

Rock had described it to Willow as something like the idea of Green food being 'offered'.

"The black beast is different," Wildcat argued. "Like the slimevine, a black beast can lie. Doesn't that make it more of a person? All animals want to stay alive and they all try and avoid pain, but the beast didn't want me to kill it. It didn't 'offer'. Don't you feel that way about plants sometimes?"

Willow remembered how the large slimevine had fascinated her, and how she had wanted to tree speak with it, in spite of the danger. She thought about Wildcat's question. To say that something 'offered' itself was how the Wanderers described the Green's decisions about which other living things to eat. Yet Willow did not think it was really as simple as the word made it sound.

"Yes," she replied, carefully. "Often, I think I'll pick a plant but then I don't because it tells me not to. Rinnet must have told you that, when she taught you tree speaking. Never to pick a plant unless its willing, and always to thank it properly."

"That's a basic part of tree speaking. I mean more than that," insisted Wildcat.

"More? You mean there's something about the beast that's closer to you and I, and further away from other animals and plants? I'm not sure, Wildcat. That would make some animals more important than others. It's almost like the Harvesters thinking they're more important than other people just because they've got more coins."

Having drunk as much ice-cold water as they could hold, they returned to the cache. Wildcat found the big cake of dried grain and berries and began breaking chunks off it, filling pockets on her clothing with them.

"You don't get it, Willow. Not even you," she said, very quietly.

Her eyes met Willow's for an instant. Then she took off, running away into Forest. Within two heartbeats she was already out of sight, hidden by thickets of snow-laden boughs.

"Boggits, Wildcat!" Willow cursed, though there was no one to hear her.

After hauling up as much food as she could carry, Willow had to re-cover the cache on her own. She rat-called Harret, telling her she was done. Then Willow made her way back towards the cavern.

On the way, she sought out Rock, Neamis, Hest and Joren, knowing they were all together. Earlier in the day, Joren and Hest had come across a fallen honeywood branch, broken off its tree by the weight of snow it had been carrying. Rock and Neamis had both responded to Hest's rat-called invitation to do some honeywood carving.

All four of them now sat in a line on a long earth-hugger branch cleared of snow. As Willow approached, she smelled the honeywood. Each of the young men was carving a small bowl. Joren had decorated his with what looked like tiny faces.

The whole scene ought to have made Willow smile. But she was still furious with herself for causing Wildcat to disappear.

"What is it?" Rock asked, before she had said a word.

Willow sat on a small flat rock facing the earth-hugger branch. She explained all that had happened in her exchange with Wildcat.

"Oh, my Wild Cat. We feared she would not keep away from black beast, and we were right," Neamis said, the moment Willow finished. "I can find her. Garnet will let me help."

Dropping the bowl he had spent so long carving, he jumped to his feet, then disappeared into the trees, just as fast Wildcat had done earlier.

Rock, Hest and Joren brushed their wood shavings to the ground and gathered up all the honeywood bowls. Then they accompanied Willow to the cavern. As they walked, all four discussed what Willow had learned from Wildcat.

"She's wrong to get heartsick for the beast, though I'm sorry for it, too," Rock said. "I didn't wish it any harm, even though it tried to eat us all. It can't help what it is. If I'd known how, I would have been willing to kill it. But there wasn't any way for an animal talker to do that, because of the lie-cloud. None of us could have got close enough without being killed, ourselves. It would defend itself without even meaning to. The lie-cloud's automatic. The beast can't help itself. If it didn't ask Wildcat to kill it, maybe that's because it didn't want to kill _her_. Wildcat's changed. She was always the hard one, the hunter. Where's this new softness come from?"

"She's always kept it hidden deep," replied Willow. "Do you remember, in the marshes, that squirrel she named Squint? His name for Wildcat was 'soft nut in a hard shell'."

Rock returned to the subject of the black beast.

"I tried to do what Wildcat thinks she should have done," he said. "I looked for a way of turning it aside without hurting it. That's what I was trying to do before I got forest-lost. I couldn't affect it at all. It was too big and too angry. It was beyond help. Wildcat's got no reason to feel guilty. But, you say she's spent half the winter talking with it, and she stayed with it when it died? I hope she's all right. Can you be lost in your talent without it even showing?" He turned towards Hest.

"I don't think so," Hest replied. "Not that I know of."

"The other Rats should be told everything that Wildcat just told you, Willow," said Joren. "How come none of ye knew what she was up to? I thought all yer rat-talking would've warned ye."

"She kept it to herself. Kept it hidden," explained Hest. "Rat-talking isn't exactly mind reading. It's not so different from any other kind of talking, really."

They reached the cavern and made the stew together. That night, some of the hot stew was served in honeywood bowls. The honeywood would always sweeten the contents of the bowls, however frequently they were used.

There was no news of Wildcat until several days later.

It was a bleak, dark afternoon. A rising wind whipped through the tops of the highest trees, making howling noises. Loose twigs and old leaves came free and pattered down.

Willow stood in the snow cutting jinsey bark. The bark could be chewed to provide a long-lasting, almost spicy flavour that was slightly stimulating. She hoped it might provide a substitute for the warmth of the sun.

Suddenly, something dropped to the ground just by her feet. Startled, she jumped back. A small rabbit pelt lay on the leaf litter.

Looking up, Willow found herself face to face with Garnet.

"A gift," said the wolf woman. "Small. It will make a warmer hat than that leaf-hood you wear. I wish to talk about Wildcat."

Willow tucked her belt knife away and bundled a roll of jinsey bark into a spare belt pouch. Picking up the rabbit skin, she threaded it though her belt for carrying.

"How is she?"

"She worries me," Garnet replied. "I wish the Green were awake to help. Wildcat does not like it when there is an enemy she can't fight. Our enemy right now is winter."

Willow nodded in agreement. "Can't you help her?" she asked.

"Can't you? Can't Neamis? Can't Rock? We have all tried."

"I messed up. I said totally the wrong thing."

"She told me. What you said was not wrong. You gave her a puzzle. But she can't find the answer and it bothers her. She is weakening."

"Physically? Is she ill?"

"Nothing I can see. Her shoulder is healed, but I know it hurts her. It always will, I think. Such wounds are lifelong."

Garnet was looking towards Willow's scarred wrist. Yet Willow wore three layers of long-sleeved clothing, so the scar was not visible at all.

"There is a second black beast near here," Garnet announced. "The one that Joren blinded had a mate. She was sleeping but has woken hungry. Tell Rock. Tell him to track it. No need to fear getting lost. He's stronger now. Stronger than me."

Turning away, the wolf woman then left, without saying anything more.

Willow stood where she was for some time, thinking about how best to break this news to Rock.

A second beast nearby was a potential danger for everyone. Knowing that Wildcat had been animal talking with the first beast until its death, surely Rock would decide to risk using his talent to keep track of the second.

Garnet clearly thought it safe for him to do so, even if Wildcat was risking herself by trying it. Something in the wolf woman's tone of voice had sounded rather like a challenge.

TWENTY-TWO – ROCK

"Why didn't she rat-talk with me as soon as she knew about the beast?"

As he spoke, Rock was not even sure if he meant Garnet or Wildcat. Either of them could have let him know to look out for it. Did they think his earlier experience had left him too damaged?

He was sitting beside Willow on a low-curving branch of a dinnet tree. She did not answer him straight away.

To his shame, Rock found that he had to blink away tears from his eyes. He tried to tell himself it was because of the sharpness of the wind. Until Willow arrived, he had been watching for pack-grannels. The glade beyond the dinnet tree was home to four separate nests of them, and their trails often led to areas rich in edible plants. He had not caught even a hint of the presence of a black beast.

Before he could start reaching out with his talent to search for it, Willow spoke. "Don't be hurt," she said. "I think maybe Garnet is so concerned about Wildcat she hardly cares about the beast. And Wildcat is... too taken up with it. I'm not sure that she's thinking right. I'm very worried about her."

"I could help," Rock argued. He suspected Wildcat and Garnet might not think he was capable of facing a lie-cloud again.

"Have you not been listening?" Willow sounded cross. "Garnet's asking for your help. She told me so I could tell you. Yes, she could have rat-talked to you directly, but she's been concentrating on keeping an eye on Wildcat, and maybe she found it hard to tell me what she did. Maybe she needed to see me face to face before she could find the right words! And actually... actually, she also said to tell you not to fear getting talent lost, because you're stronger than her in talent, now."

Rock found himself unable to answer. Instead, he stared out at the snow and sleeping plants in front of them. The wind had brought down a small dead branch that had landed on a patch of cleargold, crushing its dried seedheads and scattering them out across the snow. Those seeds not already eaten by small animals would extend the cleargold patch considerably.

He was scared to animal talk with a black beast again, but he was also ashamed that Garnet had realised it.

"Please," Willow said very quietly. "I'll stay right here beside you. Do you want Wildcat to have to go through what you did?"

"No, no of course I don't," he replied. After taking a deep breath, he went on. "She ought to be careful, but she's Wildcat, so I don't expect she will. If Garnet hasn't managed to stop her, I'm sure neither of us will be able to, either. So I have to track that beast. Then, at least there will be two of us that know where it is."

He felt the pressure of Willow's hand rest on his arm as he began animal talking. The touch was muffled by her thick cloth-vine mittens. It took some time to find the beast, even though he knew what he was searching for. The animal was a long way off.

The female beast was even more hungry and confused than her mate had been. Even at such a distance, her lie-cloud felt spiteful and sickening. She was desperate, and lashing out at anything she perceived as any sort of threat. Wandering, apparently at random, her only desire was to survive, but she was too disorientated to understand how.

Rock's fears of losing himself again soon dissolved under the force of his compassion for this animal. He thought she was vaguely aware of the touch of his talent, but her own defences were functioning reflexively. She was far too distressed and confused to attack something as far away as he was.

Now that he had located her rough position, he knew it would be easier to find her again later. Letting go of his talent, he turned to look at Willow.

"Still here," he said. He had meant to sound light hearted, but his voice croaked. He swallowed. "I found the beast. She's a long way from here, though she could be coming closer. I'm not sure."

"So now we should rat-talk," she replied. Her eyes told him she understood very well how difficult it had been to reach for the beast. Rock was grateful for her silence on the subject.

They immediately rat-talked a warning to everyone within contact. After that, Rock decided to make another check on the black beast.

"It's funny," he said out loud to Willow, before reaching for the creature again. "Before we came to Forest, I would never have believed anyone could animal talk over such a long distance. Now, I don't know. I feel like I could learn even more about my talent if I want to. If I can live long enough, anyway."

"Shh." Willow thumped him on the shoulder. "We're alive now. So let's just get on with what needs to be done."

Trusting Willow to keep watch over him, he returned his attention to the beast. This second animal seemed to have fed better than the first during the previous summer. But she had still woken too soon, just like her mate. As far as Rock could tell, she was not missing her mate at present, or seeking him, in spite of her distress. The absence of the male meant there would be less competition for food.

Previously, Rock had not even realised the male beast had a mate. Rock's memories of the male beast's mind were of pain, hunger, fury, and methods of hunting for food. Expecting the creature to have constant thoughts of its mate would have been be like Rock's error with the stag and the mistweed. The beast's point of view was hugely different from his own. Just because Rock's own thoughts so often included Willow did not mean other animals were the same.

The male's death did not seem to have woken the female out of hibernation. More likely, as the Rats had feared, it had been changes caused by the harvest. Even though she had eaten more than the male at summer's end, it had not been enough. Harvest had most probably been cutting into the boundaries her usual hunting territory, reducing the amount of available food. And the harvest altered the shape of Forest, confusing and disorientating her.

Since his earlier encounter with the male, Rock had tried to find out all he could about black beasts from many other Rats. He had learned that the beasts mated for life, but each one of the pair kept to their own separate hunting territory. Mated pairs only came together in summer, when there was usually no need to compete over food.

If a female became pregnant, she would give birth to just one or two baby beasts the following spring. She would raise them alone. By longest days, the young were fully weaned and independent. The mother would then chase them out of her territory. The young would roam far into Forest, eventually choosing regular hunting territories of their own. However, the harvest meant that the available habitat for large creatures was now shrinking, summer by summer.

Rock could not tell if this beast was pregnant, and he did not dare ask her. He wished he could contact Merel or the Green for advice, but they were all still sleeping and dusk dreaming.

After casting his talent around the beast one last time, Rock then drew back slowly, paying attention to the surrounding area as he went. Though she was moving, he thought he could find her again easily, as long as he had a good sense of the wider location. About half-way between the beast and his own position, he paused. There had been something different, just for an instant. He thought he had felt the presence of unfamiliar people, probably strays.

Not all strays lacked talent. None of the Rats knew if some of them could have learned a kind of stray-talk, that worked like rat-talking. There must be strays who had lived in Forest for quite a few seasons. Rock was not prepared to risk letting them find out where he was, so he drew in his talent, quickly.

"I think there are some strays out there, as well as the beast," he said to Willow out loud. "I need to talk to Wildcat."

"No. You should rest a moment," Willow replied. "Let me try and rat-talk with Wildcat. If she answers me, then you can join in. Strays? After you've given yourself a breath of peace, rat-talk Bee and Durnas, and anyone else you can reach easily."

Rock did not object. Going after the beast again had taken more courage than he had expected. After he had taken a few breaths, he did as Willow had suggested. Bee immediately replied that other Rats would begin looking for the strays right away.

Rock then sat back against the trunk of the dinnet tree and looked at Willow.

"Wildcat's busy and doesn't really want to speak to us," she said. "She'll meet us in front of the cavern this evening and tell you everything she knows about the beast. Rock, she looked so thin and ill when I saw her the other day. Let's pick up more supplies and see if we can cook something hot on the cavern fire."

"But I..." he started to say.

Willow was shaking her head at him. "She broke off contact and she won't let me in. Whatever you want to ask her's going to have to wait 'till this evening. I'm sorry."

Rock eased himself off the dinnet branch to the ground. He was tired. Someone else could check on the pack-grannels later. Willow dropped down beside him. Then they headed for the nearest cache still containing food stores and selected some of the best of what remained there. This they carried all the way to the cavern.

By the cavern fire, they found Wood Wasp already stewing some dried meat. Adding dried root slices and a few berries, Rock and Willow joined him. All three took turns to stir the stew and turn the pot. The Rats' clay pots tended to crack if heated unevenly for too long.

Several other people were also clustered close to the warmth and light of the fire. No one else seemed to have offered to help Wood Wasp with the cooking, but everyone was doing some task or other. Some were carving small pieces of fallen wood into spoons or pegs and some were weaving dry-grass baskets. Hornet was decorating the rim of her fliset bark hat, weaving a new row of yellow-stem shoots around the edge.

"So, we've got strays, as well as that black beast you and Wildcat are tracking," said Wood Wasp, as Willow took over the stirring spoon.

"Do you think they're much of a danger?" Rock asked.

Hornet spoke up as she tied off the last yellow shoot on her hat brim. "Only if they notice us," she said. "If not, they'll likely move on past. Our food caches are well hidden, and they surely won't notice the greenhomes."

Rock wished he could believe that, but the other Rats in the cavern were unusually quiet. Everyone was obviously scared and nervous, in spite of Hornet's opinion. Rock peered miserably into the stew pot, still feeling very tired. He was always hungry these days, but the food never looked or smelled appealing.

"Wouldn't a little bit of Veristimon be wonderful right now?" said Willow, leaning forward over the pot, "or Dawnpink?"

"Yes," he agreed, sadly. "But those are both from the spice lands, not forest plants. Even in the city, their price is going up all the time, now that the spice ships are not going out so often. Harvest of Forest earns more coin, even with the higher price of spices. I miss Orjeen. That's a spice we used to eat when I was very young, but now it's so rare no one gets any, even in the Spice City."

Wood Wasp overheard them, in spite of their attempts to speak softly.

"I put a good dose of dried Acet in this stew," he said. "And Forest Acet's just as warming as any that comes all the way from the spice lands. It needs a good long stewing though, so it's not ready yet."

It was long after dark when the stewed meat and roots were soft enough to eat. Rock took a small bowlful. The dried Acet did give a spicy taste and an extra warming edge, for which he was very grateful.

Wildcat never turned up. Neither did she rat-call from outside. Even so, Willow insisted on going out of the cavern entrance into the darkness at regular intervals, to see if she was there. Rock and Willow both tried rat-calling her several times, but neither of them received an answer.

"I know she's only being stubborn," Willow said after their fourth attempt to reach their friend. "She promised to tell you all she knew about the black beast, but now I expect there's something she wants to keep to herself."

Rock was inclined to agree. "I'll see if Garnet knows anything," he offered.

A few moments later, he did manage to reach Garnet, who gave him a vague reassurance that she was with Wildcat, who was fine.

"I think Wildcat's all right," Rock then told Willow, speaking aloud. "She's with Garnet and needing to be private."

"Oh, so that's it, is it?" Willow laughed.

Yet Rock could tell from her voice that she was not entirely reassured. It was just as likely that Garnet and Wildcat were tracking the black beast together as it was that they were resting and enjoying love-play. He did not try rat-calling to Neamis. That situation was none of his business.

"We can let it go for tonight then, but I'll rat-call Wildcat again at first light," Willow added. "You still need to talk to her about the beast and I'm still worried about her."

It was long after sunset. Hornet had set off for a stretch on watch in a lookout tree near the first greenhome. Most of the Rats inside the cavern were now trying to sleep. As Willow checked on those who were sick, Rock chose a sleeping place not far from the cavern entrance. He laid out woven leaf-mats and blankets. By the time Willow came to join him, he was almost asleep.

At dawn the next day, they went straight outside. The wind was still very strong, and fiercely chilling. Rock watched the slow brightening of the surrounding trees as Willow rat-talked. At first, she shook her head at him. Then her expression changed, suddenly. She had obviously contacted Wildcat, at last.

Rock saw her eyes widen. He considered trying to join in with the rat-talk, but he never got the chance. Suddenly, there was a frantic, general rat-shout. It had come from Hornet.

The rat-shout was aimed at anyone who was awake enough to hear it. Hornet thought she had seen strays in the merrythorns surrounding the greenhome.

For a couple of heartbeats, Rock was too shocked to fully take in what this meant. Then Willow grabbed hold of his arm. He heard the voices of other Rats as they started climbing out of the cavern entrance behind him.

"Could the strays know about the greenhome? What..?" he started to say, out loud.

"There's more," Willow interrupted him. "From Wildcat. She's going as fast as she can _towards_ the black beast!"

"What?" He stared at her. " What do you mean? Why's she doing that when the Green are in danger? Didn't she get Hornet's rat-shout just now? Where's Garnet?"

Rock's head was so full of questions he could not make sense of anything.

Looking at Willow, he realised she had not completely dropped her contact with Wildcat. Still obviously rat-talking, she continued speaking aloud at the same time, clutching his arm to hold herself steady. "Garnet and Neamis are both following, trying to call her back, but she won't listen to them. Something new has happened. I can't tell what she's thinking, exactly, but it's about more than just the black beasts. It could be the strays. She won't let me know what's really going on. Only that the Green are in her thoughts and she's angry. Very, very angry."

Shaking his head to clear it, Rock took hold of both Willow's hands. He finally began trying to rat-talk along with her. At the same time, through his ears, he heard Wood Wasp asking a question. Rock could not spare enough attention to reply.

"I don't get any sense that she's afraid at all," he said aloud, a few moments later. "That's what worries me the most. Hold on, I'll try animal talking with the black beast."

"Wait, sit down first." Willow gently pushed him in the direction of a low branch.

Obediently sitting there, he was aware of other Rats gathered around them.

"Do you think we ought to go straight to the greenhome, now?" he asked, looking up to meet Wood Wasp's concerned gaze.

"Jinnet and Ash have already gone," Wood Wasp replied. "But it's too far. They can't get there before the strays break through to the greenhome, if that's what those foul slime-pissers are trying to do. Only Hornet and Dart are near enough for that, but if there's a black beast anywhere near, its lie-cloud will hit them. That's why Jinnet and Ash have gone to help, because they're silent. Rats are searching out Joren and the other silent ones that weren't in the cavern last night. They'll all be asked to help."

Forcing himself to relax, Rock leaned his back against the tree behind him. Then he settled into another long-distance session of animal talking, concentrating on an area around the beast, yet well away from the centre of its lie-cloud. After a while he could sense Wildcat's position in relation to the creature. Wildcat was getting closer to it all the time. The beast moved more slowly than she did, in spite of its huge size. It could feel Rock watching, and it knew Wildcat was following it. But most of its attention was on something else.

Willow had said something out loud. Rock stopped animal talking in order to listen to her properly.

"Say that again?" he asked.

"Wildcat knows something's threatening the Green. That's what she's so upset about. I can't find out any more. She's shutting me out again." Willow sounded hurt as well as anxious.

Rock could not believe Wildcat would avoid the opportunity to call on help when the Green were in danger. Unless, for some reason, Wildcat thought they had a better chance of survival if she acted alone.

"Let me take another look," he said.

Wondering what he might have missed earlier, he risked extending his talent further towards the beast. Even though he was able to break inside its lie-cloud, it still resisted him, pushing him aside like a thought it preferred not to allow into its consciousness. He found it impossible to pick up everything the beast was following through its senses, but its attention seemed to be most focussed on what it could smell.

From somewhere that was still quite a distance away, it was picking up odours of smashed vegetation, with hints of freshly disturbed earth. The scents moved with currents of air that swirled in the wind, but there was definitely something else, very faint, even to the beast's nose. Rock was sure he recognised it, but could not place it. To the beast, it seemed to mean something more like medicine than food.

Rock stopped being aware of Willow and the other Rats as he puzzled over the familiar smell. The beast was attracted by it. In fact, Rock thought the beast was quite purposefully going after that smell.

Finally, he realised the smell was dusk. His confusion had been because it came through the beast's senses rather than his own. At last, he had succeeded in translating the sensation.

In the next moment, Rock caught a rat-shout that felt as if it came from the same direction, distant, yet closer to the cavern than the beast.

" _Help! Help needed!"_ The shout was fuzzy, as if the person sending it was dizzy or confused. Nevertheless, the person sending it had a very strong talent, to be reaching out past the black beast's lie-cloud.

"Merel!" Willow exclaimed aloud. "That's Merel isn't it?"

"Something's woken him up," Rock agreed. "I think the strays have broken into the Green's dusk store. And the black beast is following the smell of it!"

Quickly attempting to _talk_ with the Green, he found they were still sleeping. Whatever the danger was, only Merel had noticed, so far. The Green must be too deeply asleep to have any way of defending themselves.

Now Rock understood why Wildcat was so frantic. Even so, he still could not guess what she intended to do, and why she was not letting anyone help her.

He realised that Willow was patting at his arm. She must have been trying to get his attention for some time.

"We've rat-talked with Hest. He was with Joren," she said, as soon as he looked towards her. "They're nearer to the greenhome than we are. Joren will meet up with Jinnet and Ash. Hest will move back if the beast gets too close. Are you all right?"

"Yes. I'm, all right. But I can't hear Merel anymore. The lie-cloud's already in the way. Probably the most useful thing I can do is keep animal talking to track the beast."

"No one can reach Hornet or Dart now," Willow confirmed. "So everyone's going to go to the greenhome, even if we'll probably get there too late."

Whatever reason Wildcat had for trying to act alone, it seemed that option was about to be taken away from her.

"Right, so let's go," Rock agreed.

Taking Willow's hand, he set off at a run. Together, they raced towards Merel's greenhome.

By rat-talking as far as he dared while running, he was able to work out that Neamis and Garnet were finally closing in on Wildcat. Ahead, Rock knew there was a chance of disaster facing everyone.

He found that it made no difference to what he felt he had to do. Even if there was still a chance of getting talent-lost or forest-lost again, he would animal talk with that black beast. For once, he felt himself to be almost as brave as Wildcat.

TWENTY-THREE – WILDCAT

Careful practice with the wounded male black beast had taught Wildcat how to cope with its defences. She might not have managed to get as close to the beast's mind as Rock had done. Rock had very nearly got himself talent-lost, and Wildcat had no intention of taking such a risk. The Green needed her to remain alive. With this female beast, she stayed close, but not too close. There might be a way of using its arrival to the advantage of the Green.

She had already been animal talking with the female for days, on and off, worried it might threaten the other Rats, or the Green. The beast smelled things it did not understand, but that Wildcat herself could interpret.

Wildcat ran on steadily, continuing to animal talk. Like everyone else, she had picked up Hornet's rat-shout and Merel's terrible cry of distress. By then, she had already guessed the strays might be in the merrythorn thicket around the greenhome. Now, she thought someone was already digging into the earth walls that hid Merel and his sleeping Green companions. The black beast was not all that close to the greenhome, yet. But her nose was huge. The keenness of her sense of smell was amazing.

Hornet and Dart were somewhere near the greenhome, and Hornet had done well to spot those strays in the merrythorns. Even from a lookout tree, they might easily have been missed. Both of the Rats on watch were talented, so they had stopped rat-talking as the beast closed in. Wildcat regretted the trouble they must now be having due to the lie-cloud, but it could not be helped. Two Rats were no match for a whole gang of strays, but a hungry black beast certainly could be. That was why Wildcat had been actively encouraging the beast to head in that direction.

A rampaging black beast could scare anyone or anything. As soon as it got near the greenhome, those strays would run. The hardest part would be making sure the beast did not stomp on the greenhome and try to feed on dusk or Green. Wildcat was hoping she now knew this beast well enough to persuade it to do as she wanted, when the time came. It would be risky for Wildcat, but far safer for all the other Rats.

The problem was, if all the strays managed to get away without being eaten, the beast would still need to be fed. So, Wildcat would have to get it away from the greenhome, somehow. That would be difficult. She would not mind if the beast ate the strays, though Neamis would hate it.

A little of Wildcat's confidence began to drain away as she continued running. She could tell the black beast wanted to eat all of that dusk it could smell. It seemed to think the dusk would take away the pain of its hunger and soften the confusion in its mind. Unfortunately, its nose could also detect the presence of sleeping Green, even on a very windy day. The Green were prey, and might be easier to catch than the other people who were digging them out.

Wildcat knew she could outrun the large group of Rats who had come in response to Merel's call. Most were trying to keep back from the range of the beast's lie-cloud, anyway. But Willow and Rock were with them. Together with Neamis and Garnet, they were far more likely than the others to ignore the lie-cloud and press on forward. All four of them kept trying to rat-talk with Wildcat. Rock persisted in animal talking as well. He was forcing his way past the lie-cloud, so that Wildcat could clearly hear his calls. Refusing to reply, she continued firmly shutting him out from her thoughts, some of which she could never allow him to know.

If necessary, to distract the black beast from the Green, Wildcat might have to offer herself to it as prey. It would be her last resort, yet she had considered the possibility right from the first moment of deciding how to get rid of those strays.

She was gradually catching up with the beast. Wildcat was very familiar with this part of the Forest. She had spent many days tracking and hunting here with Garnet. The beast was lost and confused, so it went in a straight line towards the dusk smell. It crashed against trees and vines and shrubs, repeatedly battering at obstacles until they shifted or broke. Then it used the weight of its body to force a way slowly through them. Wildcat was far lighter and smaller. She ran, climbed, jumped and crawled, going over or under any obstacles. There was still a chance she might reach the greenhome first.

Even while running, she continued animal talking. Now that the beast was getting closer to the greenhome, it had even begun to distinguish each of the strays as an individual smell. Wildcat counted ten of them. They were most likely rough, violent people, used to stuffing their bellies with fire-cooked meat on a daily basis.

Apart from Rats and the Green, hardly anyone stayed inside the Forest through winter unless they were stray. Strays had no other choices. Wildcat had guessed some time ago that such people must trade with Harvesters. For one thing, it was the only possible way a tiny clean-up team could ever have got hold of a whole intact crewel tree.

She also suspected that strays sometimes trapped Green. Wildcat had never understood how Stern and Capability could have kept their operation secret, if their own harvest workers had trapped those Green who ended up in the Spice City. Once the workers had returned home, someone, somewhere in the city, would surely have found out from them what was going on. However, if strays had captured the Green, perhaps at some distance from the harvest, everything made more sense. Then, Stern and Capability might have convinced their harvest workers it was just some live animals inside that crate the Green had been kept in.

In spite of all that, Wildcat knew it would be foolish to assume that all strays had equal knowledge of the Green. Those now digging into the greenhome might not realise there were sleeping Green inside, even though they had somehow learned about the dusk. She thought it likely they did not, since it made no sense trying to catch Green in winter, when there were no Harvesters here to buy them.

From what the black beast was picking up, Wildcat did not think any of the strays were talented. They certainly did not seem to have responded to the repelling cloud around the greenhome.

Perhaps they only thought the greenhome was a cache for dusk. One of them might have witnessed Green storing some dusk during the previous summer. More than likely, there were also legends and half-truths circulating among strays, just like any other group of people. Wildcat had no way of finding out exactly what this group believed they had found. She was not planning to question any of them, just make them go away.

Dusk leaves were the only plant the Green ever stored in quantity. Everything else they needed was foraged and eaten at need. Merel had described to Wildcat how the Green gathered dusk leaves throughout summer, storing them in a special part of the greenhome to dry out. These dried leaves would be the Green's only food through the whole of winter. Merel's Green had split their own carefully gathered supplies with the newcomers rescued from the city.

As they slept, the Green would gradually change their positions within the greenhome, allowing their body heat to build up without over-warming those at the centre. When each of them came to the outer edge of the group, they would get a chance to visit the dusk pile. As Merel had described this to Wildcat, it had sounded as though they barely needed to come awake in order to take some and eat it.

So the strays would have got a far larger haul of dusk if they had come at the very start of winter. That suggested they had no idea about the presence of the Green in the mound, or the reason the dusk was kept there. Wildcat's best guess was that they knew structures like the greenhome were places the Green stored dusk, but no more than that. And they had somehow come across this one by accident.

By throwing her talent ahead of the beast and scanning the area of the greenhome, Wildcat found out that Merel had now succeeded in rousing the sleepy Green. She could sense that some of them were already crawling out of the greenhome through tunnels. They were probably communicating verbally with each other, but would not _talk_ with Wildcat, because of the black beast. She tried to let them know the beast was part of a rescue plan, but could not tell if they _heard_.

She hoped they would make their way out into the surrounding thicket from exits as far as possible from their dusk pile. That way, some of them might just have a chance of remaining unseen. Their bodies would show up against the snow and they were confused and weak, but with luck, they would not need to stay out there for long.

Next, Wildcat centred all of her attention on the black beast. It was angry and confused. Normally, as soon as it woke from hibernation, it would eat a lot of plants and insects, digging them out from earth softened by spring rain. Killing larger animals was too much effort while it was so very hungry and weak after its long sleep. But this beast had come awake when the ground was still frozen. It had eaten a little, but not nearly enough.

The animal was pregnant, too. The twin baby black beasts were very tiny, and still living off food reserves absorbed by their mother at the end of the previous summer. Nevertheless, the pregnancy added another layer of urgency to the adult beast's need to feed herself.

The black beast was now getting very close to the source of all the various smells it had been following. It knew there was dusk, in a quantity larger than it had ever encountered before. Usually it would only come across a few plants at a time, digging them out of the ground with its claws. They were tasty and they stopped both pain and hunger.

The beast was also aware of the presence of many large prey creatures. Some smelled of forest hair, and earth, and plants. They crept out in all directions. Another group smelled mostly hairless, yet carried the long-dead skins of other animals over themselves.

Wildcat feared it was going to be very difficult to persuade the black beast to go after the strays and leave the Green alone. She was almost level with the beast now, having come around to approach the greenhome from a slightly different direction. Continuing to run and clamber onwards, she focussed on _talking_ to the animal even more powerfully.

She tried to express to her why it would be best to eat the strays rather than the Green. The nearly hairless people, Wildcat explained, spent the winter killing any animals they could find, digging them out hidden of dens and other refuges. These people killed and ate young animals and old animals, sick ones as well as healthy ones. Hoping to impress on the black beast how nasty the strays were, Wildcat also mentioned they would happily kill pregnant females.

It was a hopeless strategy. Even as she felt the beast's contempt for her suggestions, Wildcat was ashamed to have tried them. A black beast did not think about revenge, or distinguish between prey creatures according to their behaviour. This female would simply go after the first prey she came to, whether it was a stray or a Green, or Wildcat herself. Wildcat needed to find a more effective way of influencing the creature's choice.

The beast reached the thicket of merrythorn around the greenhome. Here it slowed down. The Green's protective talent-cloud did not frighten it, but was enough to make it temporarily more cautious. Wildcat forced her legs into a final burst of exertion and managed to overtake it. After a quick glimpse of its shaggy dark shape pushing up through the trees not far away, she dropped to the ground, burrowing under the thorns. She was hoping to draw the beast after her, towards the strays and away from the Green.

There was a terrifying moment when she knew the beast had felt her get within reach of its claws. Moving as fast as she knew how, she scrambled deeper. Before it even had time to lift a foot, she was out of its range. Its interest in squashing her faded as it turned its attention back to the larger number of prey creatures gathered further on.

By squirming along the ground, Wildcat was able to avoid the worst of the scratching thorns against her clothing. Still animal talking, she felt the beast rise up on its hind legs, looking for the easiest way of breaking through after her.

Coming out of the thicket, Wildcat stood up. Instantly, she jumped to the low-hanging branch of a leafless drost tree. Clinging to the branch, swinging herself across into a tall homewood and climbing around the trunk, she then crawled the whole length of a huge branch. Under her feet, the branch moved as the tree's trunk swayed in the wind. Wildcat adjusted her balance to compensate. When the branch tip began to sag under her weight, she jumped forwards to land in a deep cushion of snow covered plants, just a few paces from the edge of the greenhome.

With one part of her attention still monitoring the beast's position, she crept around the side of the mound forming the greenhome. The strays were making a lot of noise. Two of them appeared to be on lookout, staring out into the thicket and looking nervous. Yet both faced away from Wildcat. They made no response to her approach. Trees and merrythorns everywhere rattled and shook. The wind moaned and howled. Wildcat's steps were almost silent. The strays would never notice her as long as they did not look round.

She quickly chose a shadowed place in which to stand under the edge of the merrythorns. There, she would be almost invisible if she remained still.

All of the strays seemed to be arguing amongst themselves. Several were pushing digging sticks into the side of the greenhome. They must have heard the sound of the beast crashing towards them, and probably smelled it, too. Yet they had clearly not understood the significance of what their senses told them. Sounds and smells often carried strangely through the lower levels of Forest in high winds. And the strays would expect all black beasts to be in hibernation. Even so, the animal would become visible to them very soon. Wildcat had only a few moments to observe what they were doing.

None of the strays gave any sign of being aware of the dazed and frightened Green who had left the greenhome from the opposite side. The strays were all clustered around one spot on the earth wall. They were attacking this with digging sticks, taking turns to come forward. Meanwhile, they appeared to be disagreeing about the best place to dig and the best method of digging. Their lookouts held unsheathed knives, as though expecting to be discovered by Rats at any moment.

A very strong smell of dusk came out of the opening the strays had already made. So far, they did not seem to have actually managed to remove any from the store. Wildcat noticed other holes in this side of the greenhome. It looked as though they had known the dusk was in there, but not been certain exactly how to reach it.

Wildcat could not see any of the Green, although she knew the beast could still smell them. They had not gone far.

Somewhere in the merrythorn thicket, the black beast slammed down her front feet. She would have liked to seek out the weak and tasty Green, but the merrythorns tangled her claws and lodged in her hide.

Homewood branches shivered above Wildcat's head as the beast stamped some of the merrythorns flat to stop them getting in the way. The strays all looked round in alarm. They had finally noticed that something dangerous might be happening. The two who had been digging straightened up. Others raised weapons, stepping away from the greenhome.

The beast sent out a furious wave of triumph that battered at Wildcat's mind. She felt the weight of its limbs as it crushed more snow covered merrythorn bushes. The thorns still prevented it from moving fast. It kept pausing to shake them from its fur before they could work in deeper. But it knew that, just ahead, there was both prey and dusk.

All of a sudden, Wildcat was convinced that her plan could never work. Her power over the beast would never be strong enough. Wildcat knew the vastness of its lungs as it drew in breath and then let out a roar.

She was beginning to lose herself inside the beast's mind. The smells of dusk and Green and strays that came to her were bewilderingly complex, now. The Green smelled clean, tasty, and oddly blurred. They would be easier to catch. For just an instant, Wildcat felt a need to find and eat somebody delicious.

Suddenly, a close touch jolted her awareness back into herself. Then someone _talked_ to her, in spite of the black beast's presence. At first, Wildcat was so stunned by the contact, she could barely take in what was happening.

Softly furred hands cupped Wildcat's face. She found herself looking directly into the eyes of the Green with paired stripes down his back. This was not his greenhome. He ought to be safely asleep in the other greenhome, some distance away from here. Yet, it was definitely him, and no one else.

As Wildcat struggled to take in what she saw and felt, she realised her friend was not alone. Beside him was the one with a star-shaped brown patch on her shoulder. She began stroking her fingers down Wildcat's arm. Both Green looked a great deal thinner than when she had last seen them.

Wildcat looked at the two Green in utter confusion. Somewhere quite nearby, the black beast was still pushing her way slowly through the merrythorns.

The striped male Green _talked,_ in spite of the black beast's lie-cloud. Like Wildcat, he knew how to get around it. Communicating in thoughts, more quickly than anyone could have spoken aloud in words, he explained. He and the little one's mother had purposefully taken less dusk than usual, sleeping less deeply in order to care for their baby, who was not yet fully weaned. And so, the striped one had known when the male black beast had died. He had also sensed the arrival of the female. Though it was sleeping time, he had once been a black beast rider, and so had caught the feel of black beasts in winter, when such a thing should not have been possible.

Stripes had then sleepily kept track of the female beast. He had been concerned to sense Wildcat doing the same. As the beast had started to become a danger, even before Merel's rat-shout of alarm, both the Green with the striped back and his mate had decided to come after Wildcat. The little one was now sleeping deeply and had been recently fed. His parents were now offering to help Wildcat drive the black beast away. They knew how close she had just come to losing herself.

Straight away, Wildcat began arguing with her Green friends. She tried to explain to stripes why the black beast's help was needed. But he did not understand, and he seemed to think she intended to try and ride the beast. Both Green waved their arms at her while stripes sent thoughts of fear, and the instruction to run. They seemed far more afraid of the beast than the strays.

Wildcat shook her head and pointed towards the strays, who were still arguing, though much more quietly than before. Then two of them suddenly pointed in the direction of Wildcat and her two Green friends, obviously noticing them for the first time.

A man and a woman came forward from among the strays, holding knives in their outstretched hands. Behind them, several of the others were brandishing sharpened digging sticks.

Meanwhile, the beast was getting closer. It had dropped onto all fours again, using its snout to push aside the rest of the merrythorns in its way.

Wildcat could only think of one possible response. Dropping a hand to her belt, she took hold of the handle of one of her hunting knives, preparing to stand and fight. At the same time, she sent a thought to the two Green, showing them bared teeth and clawed hands. Indicating the option for them to duck behind her and hide in the merrythorns, she was surprised at how they both responded. They made it clear that they had come to prevent her from getting forest-lost, so they would stand beside her.

There was no time to object, or to remind them that they were still sluggish from cold and weak from hunger. Two rough, savage, frightened strays attacked the Green to each side of Wildcat, just as a third came directly towards her holding out a digging stick in one hand and a long knife in the other.

The sight of that knife caused Wildcat to react without thought. Before she knew what was happening, she had leapt backwards into the merrythorn thicket. As the stray followed after, Wildcat crouched down and then rolled to the side. Her terror could only have lasted a heartbeat, but it had been enough to cause her to flee. By the time she had recognised that, her attacker was with her in the bushes.

It was a man. Wildcat could smell him and see where the bushes thrashed at he tried to come after her. Sliding down to lie flat underneath the loops of thorny branches, Wildcat squirmed her way back towards the greenhome.

As soon as she was out from under the thorns, she jumped to her feet. Tensing her knees to run, she drew out both of her belt knives. The one stray who had gone for her was still crashing about in the merrythorn bushes, not yet having noticed her change of direction.

Unfortunately, Wildcat's two Green friends were now hidden from view. In the brief time she had been away from them, they had become surrounded by all of the other strays.

Cascades of snow fell suddenly from the merrythorns. Wildcat hesitated. Less than twenty paces away, the black beast finally emerged from the thicket, rising up on her hind legs once more. She was absolutely enormous, and Wildcat caught the full force of her lie-cloud at close range.

Unable to move, unable to see through her own eyes, Wildcat stood frozen to the spot, desperately clinging on to an idea of herself. For several heartbeats nothing made any sense at all.

Wildcat fought to survive. It was like kicking up out of a muddy bog before running out of air from her one last breath. Finally, she regained control of her own thoughts. Gasping, she picked out sensations from her own ears and eyes. Screams came from the strays. There were no sounds from the Green. They would have been affected by the lie-cloud, too.

To Wildcat's relief, the beast headed straight for those running strays who were closest to it. Then, as Wildcat's own senses cleared a little, she was finally able to see her Green friends. The two Green lay in the snow, side by side. The instant she caught sight of them, Wildcat knew they were both dead.

Nevertheless, she went to make sure, quickly doing the checks that Rinnet had taught her. Each of them, the one with paired stripes and the one with the star-shaped patch, had been stabbed in the heart and then had their throats slit. Wildcat recognised the injuries immediately. She had carried out just such quick, efficient, deadly cuts herself, to animals she had needed to kill for meat.

Both of Wildcat's Green friends were suddenly gone, forever. And nothing could now change what had happened. The shock was cold and bitter. More chilling than the shower of ice from the snapping of a snow-weighted branch.

Wildcat had failed to protect them when they had most needed her. Shim Dealer's knife wound had left an uncontrollable scar in her. And she had recognised it much too late. So the strays had been able to murder two of her friends.

The murderers now ran from the black beast. Gritting her teeth against the lie-cloud, Wildcat began animal talking again. She still had to make sure that Merel and the rest of the Green survived. The beast's attention was now on the strays, which meant the lie-cloud, though just as strong, was no longer directed right at Wildcat.

Through the senses of the beast, she could tell how the strays were using their weapons to hack at all the plants ahead of them. Not one of them even spared an instant to look back towards the greenhome they had damaged, or the Green they had killed. Terrified and confused, they were mostly running around the greenhome instead of heading out through the thorns to get further away.

The black beast moved slowly, sniffing the air. Suddenly, reaching out a leg in a wide swipe through the bushes, she gutted a man using one of her claws.

The man screamed, but the sound cut off sharply. Wildcat had been crouched by the bodies of her friends. Now she stood up, walking around the greenhome until she could watch the beast.

It dropped back down onto all fours. Shifting its weight, the animal then crushed the dead stray under her back foot.

Wildcat smelled the stench of him, both through her own senses and through the mind of the black beast. As the beast lowered her head and began to feed, Wildcat drew her talent back.

Everything alive was prey for something. Nothing was ever wasted, not even a stupid, thieving stray. But that did not mean she could bring herself to remain quite so close to the black beast's mind as the animal fed.

Only then did Wildcat realise someone else had come to stand beside her. They had begun tugging at her arm. She wanted to ignore them, but they persisted.

"It's me, Wildcat. It's me, Joren. Come away t' be safer."

Fighting to draw some of her attention out past the lie-cloud, she understood that Joren was trying to pull her around to face him. She had previously been so involved with the beast, she had not noticed his arrival.

"Don't look there. Don't think about th' beast," he told her. "Don't listen to those sounds. Come away, now. I know those two Green the strays killed were yer friends. Ash n' Jinnet are with them now. They won't let the beast take them. Ye've no need to fear that. Come with me to safety, Wildcat."

Reluctantly turning her head at last, she stared at him. Finally, she admitted to herself that her plan had gone most horribly wrong.

"Get away from here, Joren, and take the others with you," she said. Her voice came out deeper than intended, like a growl. "It'll eat you, too. Get clear while it's busy."

"That's exactly what I've been telling you to do, yer stone-shrimp!" He was still pulling at her arm. "Ye haven't heard me at all, have yer? I'm so sorry yer Green friends are dead. Ye can't help them any more now. Would they want you to die, too?"

Without bothering to explain what he could not understand, she wrenched herself free of his hold. Then she prepared to return to animal talking. But a sudden, gentle wave of sympathy brushed against her talent, interrupting her.

The Green who had slept with Merel ought to have spread themselves out for safety. Yet, as she felt the mental touch of the group, Wildcat learned they were all huddled together at the other edge of the thicket. They were trying to keep themselves warm. In spite of the beast's lie-cloud, they were risking a very slight use of talent to reach her. They sent feelings of concern and condolence.

Merel was not with the main group. He, at least, had sensibly gone out beyond the merrythorns. Lifting her head to glare at Joren, Wildcat pointed in the right direction. "Help Merel!" she shouted at Joren. "Go! He's that way and he needs you. Sort it out, Joren. Help everyone. I've got to take the beast away from here."

Joren's eyes widened as he took in her meaning.

After a moment's frantic consideration, Wildcat added, "Joren, please tell Willow and Neamis and Garnet I'm sorry. Tell them I was trying to help, it just didn't work out."

There was no time to say anything more. In the opposite direction to the beast's lie-cloud, Wildcat was able to sense that Hornet, Dart, Neamis and Garnet were now getting very close. She already knew that Willow, Rock, and various other Rats were not far behind them. Some of them might stay back to keep away from the worst of the lie-cloud, but Wildcat could not count on that. All of them would very soon be in great danger from the beast she had encouraged to come here.

She got to her feet, going back for a last glance at her two dead Green friends. Two more silent Rats, Jinnet and Ash, now stood protectively over the bodies. Both Rats were armed with hunting knives.

Still holding her own knives, one in each hand, Wildcat bolted into the thicket. Joren shouted. He might have lunged after her, but she was too fast for him to catch. Ducking low to remain hidden, she made her way further around the perimeter of the clearing, towards the beast.

Wildcat slipped inside the lie-cloud. This time, she knew there was a good chance of never coming out again. Yet she still fought to keep her own mind separate. After regaining her own will, she began pushing back at the animal's thoughts.

The remaining strays were moving out in all directions, so lost and confused they might not notice anyone else in the forest around them. Each of them was effectively alone. Wildcat tried to encourage the beast to follow one.

The beast turned its head in Wildcat's direction. Crouched inside the merrythorns, Wildcat could not see the animal at all. Yet her own shoulders twitched in sympathy with its movements and she knew exactly what it was doing. It resisted her attempts to influence it. Suddenly, the lie-cloud strengthened in retaliation against her.

The beast's strength almost pulled Wildcat outside of her own mind. The animal would not allow her to interfere. It wanted to eat the sleepy green who had crawled out of their nest. It was going to feast on the weak ones before they had time to wake up.

Wildcat slapped at her own arms to remind herself of her body. Then she began to move, running towards the beast, ducking under the merrythorns. She would not give in.

Once clear of the edge of the thicket, Wildcat stood up, raising onto her toes and stretching her arms above her head. The knives in her hands shone like polished claws. Wildcat allowed herself to fill up with fury. She became threat. As fierce as the biggest black beast in the Forest.

This was how a Green beast-tamer would train a young beast. The one with paired stripes down his back had once told Wildcat about it. There had been a lot more she had wanted to find out from him. Now, she was going to have to guess the rest for herself.

She ran right up close to the animal's enormous forefeet, holding both knives ready. Staring up at the great shaggy head, animal talking with all the force she possessed, Wildcat expressed her intention to fight back if it attacked.

The Black beast lowered its head, turning one eye to look at her. It was very deliberately trying to confuse her talent. But Wildcat was simply too furious to give in. She could not afford to lose herself right now.

For the space of ten of Wildcat's heartbeats, she and the black beast challenged one another. The beast used its instinctive ability to disable talent, especially that of an animal talker. Wildcat used everything she had ever learned about predator animals.

Wildcat had been the best hunter in the marshes. A predator, herself. Now she must pretend to be even more dangerous than the black beast. Right now, it was still hungry, weak and confused. In one last focussed effort, Wildcat simply made herself believe that the beast was already overcome.

It worked. The beast lowered its head towards her, signalling submission.

Wildcat could not simply send it on its way. It might return to the greenhome later on. Yet she did not want to murder the animal, especially when it was partly Wildcat's fault it had arrived here in the first place.

Thinking of her murdered Green friends, she gathered her strength for an even greater effort than before. Wildcat instructed the beast to let her ride on its back.

The black beast resisted. Wildcat held firm, making it very clear the beast had no choice but to agree. Wildcat was fierce. She was determined. At last, confused and tired, the beast gave in.

No one should try and tell a black beast what to do. But an animal talker who could get past its defences could ask, perhaps in a way that did not really offer much choice.

As Wildcat climbed another drost tree, the beast waited underneath. Then Wildcat carefully lowered herself from the tree onto the animal's back, just behind its head. It growled, but did not shake her off. Wildcat's knees pressed against its thick fur. She saw ripples of different shades of brown flowing through black, where the wind ruffled along the longer hair at the tops of its front legs.

There were more people coming, in spite of the beast's defences. The beast could smell them and Wildcat felt them with talent. She knew that Neamis and Garnet were only moments away from breaking through the merrythorn thicket. It would have been comforting to send them a rat-call, but that would increase the effects of the lie-cloud. It would only hurt them all the more.

Wildcat knew she had made a mess of everything. Two friends were already dead. Merel's Green were out in the cold, their dusk scattered. There had been plenty of violence, after all. She had done nothing to make Neamis proud of her.

And yet, she now rode a black beast. Like a Green beast-tamer. Like the most talented Green of them all. She had done something everyone had told her was impossible. And she might, at least, be able to stop this creature from killing any more of her friends.

Gently, Wildcat suggested to the beast that it ought to head back into its usual territory. Knowing the beast was reluctant, she _talked_ of the meat it would find on its home ground. Even though there had been so little before, she told it, now things were changed.

Picturing a whole troupe of freshly dead strays in her mind, Wildcat then added some Harvesters. Including a few whose faces she particularly remembered.

It was the first lie Wildcat had ever told through her talent. She felt both triumph and shame.

TWENTY-FOUR – WILLOW

As she raced towards the greenhome, Willow knew something very bad was happening there. A black beast's roar came from that direction. Already, Willow's head was spinning from its lie-cloud. She was afraid to trust her own eyes and ears, let alone try using any talent.

Along with Rock and the other Rats, she ran across hardened snow. Often, they were able to go straight over frozen plants without harming them. But they had to watch for hidden soft spots. No one dared rat-talk anymore.

They came to a familiar group of trees. This was the final approach to the merrythorn thicket around the greenhome.

"Wait." Rock's hand touched Willow's shoulder, pulling her to a stop. "Let me find out what we're facing. If I stand still, I can animal talk more easily. Then... then I can concentrate on the beast."

He was out of breath, but not at all visibly affected by the lie-cloud. Most of the other Rats were looking strained by it. Willow knew her own forehead was creased from the headache she was trying to ignore. She yelled out to the others, asking them to wait.

Since everyone knew Rock had been animal talking with the black beast, they all followed her instruction without question. The twenty or so talented Rats all came to stand quietly nearby, making the most of the brief opportunity to rest. The icy wind cut against Willow's cheeks, but everywhere else she was hot from running.

Rock leaned his back against a wide tree trunk. She watched his eyes lose focus as he sank further into his talent.

He spent just a few moments concentrating on animal talking, but Willow found the wait nearly unbearable. When she was almost ready to explode from the tension, his face suddenly changed and his dark eyes looked at her once more.

"First," he said, with a shake of his head, "strays. They must be. Running away from the beast. Watch out."

The look in his eyes had become frightening. Willow braced herself for more bad news.

"Two dead Green," Rock continued. "And a dead... ea... eaten... stray. I think. And Wildcat... Wildcat..."

"She's dead, too?" Willow's voice came out in a whisper. She suddenly found it hard to draw in a breath.

"No, she... she's done something amazing. I think she's riding the beast! It's leaving." Rock stood up straight. "That's all," he said. "I didn't dare stay with it, or try and reach Wildcat through the beast. It's too... I'm not that strong. But she is. I just can't believe..."

Willow's headache seemed to be increasing, even if the lie-cloud was easing off as the beast moved away. Rubbing her forehead with one hand, she heard other Rats passing Rock's news on. Not all of them had been close enough to overhear. Several Rats then began making their way forward towards the greenhome.

"Dead Green. So we're too late," she murmured, preparing to follow them. "Oh, Wildcat."

Rock took hold of her hand. Together, they started to go towards the merrythorns. Then Willow glanced to one side and spotted Neamis and Garnet, coming towards them from further around the barrier made by the thicket.

"Here!" Neamis cried out, waving. "Easier way through. Big hole in trees where beast went in."

Garnet appeared to be struggling to remain on her feet. Neamis was having to support her.

"I expect she's tried to animal talk," Rock commented. "Come on. The beast went out on the other side of the greenhome. It won't come back this way."

Willow followed him along the edge of the thicket. Most of the other Rats had already begun pushing through the thorns straight ahead of them. Bee and Wood Wasp remained behind Willow.

Garnet's skin was greyish, her eyelids drooping closed. Willow tried to help Neamis hold her upright.

"Not now," Garnet snapped at her. "The Green are outside, freezing. Help them. Keep the strays away from them."

"Help's on its way," Rock assured Garnet. Even as he spoke, Wood Wasp and Bee were running past them, into the gap the beast had left through the merrythorns.

"Did I understand it right?" Rock asked. "Is Wildcat really riding that black beast?"

Willow saw Garnet look up at Rock. Whatever showed in Garnet's eyes at that moment must have answered his question. He said nothing more.

"We are too late," Neamis spoke slowly, his voice flat. "Too late to help Green or Wildcat. She rides beast. Garnet felt it, for certain. I think we have lost our Wild Cat. She was alone."

"We tried, Neamis," Garnet assured him. "We tried, but we came too late and the beast was too much for us. And Wildcat did not want us to help her. We can not help her now, but we can help the Green."

Willow stared at Neamis.

"Is Wildcat talent-lost?" she asked him.

He gave no answer.

Rock did not move towards the greenhome. "I'll keep tracking the beast," he said. "Garnet should rest for a while. Plenty of Rats have gone to help the Green, now the lie-cloud's easing. But two Green are dead. That may be what..."

He sounded reluctant to finish speaking. In any case, he was interrupted, as Joren and Hest clambered out from the thicket some distance away. Before Willow could call out, Joren noticed the four of them and hurried in their direction, quickly followed by Hest.

"How much d' ye know about what's gone on?" Joren asked. Then, without waiting for an answer, he continued. "Th' strays've all run off. Th' beast's gone, too, leaving a trail of smashed plants. Th' Green have all come out. Merel's with them. Rats are going t' help get them all back safe inside. Strays dug into the greenhome t' get at the dusk pile, but th' beast came before they got any out. Rats'll fill in th' hole, n' feed the Green back to sleep. Merel says that should keep 'em warm enough. But the two Green killed by strays were from the other Greenhome. That, I don't understand."

He paused, getting his breath back. As he did so, Willow saw his glance run over Garnet, noticing the state she was in.

"Stripes and Star. The little one's parents. Both dead," Garnet confirmed. "They died quickly. Stabbed with hunting knives by the strays."

Willow clenched her hands into fists, trying to force herself to think clearly through a wave of fury and despair. Before she could say anything, Hest spoke for the first time.

"Merel asked me to let you know they can manage at the greenhome," he said, looking directly at Willow. "He thought you might want to track Wildcat and the beast."

"Someone should go to the other greenhome," Willow said, keeping her words under tight control. There was much to be done. She pushed away all of the feelings that might interfere with sensible, practical thought.

"Hornet's already on her way there," Hest answered her. "Though we're sure the rest of those Green are still asleep."

"You n' me could go there, too, Hest," Joren suggested. "There's enough Rats here now, to do what else needs t' be done. Hornet could probably use help t' guard that second greenhome. We can't be sure exactly what the strays know about sleeping Green, can we? Best keep an extra watch on both places, just in case."

Hest nodded in agreement.

Willow turned to Rock, eager to get going in search of Wildcat. "Can you walk and track the beast at the same time?" she asked him. "Can you rat-talk with Wildcat? I don't think I can. Every time I try, the beast makes me dizzy. It's like rat-talking takes me closer – back inside the lie-cloud again, even though I'm not really there."

"Same for me," added Garnet. "Up to you, Rock."

"I can do it," he replied. "Just stay close, Willow. In case I trip over a root or something. The beast doesn't walk all that fast, but it does cover a lot of ground with each step. We should get going before they're both out of my range."

"I've a message fer ye," Joren called out, just as they were turning to go. "Fr'm Wildcat. It's... well, I'm almost afraid to say it."

"Say quickly, please Joren," Neamis replied.

"She said, 'please tell Willow and Neamis and Garnet I'm sorry. I tried, but it didn't work out'," Joren answered.

Willow closed her eyes for a moment. The words were difficult to bear. She did not fully understand, but could guess well enough. Wildcat would risk her own life in order to make up for whatever mistake she thought she might have made.

They set off in silence, leaving the merrythorns behind. Hest and Joren were with them at first, but soon split off on a different route, towards the second greenhome.

Rock picked up the trail of the black beast, then they were able to follow a pathway of trampled and crushed plants. Willow kept pace with Rock, at the front. Neamis followed, with one arm around Garnet who was clearly exhausted. There was no question of leaving her behind.

Willow kept her talent shut away as far as possible. Yet the lie-cloud's effects still increased as she got nearer to the black beast. Sounds of the Forest shuddering beneath the storm winds blocked out any noises of the beast's movements. Eventually, Willow thought she could see a shaggy patch of darkness filling the open sky ahead, at the edge of a small glade. It was only visible for a brief instant, behind the swaying crown of a hoarwhittle tree. Then it was gone.

Considerably out of breath, she paused to rest for a moment. The effect of the beast on her mind was becoming strong enough to make her feel sick.

Rock leant forward, his hands on his thighs, breathing heavily. "How can Wildcat stand to get so close and keep herself together?" he whispered, panting.

Garnet had begun to walk unaided, and was looking slightly stronger than before. Willow caught the wolf woman's fond glance towards the trees ahead. Garnet was clearly very worried, but her expression also held a tiny hint of pride.

The beast must have altered its position. All of a sudden, it became clearly visible in the distance. It was pushing its huge shoulders in between two closely spaced trees to force a way between them. As it turned, Willow caught a glimpse of Wildcat. The young marsh woman looked tiny in comparison to the enormous animal. She sat right up on its neck.

"Oh, great bulls balls! Oh, Wildcat. No!" Willow shouted. She had to gasp to take in air as her chest tightened up with fear for her friend.

Garnet did not speak, but Willow heard her give a long sigh.

"Take care, my Wild Cat," whispered Neamis.

Willow could not resist an impulse to start forward, even though there was no real chance of catching up with the beast. It could easily out-distance them whenever it chose to. Rock's hand on Willow's arm held her back. The beast turned its head to one side, perhaps attempting to look over its shoulder at them.

"Careful," Rock said. "It knows we're here. We should climb a tree, so it's not tempted to come back and stamp on us. It probably won't go to all the bother of reaching for us through a load of branches. It's only just fed, but it's still hungry. I think Wildcat's talent is linked with it, now. She might be trying to guide it, and I think she's been struggling. It really wanted to turn back and feed some more. That's why it's been travelling slow enough for us to keep up. Wildcat's been trying to persuade it to go home. I think she's getting better at it, now."

Willow felt like freezing to the spot, now that the beast appeared to see her. Its mind had started pressing into her own, using its size in an attempt to convince her she could not escape.

Rock squeezed her hand. Together, they made a move towards the nearest climbable tree. By the time she and Rock had begun to look for handholds, Garnet and Neamis were already half-way to the crown.

The beast roared, lunging in their direction, although it was a good ten trees away. Wildcat looked tiny, settled into its long, rough neck fur.

Keeping an eye on Garnet and Neamis up above, Willow and Rock climbed. At last, all four of them were a long way off the ground. They then settled themselves securely. It had taken a huge amount of concentration for Willow to climb in the presence of the lie-cloud. She knew it must have been just as difficult for Neamis and Garnet. From the relative safety of some high, solid perches, they now looked through the tree tops towards the place where the black beast had been.

It had not moved. Wildcat stood up on the animal's shoulder. With one hand clutching its neck fur, she raised the other. She held two knives, which fanned out like a pair of metal feathers. Slowly and deliberately, she waved them, as though signalling goodbye.

Somehow, Wildcat appeared to know exactly where her friends were, even if she could not see them with her own eyes. Wildcat made no sound that Willow could hear. Yet there was a reaching out of talent. Willow caught it.

Without even considering her own safety, she _listened_. It was obvious that Wildcat's own talent was now stretched to its extreme limits. And Wildcat knew that she could not keep on riding the beast forever. She was taking it far away from the Green, back to its usual territory. But when it got there, Willow understood that her friend expected to be forest-lost, or talent-lost. By then, Wildcat would have used up all her strength, and would probably end up as prey to the black beast.

The two blades in Wildcat's hand were no longer held in the manner of weapons. It was as though the greatest hunter of the marshes had now chosen to become something else.

As Willow tried to answer Wildcat with a rat-shout, she knew that Neamis, Garnet, and Rock were all trying to do the same. They were all directing their thoughts at the marsh woman with as much strength as they could, and they were all saying the same thing. Their talents seemed to merge together. The four of them all tried to call Wildcat back. They tried to convince her to save herself and let go of the black beast. There had to be another way of keeping the Rats and the greenhomes safe from it.

Wildcat did not reply. Instead, she shut her friends out of her mind completely. The beast lowered its forelegs, then continued on its way. Wildcat rode with it. It began to pick up speed.

Soon, the pair were hidden from Willow's sight. In spite of the lie-cloud, Willow used talent to try and keep track of them. As she did so, she was aware of the flavour of Rock's talent close beside her. His previous experiences had clearly taught him very fine control. She no longer feared he would be overcome by the beast's defences. Rock's strength was steady, and he was keeping much of himself walled off. He appeared to be safely holding out against the beast, while studying its mind.

Rock was letting Willow take in some of the information he picked up. She thought he was even managing to do the same for Garnet and Neamis. The effort of listening was exhausting, even though Rock was doing most of the work. In the end, Willow pulled her attention back into herself, before she risked falling out of the tree.

"Rock," she said quietly, "we should climb down. I don't think the beast will turn round. We don't need to stay up here anymore. And we're underneath Neamis and Garnet. Let's get out of their way."

He did not answer immediately, but she knew he would need a few moments to get his head straight after he stopped animal talking.

"All right," he finally agreed.

A little later, all four of them climbed down to the ground. Then, after a quick check to make sure there were no large predatory animals or poisonous plants in the vicinity, they settled themselves for a long, sorrowful wait.

There was no need to discuss a strategy, because it was obvious. Wildcat and the beast were now going too far and too fast for anyone to continue tracking them on foot. Whatever was going to happen to Wildcat would be over long before any of her friends could get to her.

"Can you still animal talk with them?" Willow asked Rock, after she had judged him slightly recovered from his earlier efforts.

"Yes," he replied, sounding tired, but resigned.

"Can you share with us, Rock?" begged Neamis.

"Yes, I'll try. And... I think Merel and some of the Green are still a bit awake. I think they're trying to help. Or it may just be they want to track the beast... or Wildcat. I think they'll join with me if I ask them. Get comfortable, now. Let's see how much we can share between our talents. Then – whatever happens – Wildcat will not go alone."

Willow huddled beside him on snow covered earth. Opening up to her talent, she followed his lead. At the edges of her awareness, there was a flavour of the Green, as well as Garnet's and Neamis's distinctive talents. The Green's influence eventually seemed to make everyone's talents merge together.

Privately, Willow was rather concerned for the Green. She felt sure they must be very cold and sleepy. Yet it seemed they knew just how much Wildcat had wanted to protect them, and they would honour her. Even when all that anyone could do was keep watch, from the far distance. Rock's ability to animal talk inside the lie-cloud allowed the Green to do this. In return, they were doing what they could to strengthen his talent.

For a long time, there was little else for Willow to take in. With the help of Rock and the Green, she followed the beast's relentless passage through forest. All the while, she could feel Wildcat's determination to complete the ride, no matter where it ended.

Wildcat still held both knives, yet she also clutched onto hanks of fur to keep herself from falling off the beast's neck. Her strongest emotion seemed to be a feeling of great triumph, allowing no room for any fear or regret. Meanwhile, the beast only wanted to get back to familiar territory and to hunt well.

When the black beast finally did go inside its usual territory, Willow's own senses told her it was almost dusk. As Willow sat on the ground, far, away from Wildcat and the beast, she saw what her friend saw. Sometimes, she could feel a little of what her friend felt.

The beast arrived at its hibernation lair, a wide, deep depression in the earth, surrounded by boulders, not far from a stream. Willow knew that Wildcat was exhausted, hungry, thirsty and in pain from her weakened shoulder.

Since Wildcat and Rock were both animal talking with the black beast, Willow could tell that all the animal really wanted now was to sleep. Yet it could not do so. That man with nasty clothes and hard, sharp parts, had not been nearly enough food to keep it alive until spring. The beast must eat more. Much more.

At last, the beast came to a stop. Willow felt Wildcat force her own sore arms and legs to move so that she could finally dismount. The beast's fur was coarse, long and shaggy, coated with snow on the tips of the hairs.

Wildcat allowed the two knives to slip from her numb fingers. They fell into the snow without a sound. She did not glance down after them.

Wildcat's four friends and the Green could only witness whatever happened next if Wildcat allowed it. She knew they were still with her.

Willow caught a hint of a kind of rat-talking that passed between Wildcat, Neamis and Garnet. Wildcat was concerned for the baby of the two Green killed by the strays. Understanding the message was aimed at Wildcat's lovers alone, Willow did not respond. Instead, she shifted her own body a little closer to Rock.

Then, just for a moment, Willow allowed her contact with Wildcat to drop. She felt the need for a short pause before rejoining her friend.

Willow opened her eyes, just as Garnet suddenly lifted her head to look across at her. "Two knives ready, for so long," Garnet said aloud. "But she did not kill."

Rock stirred at Willow's side. She thought he must still be animal talking with a part of his mind, but his eyes were focussed on her, blinking. His gaze flicked towards Garnet.

"Wildcat... I mean, I think she might have had a plan at the beginning," he said. "But she must have got herself all mixed up with the beast by the end. She rode it for so long. How could anyone keep themselves apart? Most of the Green don't even try that."

"Is it too late for her to make the kill now?" Willow asked. It was a hopeless question. She already knew the answer.

"The end, you said," Garnet spoke to Rock. Her voice was flat, carrying no emotion at all.

A moment later, Neamis gave a sharp cry.

Then he spoke. His voice was very quiet. "Return. The end comes," he whispered.

Willow prepared to return her mind to the connection Rock had been holding with Wildcat and the beast. Before she even reached it, her thoughts were overtaken by a sudden, startlingly fierce rat-shout. It was Wildcat, purely herself, without the beast. The message was not formed in words, yet it was clear beyond any doubt.

It was a request to be remembered without regret, as part of the Forest, no longer separate. As water returning to the sea. As breath returning to the sky. As forest food and forest soil.

A wider-ranging echo followed, reaching out towards any Green and other Rats who were in a position to hear it.

Then the inside of Willow's head fell silent.

Pushed away, forced back into herself, Willow looked around. The Forest had grown darker.

Rock took her hands in his. He was no longer animal talking. Willow looked at him questioningly and he shook his head.

"I can't," he said. "Don't ask me."

Behind him, Garnet and Neamis were embracing. Their distress was so obvious that Willow had to look away.

For many heartbeats, all Willow could manage was to clutch at Rock's hands in silence, breathing shallowly.

Eventually, she drew in a longer, slower breath. Letting the air flow out again, she blinked several times.

Willow thought she knew what Wildcat had done. Her friend had thrown all of herself out into Forest, no longer keeping any part of herself separate from it.

"Not forest-lost. More like forest-found," Rock said wonderingly, echoing Willow's thoughts exactly.

Willow's hands closed into fists as she tried to stop herself from trembling. Yet she needed to fully understand what her friend had done, and so she sorted her thoughts by speaking them out loud. "She saw herself as equal to the beast. They were hunter and prey, but in the end, she had no idea which was which. Maybe she could have killed it. She had her knives ready the whole time."

"Yet she did not," Neamis added. Looking up, Willow realised that he was now standing.

Garnet was on her feet as well, and pacing about as though to warm herself.

"Wild she is, and wild she ends," pronounced Garnet. "Our friend is dead. Our lover is dead. I have no doubt about it. I am certain."

There was nothing Willow could say to offer comfort to Neamis or to Garnet. Letting go of Rock's hands, she wrapped her own arms around her chest, feeling a need to hold together. She felt Rock place his hands on her shoulders.

"I know it, too. She's dead," Willow murmured very quietly. Turning to look round at Rock, she saw him nod briefly, in agreement.

"Neamis and I must go to the greenhome of the two murdered Green," Garnet said.

"We go now," Neamis added. He was looking at Willow. It was getting dark, yet she could see the tears on his cheeks. "We must find the baby," he explained. "Wildcat told us that is what we must do next."

Willow understood that it was good for them to have a task to do while they lived through the shock of loss. But she did not offer to go with them.

As night fell, she stayed huddled up against Rock on the snowy ground. Each of them remained closed in their own thoughts. Slowly and painfully, they were now going to have to accept what Wildcat had done, and what had happened to her.

TWENTY-FIVE – ROCK

Nothing more was seen or heard of the gang of strays who had attacked the greenhome. Rock was glad they were gone, and yet he hated not knowing exactly what they had been up to. None of the Rats had any idea how the strays had even known the greenhome was there.

The coming of spring was slow. Rock was painfully hungry most of the time. Wildcat's death had also left him with a miserable ache that never went away. Both of these pains seemed to mix in together, leaving him constantly weary and unhappy.

Winter deaths were common among the Rats. Everyone agreed that those newly arrived in Forest were more often killed by animals, plants, insects, falls from trees, or getting talent-lost. But then, after their first winter, the surviving Rats would no longer be strengthened by reserves of nourishment from their previous lives. From then on, they were at greater risk of dying from festering wounds or winter coughs.

All Forest Rats soon got used to living with grief. Rock found himself accompanied by others whenever he worked outside the cavern. He knew people were watching to check he did not step into a bog, or sit on a never-touch thorn by mistake.

He was inside the cavern with Willow when Durnas staggered in, coughing uncontrollably. In between gasps, Durnas was eventually able to say that she had found a bread-root growing next to a cough-dust seedhead. One bread-root could nourish five people for several days. Foolishly, but understandably, Durnas had tried to dig the root.

Later, Willow told Rock that if Durnas had not already been weak from lack of food, she might have easily survived the cough-dust attack. Willow and the other tree speakers did everything they could, but Durnas died that same night.

Rock knew that cold, tiredness and hunger could make anyone stupid. So he tried not to feel angry. Durnas had only been trying to help the group survive. And yet, just like Wildcat, she had made everything so much worse.

Then, one sunny morning, the Harvesters returned. Their arrival was spotted by Riverweave, a stone listener. Rock caught the general rat-warning she sent out.

Riverweave had been in a tree platform, watching over the snow covered deadland for strays. Instead, she had noticed a line of harvest workers and wagons on the distant road. Rats immediately went to join her, but before anyone could get there, she rat-called again. She was hurt, caught in the leg by a spear thrown by someone she had not even seen.

Rock set off for the harvest edge at once, but several other Rats were closer. He met them as they were returning with Riverweave's body. It was clear she had sewn up her own wound with stitchbark and had not died from loss of blood. Tree speakers soon established that the spear had carried some kind of poison. A stray could have thrown it, perhaps mistaking Riverweave for an edible animal. Or a harvest worker might have come scouting ahead of the Harvest run.

The Rats kept the spear after cleaning it thoroughly, setting it aside for use in hunting meat. Riverweave had been well loved, but no one thought it wrong to use the weapon that had killed her to help the rest to survive.

The snow was beginning to melt. It was not long before the Green awoke and left their greenhomes. For their first few days awake, they were recovering from the effects of dusk, so did not communicate much with the Rats. However, Merel was quickly told which of the Rats had died while he had been sleeping.

Garnet and Neamis were still caring for the Green baby, known to everyone as the little one. Various tree speakers, including Willow, had chosen a mixture of plant juices they hoped would be enough like the milk of his Green mother to keep him alive.

Rather to everyone's surprise, when the adult Green offered to take the little one back, it turned out he did not want to go. Rock learned this a short while later, from Merel, who said he had seen it for himself. Apparently, the child had clung to Neamis, making his own wishes very clear. The adult Green did not seem to mind. In fact, when Rock decided to ask some of them about it, he thought they appeared to like the idea of such a sharing between the two sorts of people.

Neamis and Garnet then chose to travel deeper into Forest, to take the little one further from the harvest. After they had gone, Rock felt even more sad and empty.

All the hunger, grief and cold of the long winter seemed to have pushed every other feeling out of him. When he looked at Willow, he only saw how thin she had become. They still slept together when they could, but they were usually both too tired, too cold, or too sad for love-play.

One morning, as they drank water from leaf-cups by a muddy stream, Rock was trying to decide what he ought to do that day. There was a light rain falling. It would be a good time to _talk_ with frogs, lizards and snail-snakes and warn them away from the harvest edge. They were starting to move from hibernation towards mating and spawning. The trouble was, harvest quite often messed up all the streams and ponds for a long way back from its edge. Even those creatures he persuaded to move would probably suffer and die anyway. He wondered if the whole effort would turn out to be pointless.

"Rock!" Willow's voice surprised him away from his thoughts. "You didn't hear anything I just said, did you?"

He looked at her, blinking. She came forward, taking his face in her hands.

"I know you're sad. And so am I. And tired," Willow said quietly. "Do you ever wonder if she's really dead?"

He did not need to ask who she was talking about. The starting point of Rock's present despair had been Wildcat's death.

"No. I've walked as close to the black beast's territory as I could get in a day, and tried animal talking. I know the beast is alive and well. I think she might be pregnant." His voice came out sounding flat and cold. "Having young will make her even more dangerous. No one should go looking for Wildcat's body, in case... I just couldn't bring myself to ask the beast if it..."

"No, of course not. I understand. Have you told Garnet and Neamis what you did find out?"

"Yes. At least, I've rat-talked with them. I knew it wouldn't make them feel any better, but I thought they had a right to know."

Willow drew breath to speak, but he interrupted her. "I should have told you, too, straight away. I meant to. It's just... I'm so tired..." He had really not wanted to talk about it much with anyone.

Dropping her hands from his face, she patted his shoulders. "I know," she said in a small whisper. He accepted it as a sign that she had forgiven him and that she understood.

"Wildcat cared so much about helping the Forest," Willow spoke up more loudly. "Sometimes, when I think of her, the memories actually help me to look forward."

"Do they?" Rock still could not force his voice to sound interested, but if Willow needed to talk, he was prepared to listen.

"Wildcat would never, ever give up. That wasn't what she was doing at the end. And I'm not just saying that to make myself feel better. You know it's true. She thought what she did was right, even if we don't agree with her." Willow spoke with passion.

"I understand she thought she was giving herself as a gift to Forest," he reluctantly agreed.

"You know how it is for a tree speaker, how picking and eating one plant does no harm, but if harvesters pick all of a certain kind of plant then it's murder, because then they've killed that plant forever?"

"But we're animals, not plants, and Wildcat was an animal talker before she was ever a tree speaker." Rock could not keep the irritability out of his voice.

"True, but I'm trying to say why the harvest is murder, and why Wildcat is dead to us, but alive in a different way, at least while the Forest still lives." Willow looked at him hesitantly, as though afraid he would argue. He said nothing, so she went on. "And... and I think that, for us, staying alive is also a gift to Forest. Forest is life, and life is change. Just as much as death is change. Please, Rock. We have to carry on. And we have to change... while we're still alive, I mean."

"Do you think the Rats should change how they fight the harvest? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

"I don't know. I just want... I want you to care."

"I do... I just..."

"It's all right. I don't know if I can really explain what I mean. Don't worry about it."

"Do you think just being alive is enough, for the moment? It might be all I can manage."

"Yes. Yes, I do. Be alive. Change comes by itself, if you let it... I think. Anyway, I have to go or the other tree speakers will be short-handed. We're working at the yellowmop patch by the second oak tree cache. I'll meet you back here tonight."

After she had gone, Rock felt something weighing him down. During that day's rat-work, he thought through what Willow had said, and he tried to care. He considered the Forest that surrounded him, and the harvest and the Harvesters, already expanding the deadland. Looking inside himself, Rock could not reach his own anger. Something blocked him from it.

Crouched on all fours, dropping his fingers into the dirt, he began animal talking with a snake curled under a pile of dry leaves. Imagining the vibrations of many feet hitting the ground, he tried to express to it that people were going to come here soon. Some time later, the snake uncurled and slipped away in the right direction. Perhaps, Rock hoped, its life might be a little longer because of the warning he had offered.

To live a little longer. That was all anyone could hope for. Wildcat had been so vibrant when Rock had first met her. Later, at the Bees' Nest, he had been well aware that she had disliked him, and she had often been deliberately rude. Yet she had always been honest, never trying to hide her feelings, as Rock had tried to do. In the end, he had come to admire her. But she was dead and he was still here. He was not certain he deserved that.

His thoughts had made him forget to straighten up and now his legs ached. Getting to his feet, he looked up. There was a tree-cat in the branches above his head. Trying not to scare it away, he cautiously gave a greeting, and a warning. Accepting the vision of coming disruption and danger he had sent, the cat prepared to spring from branch to branch, moving back from the harvest edge.

As it left, it sent a greeting of its own. Rock had to work hard to translate the thoughts of a small predator into ones he could easily understand. His best guess was something like, _live well_. He smiled.

Later, he found himself starting to consider a few things.

This harvest run had arrived surprisingly early. Rock had never known any other one to set off from the Spice City before spring. Before then, the Great Forest Road was covered in thick snow, and there was no fresh grass alongside it for horses or oxen to eat. When the snow melted, much of the road briefly flooded. Yet these Harvesters must have set off in winter. Rock supposed they could have taken advantage of some brief thaw, or they could have built some kind of runners instead of wheels for the wagons. He did not think it likely that large harvest wagons could have come by a different route, but smaller ones might have wintered in the low villages, like the Wanderers often did.

The following morning, Rock had a long rat-talking conversation with Bee, whom he then went to meet at the harvest edge. Willow had seemed pleased to find that Rock intended to make some investigations into the harvest run, but had not offered to join him. She was needed for tree speaking work. The tree speakers still cared for a number of sick Rats and kept up their stocks of medicines, as well as moving plants from the harvest edge.

Unfortunately, it was impossible for Rock and Bee to watch the harvest from any point that would allow him to see the parked wagons clearly. They could not get close enough without being seen. This new run always seemed to keep a few harvest workers standing with their backs to the others, as if on guard. To Rock, they looked a lot like predator animals marking territory, warning off others of their own kind.

In the end, the two Rats decided to climb into the lookout tree from which Riverweave had first caught sight of the harvest run. It was far enough from the edge to remain secret, but was the closest of the Rats' secure platforms.

"What I think is this, Bee," Rock said, speaking quietly, although there were no Harvesters close enough to hear them. "Some powerful city Harvesters are competing with each other. This run that came so early is definitely not made up of the same workers that were been here before the winter. They even smell different."

Bee sniffed, as though in agreement. "And have you been thinking' on why that might be?" he asked. "Thinking' as a man, I mean, not an animal... reasoning it out?"

"I have, yes. But it's only a guess, obviously."

"Go on," Bee encouraged him.

"Well, I wonder if they might be trying to steal harvest from those who had previously opened up this part of the Forest."

"Oh. I see." Bee was silent for a while, as though considering this possibility. "It's a worry, isn't it, then?" he went on at last. "What's going to happen when those others get here? Are we going to find ourselves in the middle of a fight between two runs? No wonder these workers go about with weapons ready all the time."

All of the Rats who had stayed to work near the harvest edge now had to keep themselves very well hidden. They were learning to be almost as clever at it as the Green. Harvest workers seemed to be looking out for them, and they chased away any Rat they spotted, although no one else had yet been killed like Riverweave.

"Or worse," Rock replied. "They might all join together against us Rats."

"Yes," the older man agreed. "Maybe it's time for you to move back from them, at that. Why don't you and Willow take a few baskets of young plants deep into untouched forest for replanting. You could visit with Neamis and Garnet and that little Green baby."

"But we're needed here," Rock answered Bee. "Neamis and Garnet have to be away from the Harvest so they can keep the little one safe. But you're not going away, are you? And I think there's still something I could do here, even if I'm not exactly sure what, yet."

"More of the city in you still. Is that it?" Bee asked. "You can use what you remember? I think I feel the same, and Willow reminded me of that when she called me out for not telling you I came here from the Bees' Nest. Though, like you, I still don't know how to use what I know. If we could have learned far-talking from Flight, maybe I'd have kept in touch with Syme, but we didn't, so I can't."

They watched the harvest run until full dark, but saw nothing to add evidence to Rock's guesswork. Rock found that he did not mind too much about that. For the first time since Wildcat's death, the day's end brought him a feeling of satisfaction. He realised that he had felt interested in watching the Harvesters, even if he had not, in the end, discovered anything useful.

After parting company with Bee, Rock's route led him close to the offering tree. The bodies of the little one's parents, Durnas, and Riverweave, and all the others who had died, now rested there. Rock was careful to keep clear of the foot of the tree trunk. The area around an offering tree always smelled terrible. He could not help being repelled by it.

Rock had asked Merel how the Green would have chosen to treat the bodies of their own, if the circumstances had not been so unusual. Merel had said that Green who died in summer might be weighted with stones, then carried out to the centre of a deep lake and allowed to sink. Or they might be buried under a mound of stones and soft earth. Those who died during the winter hibernation would normally become frozen after being edged out of the living mass of sleeping Green. At the spring awakening, the dead were generally walled into the interior sides of a greenhome with fresh mud or other building materials.

If the little one had not been taken by Neamis and Garnet, Rock thought the child might have died while the other Green slept. From what he had been able to learn since they had awakened, the details of what had happened while they slept did not interest them. They were almost plant-like in the way they did not worry about things they had no control over.

Rock skirted the offering tree and carried on towards the particular circle of amenberry stems where he and Willow intended to spend that night. He was over half way there when he caught a jubilant, wide ranging rat-shout from a woman named Irin.

Forcing open his tired eyes, Rock _listened_ for more information. Like himself and Willow, Irin was both tree speaker and animal talker. A quiet young woman of twenty-or-so summers, she had grown up somewhere in the low villages. Irin was saying that she had just managed to _talk_ with her younger brother in her home village.

Rock had barely thought about far-talking since Wildcat's death. He had come to assume it was impossible, just as Bee thought, and Neamis had always insisted. And yet, Rock had always found Irin to be both serious and honest. He did not think she would deliberately lie about such a thing.

Irin dropped out of contact immediately after that brief, wide-ranging rat-shout. Nevertheless, a great deal of general rat-talking by others followed it. Rock continued walking along as he listened in. Some Rats were immediately filled with excitement, while others thought Irin must have been mistaken. Only a few actually suggested she might have been lying. For the first time since Wildcat's death, Rock thought he might even be starting to feel excited.

Eventually, a lot of the Rats agreed to meet up, back at the entrance to the winter cavern. It was far enough away from the harvest edge for a gathering that was not likely to be spotted by any Harvesters. Rock immediately changed direction, following a pack-grannel trail between two hazel trees. He knew the trail ended at a stream that would lead him to the cavern if he followed it.

By the time he got to the cavern entrance, Irin had still not arrived yet. However, Rock quickly spotted Willow among those Rats already waiting. Leaves, seeds and small twigs decorated her hair.

"Minnet branches," she explained, as he pulled out the worst of them for her. "The wind blew them away from the harvest edge, and some still had last summer's seeds on them. We've been collecting the seed to plant in deeper Forest."

Sitting side by side on the rocky ground, they watched as Irin was finally brought to the gathering. Ash and Jinnet had made a cradle from their crossed arms to carry her.

"She looks like she's asleep," Willow commented. "Does that mean she was only dreaming, after all?"

Rock had no idea, so he said nothing. Others around them loudly and rudely expressed their own opinions. There were fewer Rats at Tall Trees Side than had gathered at the cavern in winter. Many had now returned to deeper Forest to do their rat-work. Rock counted fifteen outside the cavern, including himself, Irin and her companions.

Jinnet shouted out to quieten everyone. Then Ash began to explain that the experience of far-talking seemed to have left Irin completely exhausted. The two women carefully settled her on the ground and someone fetched her some water. All the noise had obviously woken her and she began to look around at the others.

"It was exactly like hearing the words of my brother," she explained. "Except the words came in my own voice. Not my speech voice, but the one I use to talk to myself in my own head. It was very, very tiring."

"You were dreaming, girl!" Wood Wasp interrupted.

Rock saw Bee turn and punch the man on the shoulder.

"Hush, let's hear her out, can't we?" said Bee. Then he addressed Irin. "Can you tell us what was different to all the other times you had tried."

"He means how come you managed it when no one else can?" added Hornet. "How do we get it right, Irin?"

"Don't try to imagine the other person's voice," Irin advised her listeners. "That's where I was wrong before. Instead, you need to... well, let me think. It's... it's more like opening your inside ears to listen to them. Get their attention with your need to speak. Then open yourself to hear them. It's not until after the connection comes that they seem to be open to hear you, too. Once that happens, then you can talk to them in your usual mind-voice. Though I think they will hear your words in their own voice. I think that's why it's so important to be able to imagine the other person's point of view. When the link comes, you both need to know whose words you're hearing. You have to recognise the words that are not your own."

If Wildcat had been there, Rock thought she would have nudged his knee with her own. Or even burst out with a comment. Then he remembered she had not heard the talk in the cavern over winter, anyway. She might not even have known that Rock had insisted far-talking was to do with imagining another person's point of view.

It came as a shock to recognise how much Wildcat had isolated herself over that winter. Guilt rolled through Rock's chest. It was too late, now, to try and put things right.

The meeting outside the cavern was short. Irin soon closed her eyes and it was clear she needed to be allowed to rest.

Rock and Willow made their way to their amenberry home. On the way, they stole two eggs from a bird's nest and ate them with handfuls of new spring leaves. Then Rock asked Willow if she thought either of them could have got Wildcat to spend time inside the cavern that winter.

"No," was her initial, abrupt reply. Then she was silent for a good many heartbeats.

Rock was not sure how to respond. He guessed that she probably felt even more guilt than he did himself. Perhaps it had been cruel of him to ask.

Willow looked towards him, at last. "I've thought and thought about just that kind of question," she said. "I didn't know it bothered you, too. I should have done. Sorry. You and Wildcat didn't start out as good friends, so it was easy to forget you'd been getting closer to each other, hadn't you?"

Rock did not answer.

"But she knew where to find us, and she chose not to come," Willow continued. "I've been rat-talking quite a lot with Neamis. He says he and Garnet always followed Wildcat using her talent, wherever she went. They always knew where she was. But after she started tracking the beast that was wounded in the eye, Neamis says she gradually shut her thoughts off from them. In the end, he and Garnet both pleaded with her to spend more time with them, or with me, or to go the cavern. She wouldn't. And they couldn't force her to."

"Has anyone rat-talked with Neamis to tell him what Irin says she's done?"

"Of course." Willow's reply made Rock feel an idiot for not having thought earlier about doing so. "I have, but other Rats had already told him. He knew all about it."

"And...?"

"He said he was pleased, though it must be hard for him. Flight should have been the first Rat to use far-talking. He will try again, himself. He didn't suggest Irin was imagining it or dreaming."

"Do you believe she really did it?" Rock asked her.

"I hope it's true, but there's no way to prove it, is there?"

"But Neamis accepted it straight away? At least he told you he did. And he was so close to Flight, he knows more about far-talking than anyone else here. I'll rat-talk with him tomorrow."

Willow smiled. "You can rat-talk with Garnet, too, if you want," she said. "I won't mind."

"What about trying to far-talk?" Rock asked. "However much they think Irin imagined it, every Rat's bound to keep trying to do it themselves."

"I might," Willow agreed. "What about you?"

"Probably." But Rock found himself letting out a long sigh, without meaning to. All of a sudden, his enthusiasm disappeared, leaving him feeling sad and dull again, for no particular reason.

Willow leaned forward and grasped both his wrists, pulling him towards her.

"It's something we can do," she whispered. "Something to aim for, even when it seems hopeless. Give it a go, it can't hurt."

Over the next few days, Rock tried to do as Willow had asked, even though he felt flat and tired most of the time. Whenever he got a few quiet moments, he attempted to follow Irin's suggestions, reaching out to various talented people he knew well, still convinced he had been right all along about how it worked, in theory. He tried Syme Deadlander, Sparkle, Rinnet, Young Timber, and several young Wanderer animal talkers he had once been friendly with. Willow said she was also trying to talk with Rinnet, Sparkle and Syme, as well as Flax in Warner, Naesy at the Bees' Nest, and Kezzy, Blueripple and Whisper in the marshes. Neither Rock nor Willow had any success.

Then two more harvest runs arrived at the forest edge within a day of one another. These must have left the Spice City at the start of spring, as was usual. All the Rats of Tall Trees Side suddenly found themselves having to divide their attentions between three different sections of harvest. Groups of harvest workers armed with spears were spotted in unharvested places close to the deadland, although no one knew if they intended to fight Rats, large animals, or each other.

More Rat talk reached Tall Trees Side from other Forest Rats in other places. It soon became obvious that many more harvest runs were also arriving elsewhere. Forest Rats along the whole length of the harvest edge became so busy that rat-talk had to be reduced to brief exchanges of essential information. Nevertheless, the news of Irin's far-talking had spread. The sudden need for increased rat-work did not quite dampen down a general enthusiasm for far-talking research.

Irin continued to report back what she said she had learned from her brother in the low villages. She also warned that far-talking was strangely tiring. Her advice was that anyone attempting it should be watched over by a partner. Several people volunteered to keep watch for her. Rock was not sure if they were hoping to pick up the skill for themselves, or to catch Irin out in a lie. He asked Neamis, through rat-talking, if Flight had been equally tired out after she had far-talked. Neamis agreed that she had.

One night, he was so bored and miserable, he decided to try it again for himself. He was lying alone on a bed of last summer's dead leaves. Willow had gone out to dig up clumps of spinnet grass from the harvest edge while most of the Harvesters were sleeping. Rock was unhappy, achingly tired and dispirited. All day he had been talking to frightened and confused animals who could not understand what the harvest was doing to the forest around them, and did not grasp why Rock was telling them to flee. He was certain many of them had already been warned away the previous day.

Rock found himself thinking of Syme Deadlander. Syme had always been very good at arguing against the kind of despair that Rock now felt. The old man had continued leading his band of drummers through the city in spite of all the harassment they had faced, from elders people and ordinary workers alike. Syme insisted that truth should be spoken, whether people wanted to hear it or not.

Rock had already tried to far-talk Syme countless times before. He was not really expecting any more success than usual, but he could not sleep. Perhaps the far-shout he used to call out for Syme's attention was particularly desperate. Or perhaps his need for comfort made him especially open to hearing Syme's reply. However it came about, this time, to his astonishment, it worked.

" _What the..? Rock? Is that you, boy? Is this a dream? I didn't think I was asleep. Are we animal talking? Are you in the Forest?"_ It was Syme's words, in Rock's own thoughts, just as Irin had said it would be.

It came as such a surprise, Rock nearly fell back into himself and lost the contact. Willing himself out beyond his physical body, he strained to direct all of his thought at holding on to the connection with Syme.

" _It's me, Syme! Yes, it's Rock. I'm in the Forest. The talents are different here. Forest seems to make them stronger."_

" _So now you can animal talk to people? Over such a distance?"_

" _Not exactly. This is new kind of talent. We call it far-talking. Only the Wanderers knew about it before, and only one of them could do it. But Forest seems to help. We're learning..."_

" _You made it, then? You're in the Forest? That's truly wonderful news. Willow and Wildcat, too?"_

" _Willow and Wildcat made it, too. And all of the Green. But..."_

" _Can I do it too? This far-talking. Now you've shown me how? I mean, can I far-talk someone else?"_ Syme caught on fast.

Haltingly, Rock tried to explain to Syme about Flight and far-talking. And how Irin had then taught herself to do it. It was all so strange that Rock could not help wondering if he was imagining the whole experience, or dreaming. He felt the connection with Syme begin to slip away from him.

" _You still there boy? I'm listening hard, but it's tiring work. Is this actually real? I've not been drinking ale, I know that."_

At Syme's words, the connection seemed to strengthen. That was not something Rock had ever known to happen in his dreams before. Some of his confidence returned, and with it, a renewed feeling of contact with Syme Deadlander.

" _Bee!"_ Rock answered, in a moment of inspiration. _"You never told us about a Rat called Bee. He says he named himself after the Bees' Nest, though I don't know what name he used before."_

It was almost as though he felt Syme's surprise as well as hearing his reply. _"Harlit Yellowdyer. That was his name before he left us for the Forest. After he got there he sent me back a gift of honeywood nuts. Well, that beats all, friend Rock. Wish him well from me. Tell him I lost two crow feathers, but the rest are still safe in my hat."_

Taking advantage of the pause that followed, Rock quickly told Syme what had happened to Wildcat. Not being sure how long the far-talking could continue, he wanted to get across the most important information before it ended.

" _That's bad news all right, boy. Very bad."_ Then Syme's words in Rock's head stopped for a time, yet Rock did not think their connection was gone. Eventually, Syme spoke again. _"I'll let all at the Bees' Nest know, straight away. We'll do a drumming for her here."_

Rock knew there would also be much talk at the Bees' Nest about how Syme had found out what happened to Wildcat. It was more than likely they would not believe him.

Once more, Rock's attention momentarily dropped away from the far-talking. As their connection started to fray, he thought Syme was trying to hold it in place.

" _How are you Syme? How's everyone at the Bees' Nest?"_ Rock returned to the conversation. Trying not to sink too far into misery, he babbled on, describing the Forest. _"It's raining here, but we're just sleeping on the ground, on a bed of leaves, as normal. As long as its under a tree with plenty of leaves, the rain only drips down in certain places, so we keep dry. The insects are getting nippy, now the weather's warming. I already spend a lot of_ _time warning them off and apparently this is nothing compared to summer."_

Remembering, suddenly, that Syme knew all about the insects, he stopped. Syme had been on one of the very first harvest runs.

" _What's happening in the city?"_ Rock asked quickly.

" _Well now, quite a lot, that's for sure. All's well at the Bees' Nest for now. But this far-talking you Rats have invented's hard work, see. I'm not sure how long I can keep up with you."_

" _Tell me quickly what's most important for me to know,"_ he responded.

Syme did not hesitate. _"Rust Dewsinger left the Bees' Nest,"_ he reported. _"And, Red Dawnweaver came asking after Willow. She tried to get Naesy back, but the girl's still here."_

As Rock heard his mother's name, he felt his concentration slip.

" _I'm too tired, Syme,"_ he managed. _"We'll do this again."_

" _I should go over to Sparkle's cottage right now and tell her about this. She'll think I've been swallowing ale since sundown. One more thing, boy. Your father won't give up. I fear..."_

That was the last comment Rock was able to pick up. He let go of the far-talking connection. To his surprise, the rain had stopped and the sky was beginning to lighten with the dawn.

His first thought was that he must have fallen asleep and the contact with Syme had only been a dream, after all. Yet he ached all over, as though he had been running all night instead of sleeping. He moved his head, preparing to sit up. Suddenly the trees all around seemed to tilt sideways. Shutting his eyes tightly, Rock had to lie back down. Still feeling worn out, he fell asleep moments later.

He came awake to find Willow shaking him by the arm. Sunshine fell through the tree canopy from directly overhead. It had to be close to noon. Willow began checking his pulse and feeling the heat of his forehead.

"Are you ill?" she asked. "Or just tired? I don't think you're feverish."

"Uh, tired. That's all." Rock sat up. Slowly this time. The trees around them remained stable. He blinked a few times, just to make sure.

"I thought... Well I might have only been dreaming. I thought I was far-talking with Syme last night."

"Really? What if it wasn't a dream? Maybe you really did it."

"I'm not sure. Anyway, if I did, I told him about Wildcat. And he gave me a message for Bee. So if I pass it on and Bee says it's nonsense, then I can be sure it was only a dream."

Willow's enthusiasm was irritating. She was going to be disappointed if he had been mistaken. And then he would feel bad for letting her down, even though he had warned her.

Willow tried straight away to reach Syme herself, but got no answer.

"You should sleep, anyway," he told her. "Did you come straight here from planting up those grasses?"

"Yes, but I slept all through the day yesterday." She yawned, proving him to be correct about her need to rest.

"I think I could sleep all day, now," he said. "Come on down here and join me. We'll get up and find food before sunset and I'll come out with you tonight."

"All right then."

Sunlight warmed their leafy bed. It did not take Rock long to fall asleep once more, with Willow at his side.

Later, for the second time, he woke to find Willow shaking his arm.

"I did it! Rock, wake up! I just far-talked with Sparkle," Willow was saying. "Wake up and let me tell you, please, before I go back to sleep again. I'm just so tired, but it can't wait."

Rock sat up, just as Willow let go of his arm and lay back down with her eyes shut.

"Oh dear," she murmured.

It was that, as much as anything, that convinced him Willow might not have been dreaming. Her reaction to what she thought she had done was so similar to his own.

"Take it easy, there's no hurry to tell me everything," he said.

"Yes there is, because Sparkle gave me a warning." She spoke without opening her eyes. "I think she must have been looking out for one of us to try and reach her. She might even have been trying to far-talk, herself, already. I hadn't thought of that, but of course, as soon as Syme told anyone what happened, the others must have tried for themselves, just like we did."

"But I told Syme we can do it because Forest helps us," Rock interrupted her.

"Well, they tried anyway. But, listen... the thing is, Sparkle wants us to know that Capability Reader's coming after us. She thinks Syme tried to tell you, but he wasn't sure if you heard him."

Rock was too shocked to speak. His thoughts began to race through the implications of what she had just said. He had not told her about Capability. And she had no idea his conversation with Syme had ended just as Syme had passed on that news.

It was unsettling to know that both far-talkings had actually been real. Yet, taking in Sparkle's message was even worse.

Rock had barely spared a thought for either of his parents for many moons. He had dared to hope never to have anything to do with them ever again. Now, all of the worst aspects of Rock's life in the Spice City seemed to be catching up with him, yet again.

When, at last, he felt able to respond, he could only whisper, "It wasn't a dream."

Willow gave no answer. She was already sound asleep.

TWENTY-SIX – WILLOW

When night fell, Willow should have gone with the other tree speakers to continue relocating spinnet grass. Instead, Rock took her place and she continued sleeping until his return. She woke to find he had already rat-called the news about what had happened to them both the previous day. He told her he had also sought out Bee, in person, to pass on Syme Deadlander's message. As Rock explained all this, he handed Willow a small roll of wild garlic leaves filled with green waterberries.

"Bee's not in any doubt that I really far-talked with Syme," Rock said. "I had no idea what the message meant. Syme only told me to tell Bee he's lost two of the crow feathers but the others are safe in his hat."

Willow smiled. She could not remember ever having seen Syme outdoors without his hat decorated with crow feathers.

"Did Bee give him those feathers, then?" she asked.

"No. Bee said they came from a crow that got caught in a rope net he and Syme made to protect the berry bushes on the island. Bee claims he had warned Syme the net might be a danger to the birds, but Syme was so fed up of losing the whole crop, he wouldn't listen. They found a dead crow in the net the very next morning and Syme was really upset about it. Not just because Syme had insisted on using the net, but because he never even noticed the crow was in trouble. Neither did Bee, even though both of them are animal talkers. He didn't admit it to me, but I think maybe the two of them had spent that night drinking a lot of ale together. Anyway, however it happened, they were obviously ashamed. Bee says Syme decided to wear the bird's feathers in his hat to remind him never to be so thoughtless again."

"But the story convinced Bee you were really far-talking?"

"Yes. Not everyone else believes it, of course, but that doesn't matter. I believe it. How else could you have known what Syme was trying to say to me just as I left him?"

"So..." Willow looked at Rock carefully, trying to see just how far he had been disturbed to hear that warning about his father. Over the past few days, she had thought Rock might be growing out of his winter sadness. Fear of Capability Reader could push him right back down again.

It was not long after dawn. Rock's eyes seemed to glow as he looked back at her.

"Capability Reader," he said, flatly. "I'd almost managed to forget about him, but he doesn't seem to want to leave me alone."

"He can't possibly find us here." Willow hoped that this was true.

"No, I don't expect so," Rock agreed. "And he's only one person. We're busy fighting against the whole harvest of the Forest and I don't see any reason to stop. Do you?"

"No, I don't. Absolutely not," Willow agreed.

Yet, for the rest of that day, she found herself wondering just exactly how that fight might best be continued.

The next evening, several people gathered near to the spot she and Rock had chosen for their bed. Most of those who came brought gifts of food with them. In the end there was a small feast for everyone to share. There were piles of delicate spring leaves, tiny tubers, a collection of stream-snails, and even a few small flower buds.

The group included Irin, Bee, Wood Wasp, Spider, Hest and Joren, as well as a number of other tree speakers and animal talkers. As darkness fell, everyone sat on the ground underneath a canopy of dinnet branches. Soft rain pattered on the leaves above their heads, but nobody was getting badly dripped on.

Willow caught herself thinking of those Rats who were missing because they had not survived to see this spring. Especially Wildcat, but all the others, too.

Durnas's death had been particularly difficult to bear. It had reminded Willow of Carlina Rootgrinder, Naesy's mother, who had died far more slowly of a similar condition. In the cavern, there had been plenty of tree speakers' medicines available for Durnas. Carlina had been given silken syrup, a Harvesters' medicine. Yet, in the end, neither woman had been healed.

For Willow, all of the forest deaths also came on top of those of her grandmother and baby sister, just a few seasons ago, back in Warner. She had already learned there was nothing to do but continue on living. Blinking rapidly, and making herself pay attention to the conversation around her, she tried to listen carefully.

Everyone seemed to be asking what Rock, Willow and Irin had done that had allowed them, in particular, to far-talk. All three were both tree speakers and animal talkers, although no one could work out quite why that should make a difference. Flight had not been an animal talker or a tree speaker, so it might not be important at all. According to Neamis, the Wanderers had seen far-talking as a talent in itself. An incredibly rare one.

"It's a puzzle that can't be solved. Let's drop it for now," suggested Spider, eventually. "What's important is that we've got a way of being in touch with the low villages through Irin. And Rock and Willow can get messages to the Bees' Nest, right inside the Spice City. That's something all Forest Rats can really make use of, eh? So what do we need to know from them, and what should we be telling them? Those are the important questions."

"Aye, and we should not forget all that was said over winter," said Bee. "I do wish I could talk to Syme Deadlander, myself. I miss the old drumstick now I've remembered to think of him."

"Just keep practising, Bee," said Willow, hoping to encourage him. "That's all we did. Honestly. We just kept on trying."

Willow still believed it was possible for almost anyone to pick up a talent of some sort. The same might true of far-talking. Maybe it just required more persistence and more motivation to achieve than any other talent.

"Seems t' me, there's some cost, though, Willow," put in Joren, just then.

He sat on the ground beside Hest. Joren now glanced sideways at his lover and continued speaking. "Ye sh'd take great care, Hest – and all of ye – to have a partner watching for yer safety when you do this. I'm guessing yer other talents won't be warning you of forest dangers at the same time yer talkin' with people far away."

"So Merel thinks, as well," agreed Bee. "Like when the Green are drumming, he says."

Willow glanced at Bee, intending to ask another question.

"The Green are interested," he answered before she could speak, "but no one's learned anything from them – so far – to help us work out how to do it."

Willow nodded slowly in response to this, understanding that it would be up to the Green to decide if, and when, they might step in to help the Rats to far-talk.

"A silent one would be especially good at watching over us while we try and far-talk," said Hest, patting Joren on the shoulder.

"Silent ones have got plenty to do already," Spider grumbled. "It's not only Forest dangers you need to worry about. What if you're too busy far-talking to notice a stray or a harvest worker coming up behind you with a fighting stick or a knife?"

"She's right," agreed Wood Wasp. "Anyone who wants to try should go deep into Forest before they even start. No one ought to do it near the harvest edge."

Several people then commented on the increased number of harvest runs that spring, and the many armed harvest workers continually patrolling the harvest edge. Apparently, Spider had actually witnessed a fight between workers from two separate runs.

"Very bloody, it was by the end," she pronounced. "I stayed up my tree 'till the next day, when I was sure they'd all gone. Each group took a body away with them. So much blood spilled, there were animal scavengers under my tree all through the night."

If Spider had been talented, news of this fight would have been shared among all the Rats of Tall Trees Side already, through rat-talk. Yet this was the first Willow had heard of it. Judging by the reactions of most of the others, it was news to them as well.

"Well, maybe while they're fighting each other, they won't pay attention to us," Ash suggested, hopefully. "Who's up for another sabotage run on a soil dredger?"

"No hope of that, and you know it," replied Spider. "I reckon last summer's run told all their city friends about what happened to their machine. Now they guard the soil dredgers night and day from us, and from any unexpected flooding when it rains. Just as closely as they guard their harvest wagons against each other."

The little meeting continued long into the night. Irin came to sit beside Willow and Rock, chatting quietly with them for some time, and comparing experiences. She seemed overjoyed at no longer being the only far-talker among the Forest Rats.

Then Bee passed on a bit of news he had picked up through rat-talking with others at the extreme end of the harvest edge. Apparently, these Rats had come across a Harvester who was said to want to travel into unharvested forest, searching for Green.

Willow shifted her position, moving closer to Rock.

"Only a rumour," Bee assured everyone. "Not certain I believe it myself. But, I reckon we should listen out, anyway. Just in case. That can't hurt, can it?"

The talk moved on. Other news was shared, but nothing else as disturbing as that one rumour told to Bee.

Willow's thoughts slid back to worries she had not yet mentioned. For those at the Bees' Nest, the impact of the incredible discovery of far-talking would have been overshadowed by the news of Wildcat's death. Yet no one in the marsh villages, where Wildcat had been born, had been informed of what had happened to her. Neither had Rinnet, or any of the Wanderers, except for Neamis. Somehow, it did not feel right to be able to tell only the Rats of the Bees' Nest, and no one else.

Eventually, after the other Rats had all left for their own sleeping places, Willow and Rock were alone together. Tired as she was, it seemed important to speak out loud about what bothered her, hoping Rock would understand.

"I wish I had managed to reach the marshes first," she said.

"I know." He replied so quickly, it was obvious he had been worrying about the same thing. "They should have been the first to be told about Wildcat."

All of a sudden, Willow felt as shocked, and sad, and sick, as she had done straight after Wildcat died. The despair lasted only a few moments before easing, but it took her breath away. Clutching her arms around her middle, she swayed under the impact.

It was dark, but starlight lit the forest floor. She could tell that Rock was looking at her curiously. Willow stared back, trying to use his gaze as a steady anchor. The wave of grief flowed on past.

"Yes," she agreed, at last. "I'll try far-talking to the marshes again. We should both try. I'm not jealous of Kezzy anymore."

Rock stretched a hand towards her, brushing his fingertips against her shoulder. Then he yawned.

"Now we understand how tiring it is to far-talk, we'll need to plan before even trying to do it again," he said. "I wonder if we should ask Joren to be with us." He gave no response to her comment about Kezzy, but perhaps that was because he accepted it.

"We could keep watch over each other, as long as only one of us far-talks at a time," Willow suggested, adding a yawn of her own. "One more night moving spinnet grass, first. After that, the harvest will have got too close to the grass patch for anyone to do rat-work there."

"Yes," Rock agreed. "And then I'll try Kezzy and the others in the marshes. You could try Rinnet again. If you manage to tell her about far-talking, then she's bound to want to try it on her own."

"She could send them a message through Rummy the Trail or another pack trader," Willow added. She knew that Rock was correct, though. Rinnet would try and far-talk as soon as she learned about it. Everyone would. "Rinnet might even decide to borrow a horse to go and visit the marshes again. But, Rock, what do I say about how Wildcat died? What did you tell Syme? We can't be certain what happened."

"I'm certain she's dead. Aren't you?"

"Yes, I am."

"Then that's all you really need to say to anyone. Only a Forest Rat would know what you meant if you said she was forest-lost. I never heard anyone in Warner mention people getting talent-lost. And we don't know the black beast definitely ate her. Just tell the truth, we know she died and that's all."

Rock was only really saying what Willow had already decided for herself. But it still helped to hear that he agreed. There were experiences in the Forest that no one who had not been there was ever likely to understand.

Willow slept long into the next morning, kept warm on all sides by dry leaves that Rock had thoughtfully piled around her before he left. She was woken by a small bird who was turning over the leaves by her head, searching for food. After rising, washing and drinking from a stream, she dug and ate some crisp waternip roots. Then she mended some holes in her clothing. The Rats had discovered that some very fine, young reed stems could be carefully split with a belt knife and used to darn cloth. The tips of the stems were sharp, like needles, but the lower parts were flexible, like thread.

Once the sunlight began to fade in the afternoon, it became too dark to reed-sew. Willow gathered a generous portion of mixed green leaves and ate them wrapped around a little pounded cleargold root. Then she set off towards the harvest edge, to meet the other tree speakers.

Overnight, they did what they could for the rest of the spinnet grass colony. Much remained to be taken by the Harvesters. But, with luck, some of the seeds and transplants moved by the tree speakers would root and spread. Tall Trees Side spinnet grass would not die, even though it would always grow slightly differently in its new locations.

The tree speakers soon began new projects. Willow began taking turns with Rock at short sessions of far-talking, whenever they could snatch enough free time. They were careful, taking recovery days between sessions, and always choosing safe places to work, well away from the harvest edge.

In spite of continuing these carefully paced sessions for over a moon, Willow only ever managed a contact with Sparkle, and Rock succeeded only with Syme. Nevertheless, those brief long-distance exchanges with the Bees' Nest were incredibly exciting. As well as a great many messages from various other Rats, Willow passed on information about Forest that might be useful to the Bees' Nest.

She told Sparkle all she had learned about water pipe plants. How they could spread throughout a patch of water without clogging up the flow and making it stagnant. How there were roots all along each stem, anchoring the network without making it rigid. And how the plant could pull nourishment from the water and sediment that flowed inside its hollow stems.

Sparkle said that the Rats of the Bees' Nest hoped many of the water pipes in rich city Harvesters' homes might be alive, like the one in Stern Greylight's warehouse. Long runs of pipes were made of different sections sealed together with resin. So not every section was necessarily from the same original plant. Even so, some of them might keep on growing, given enough time.

Now that Willow had described how the plants lived in the wild, Sparkle had some ideas. She thought some of the Bees' Nest Rats might secretly investigate the edges of Harvesters' gardens. If there were water pipe plants who had rooted into the ground near the houses, perhaps they could be encouraged to grow out as far as the streets. If so, then a tree speaking Rat might talk with them without ever needing to go inside a Harvester's property. The other ends of the pipes, inside the buildings, might pick up some very useful information.

Sparkle told Willow about some changes in the city. She said the city elders and the Harvesters were starting to alter the way they traded, although those at the Bees' Nest did not know the details. Whatever was going on had somehow led to a race to get as many harvest runs as possible into the Forest, as soon as possible.

Sparkle and Syme had been careful about telling too many others the news about far-talking. Willow had been so excited by the whole idea, she had never imagined some of the problems Sparkle foresaw for the new skill.

" _We're only just starting to see a few city workers and a few more Riversiders getting comfortable with talents again,"_ Sparkle said, during one conversation. _"People need time to get used to things they don't understand properly. If this far-talking really does turn out to be something a lot of people can learn, eventually... well, the owners of the Travellers' Exchange won't be happy, for a start. They make a lot of coin delivering people's messages and news, don't they? But the bigger problem is that most ordinary city workers are still frightened by the possibility of talents being real."_

Willow had been so long in the company of Joren and the other silent Rats, she had almost been able to forget about the way most people in the Spice City viewed the talents.

" _What will they do if they think talented people can communicate silently over huge distances as well?"_ Sparkle went on. _"The first thing most will assume is that we're up to no good. The second thing, I should imagine, is they'll start trying to work out how to make a profit out of it. How long before the city elders decide to lock up people with talents and force them to work for coin? You know they've already considered it. Will there be warehouses for people, before long?"_

Willow feared that Sparkle was right. The Bees' Nest tree speaker was also respected as a mind-healer, who understood a lot about how people tended to think. Even so, Sparkle never suggested that far-talking was wrong, or that anyone should stop trying to do it.

" _No, we can't go back,"_ she had answered when Willow asked her directly if she thought the Tall Trees Rats should stop their experiments. _"We must learn how best to do it, then show people, by example, how to use it to everyone's benefit. It will make big changes, and that's what's needed, right now."_

By far-talking to one person each, it did seem that Irin, Willow and Rock inspired many other Rats to try harder. Eventually, at long last, five other Rats reported success within a few days of one another. One of these was Bee, who had finally got his wish to renew his acquaintance with Syme Deadlander.

Bee was ecstatic. As soon as he had slept off the after-effects, he came to find Willow and Rock and tell them all about it.

It was a warm day. Summer was approaching. The Rats had emptied all their winter food caches, but it was not yet time to begin filling them again. Food was still scarce, but it was possible to eat reasonably well after a bit of careful foraging. That day, Willow and Rock were digging young tawny roots from under a lissom bush close to a stream. The roots could be washed off and eaten uncooked. Bee helped them to collect a good pile and then shared their meal.

"Spreading like forest fire, this far-talking is," he commented, giving a huge grin as though he could not stop himself from smiling at the thought. "Without the choking smoke and the terror, of course," he added more seriously, shaking his head and making his long hair and beard fly out around his face.

"Have you seen a forest fire, then?" asked Rock

"Oh yes. Flames that fly. Wind lifts burning bits of trees with it. With the right wind, a little fire in one small patch of forest can spread all over the place in a just a few heartbeats. It can happen that fast. A change in the wind can make it jump up out of a place that only showed a few blades of dull smoke for days and days, before. I've seen it myself, and I've heard about it from other Rats in other places."

"Well, that does sound very like what's going on with the far-talking," Willow agreed, "but I hope I don't ever have to see a real forest fire."

"That's sensible." The older Rat stared off into the darkness of the surrounding trees for a moment. "And if you ever do find yourself near one, take off with the animals, straight away, Willow. Don't ever stay around to watch. Far-talking, though, well... It filled my heart up, hearing old Syme Deadlander back at the Bees' Nest. Good old Syme."

After Bee had left, Willow _talked_ with some of the older trees about their memories of fire. In some parts of Forest, all of the older trees remembered a heat so strong it turned all liquid into gases at a touch. Live wood had transformed into dead charcoal. Those trees had been left wounded, smouldering and parched. Many of their neighbours had never recovered and had ceased to grow.

Younger trees, who had not yet been touched by fire, shared memories with their older relatives. They also inherited memories from those who grew before them. All were aware that fire brought sudden, violent destruction.

They told Willow that nothing, other than the harvest, itself, affected them in quite the same way. Even the branch cracks and uprootings caused by storm winds were nowhere near as deadly as a fire. Willow thought it was no wonder the Green had never learned to make heating or cooking fires.

Yet, in many ways, the spread of far-talking was very like Bee's description of a forest fire. News soon came, through rat-talk, of three more far-talkers. These were Forest Rats living far away from Tall Trees Side, who had tried only because they had heard of the Tall Trees Rats' success.

It had taken considerable effort by a number of Rats to properly explain far-talking to the Green. Even the rescued ones, who had been in the Spice City, found it difficult to clearly visualise places and people outside of Forest. However, once they understood what was needed, they began making efforts to help.

After a while, it became usual for them to approach any Rat they sensed trying to far-talk. Then they would add something of the talent-merging effect Willow had first experienced on the edge of the city. With such support, even more Rats broke through and managed to _talk_ with faraway friends or relatives.

Wondering about Flight, and whether the Green had helped her in some way, Willow sought out Bee. She asked him more about the days when Flight had been alive, and he and Durnas had far-talked with the young Wanderer.

Bee's reply was interesting. He did not remember having any sense that Forest, or the Green, were actively helping the process back then. But he did confirm that Flight had learned to far-talk right after her first visit to the Forest and the Rats.

As the Rats continued to experiment, it became clear that far-talking did not work unless the other person also made an effort to respond. Sometimes, the other person was asleep, or unavailable. In that respect, it was similar to rat-talking. But in addition, it required people to let go of all consciousness of their physical bodies, and stopped them keeping track of time. Sometimes people needed to turn away from far-talking contacts in order to live their normal lives, and to remain safe.

Even so, everyone began imagining future possibilities. Not all the Rats were as fearful as Sparkle had been about the new skill.

Rat-talk began to include suggestions for far-talkings between large groups of people. Even more fancifully, there was also some rat-talk about city Rats overthrowing the elders of the Spice City, without any of the Harvesters finding out what was going on until too late. That kind of suggestion frightened Willow. If the city elders were attacked by the city Rats, one of the first places the elders would destroy in retaliation would be the Bees' Nest.

Yet far-talking was important, or so she hoped. It was most definitely starting to grow like Bee's description of wildfire.

TWENTY-SEVEN – HEST

Cold and wet, Hest worked alongside Willow and Joren. It was raining hard, and they were part of a team clearing out a wide stream at some distance from the harvest edge. Harvest debris came downstream towards them constantly. The Rats tried to prevent it from completely blocking off the flow of water.

Hest tried to work out which of the places already choked with collections of floating twigs and branches were best left alone. These blockages would helpfully filter sediment out of the water. In other places, he poked the stream banks with a stick, testing to see where it would hold well. Here, he tried to clear away the harvest debris. Allowing water to flow fast in these sections, moving against air and sunlight, would help to clean it.

"Take a break now, Hest," said Zet, one of the stone listeners. "Let those soft arms of yours grow some muscle before ye overstretch yerself." Zet was from the low villages. Hest enjoyed her company, even though she was not always polite.

Stopping to rest, he took shelter under the arch of a vine that dropped down from the branches of a tree. Just a few moments later, Joren and Willow came to join him there. Both of them were shaking their arms and legs, though not really making themselves any less wet.

It had been quite a while since Hest and Joren had met up with Willow in person, although she and Hest had kept in touch through rat-talk. And this was their first real chance to talk properly. The stream-work had kept them too busy to chat very much until now.

"Good to take some breaths of dry air for a bit," said Joren. "So, Willow, has your far-talking been goin' well?"

This seemed to be the first question any of the Rats asked of a talented one when they met. A far-talking revolution was spreading outwards from Tall Trees Side. Hest had thrown himself into the practice as often as he could, and eventually managed to _talk_ with his father, Nettle.

Other Rats of Tall Trees Side were now far-talking with contacts all over the Spice City and throughout the hills, marshes, low villages, seaward villages and along the Great River. There had even been a few reports of Rats outside of Forest having worked out how to far-talk independently of their forest friends.

Hest had rat-talked about it with Neamis, wanting to know how the Wanderer was reacting to this sudden development. Neamis, understandably, would have preferred to have his friend Flight still alive. No amount of other far-talkers could ever make up for her loss. Yet, Neamis was generous. He did not disapprove of the way Flight's special talent had suddenly started becoming more common. After trying it himself, for some time, he had reported making contact with two of the Wanderers. Yet he still insisted that, previously, it had been impossible for any of the Wanderers, or the Tall Trees Rats, to far-talk in the absence of support from Flight.

Willow answered Joren's enquiry.

"It has, thank you," she said. "Though I'm always careful. You were quite right, before, when you said we should never do it without someone to keep watch."

Joren had, of course, watched over Hest whenever he far-talked. He did not seem jealous of this new kind of talent, at all. But he did like to remind Hest frequently of the many ways it could potentially harm people.

"I think it's even more dangerous than when we first came into Forest and we could have been forest-lost," Willow continued, thoughtfully.

"So is it worse for those you talk to?" Joren asked, a little sharply.

This was something he had pointed out straight after Hest's very first far-contact with Nettle. And Hest had been ashamed to admit he had not even considered Nettle's safety. He had been so overjoyed at making contact, no potential for any danger had occurred to him.

"Yes, I think it may be," agreed Willow. "And you're right to mention it, Joren. We have Forest to help us, and usually some of the Green as well. But all a person has outside of Forest, is us."

"Should we tell them to stop?" Hest asked. Even as he spoke, he recognised it was a stupid question, but he was worried for Nettle.

"We can't, can we," Willow answered. "Bee says it's like forest fire. Impossible to put out once it's been started. All we can do is make sure everyone knows the risks they might be facing. The first few times Rock and I managed to far-talk, we never considered we could be putting the people at the Bees' Nest in any danger, I'm sorry to say. We did think to warn them later, but by then it was too late. Now, Sparkle's very worried about what the untalented city people will do when they find out about it. And they certainly will find out, as more and more people everywhere learn to do it. But even Sparkle doesn't want us to stop."

"Just like a fire begun by one tiny spark," Hest said. He was speaking his thoughts aloud, just as they came into his head. "Or like ripples in water. It was the Wanderer girl, Flight, in the first place, who made just one change. There are ripples spreading from that, even now. I wonder what would have happened if what she could do had never been kept so secret."

"She'd have been kidnapped by Harvesters," Willow replied, her voice suddenly loud.

For a moment, Hest felt a heaviness, almost like grief, inside his chest. Willow sounded so different from the village girl he had once known.

He reached over to take hold of her hand.

"Maybe she would," he agreed, keeping his voice soft. "But things didn't run that way. We can be grateful for that."

Willow and Joren fell silent, so Hest let his own thoughts settle. There had been a great deal of anger in Willow's voice, just then. He knew she had every reason to wish for revenge on Capability Reader and Stern Greylight for what they had done to her.

When Hest had decided what else he wanted to say, he began again. "Each of us, at our own places in the stream, make ripples of our own. When those ripples touch Flight's, there's a new pattern created. One that might never have existed before. That's how I think of it. Maybe those earlier Rats and Wanderers were just too busy doing other things to keep practising long enough to learn far-talking. But I think it's more likely that something's different now, to how it was back then. The Green... the ones you rescued. They know things other Green don't, because they were taken outside the Forest. Forest and Green learn from each other. We've all felt that, right?"

Willow gripped his hand tighter, then let go and gave him a tiny smile.

"All kinds of things have changed," she said. "I'm not stupid enough to think what we did was enough on its own. It was a small thing compared to the size of the Forest. But, I guess you're right to say nothing's the same now as it was when Flight first got her talent."

"Spider tells me there are more Rats at Tall Trees Side this spring than last spring," put in Joren. "Quite a few came last summer, before we got here. Likely even more will be joining us before this summer's end. More ripples to bump up against our own, eh?"

"Could we really do it, do you think?" Willow asked suddenly. "Do you think there's any chance the Rats could really stop the harvest for ever?"

Hest could sense the bleaker question behind her words. She feared there might be nothing the Rats could truly do to end the harvest of the Forest. As he was trying to decide how to answer her, Joren spoke up instead.

"That's not th' right question," Joren told Willow. "Ye sh'd be thinkin' deeper. What you really fear is that you, and all of us, have been wasting our time coming here and risking our lives t' save Forest. Ye fear it can't really be saved. So the question to ask, is what would ye have done if ye hadn't come here? Could ye have lived a different life, still hearing the Forest call as we all did? Could we have let th' forest die without showing we cared about it?"

Hest looked at his lover, feeling a sudden urge to hug the man. They were sitting slightly too far apart for him to do so easily. He smiled at Joren, instead. Willow had already stopped looking quite so full of despair.

"No," she replied to Joren, speaking slowly. "No, I suppose I always knew what we wanted to do might be impossible. I just couldn't ignore the Forest, or let the Harvesters carry on doing what they wanted without even trying to stop them. We have to make sure they can't pretend they know best all the time."

"It's enough," Hest said, understanding what Joren had been getting at. "That's enough on its own, Willow. If that's all the Rats ever manage to do, we've got no reason to think we've failed."

"Aye," Joren was nodding his head. "That's why my carvings at th' harvest edge look the way they do."

Joren had taken to carving on dying trees and anything else he could get safely near enough. The carvings were frightening to look at. Screaming faces or figures with horribly twisted limbs. Joren said they were to show the Harvesters how he felt about what they were doing.

"Though there may be more the Rats will do, in time. Who knows?" Joren continued, thoughtfully. "This far-talking you're all so busy with, now. Could be a mighty weapon t' use against th' harvest."

"So everyone seems to think," Hest agreed. "I wonder what Flight and the Forest Rats used to discuss. Other than at the end, when they were making plans to rescue the Green. I wonder who else she far-talked with? Has anyone asked Neamis or Bee?"

"Yes, I have," Willow replied. "Bee said they mostly just shared information about what the Harvesters were doing, in the Spice City and in the Forest. He wasn't sure who else Flight used to talk with. Apparently the Wanderers were very secretive about it. So, then I asked Neamis, who told me she could only reach out to a few other people. They were Wanderers, travelling with different groups. The information they shared was usually about places they passed through. Where there was good grazing. Where the local people were hostile to Wanderers. That kind of thing."

"Uh." Hest was disappointed. He been hoping to learn of some kind of secret plan that no one else had yet thought of.

"Oh well. So, it's up to us to decide how to use far-talking to help Forest," he said, giving a small sigh. "Have you got any ideas?"

"Well..."

Hest was pleased to see that Willow's eyes seemed to brighten in response to his question. Since Wildcat's death, he had been worried at how tired and hopeless she had often seemed.

"We could make it harder for the city elders to hide information, for one thing," she said. "Even if we only use far-talking to gossip with each other."

Now there was a definite hint of excitement in the way Willow was looking back at him.

"I know Syme and Goshi have been doing that sort of thing already," she went on. "They're always gossiping in taverns and talking to people from the news sheet presses. Far-talking could do the same thing, but across all the villages, as well as the city. And spice ships... I only just thought of that... if a far-talker knew someone on a ship, or in the spice lands, say... wouldn't they be able to talk to them? That would be incredible! We could tell so many more people what's really going on here, and in the city and the other places we've all been. And they could tell us more, and we could spread that news as well."

"Aye. I c'n see th' uses for far-talkin'," Joren cut in. "It'd certainly be a help t' fisherfolk. I c'n imagine that, fer one thing. But it does leave you all so tired. Rats keep sleeping all the time. There's more work for us silent ones. I'm happy t' keep watch for Hest when he far-talks, and for others. I know it'll turn out very useful. But th' rat work here in Forest's still to be done. We must not stop looking at what's right here in front of our own snouts, eh? Th' Forest is still getting eaten away every day."

Hest understood his point. Not only was far-talking very tiring, it made people lose track of time. It was true that the Forest Rats could be in danger of forgetting the main reason they had come to the Forest in the first place.

"An' we've got to get back to work right now," Joren announced, only moments before they received a rat-shout from Zet, who was still in the water. She practically ordered them back to work. There were others who needed to take their turns to rest.

A few days after the river work ended, it finally stopped raining. And then Neamis, Garnet and the little one returned to Tall Trees Side for a brief visit. Hest assumed their main purpose was to let the child have some continued physical contact with his Green relatives.

The last time Hest had seen any of the three, face to face, had been on the terrible day when the little one's parents were murdered. Hest and Joren had gone all round the second greenhome with Ash and Jinnet, checking for signs of disturbance and reassuring themselves that the Green within were still safe. Then Merel had arrived, still dozy and muddled from cold and dusk. They had spent a long time trying to get him warm. Eventually, he had been able to show them how to get inside the greenhome. It had been after dark by then. Before they could attempt to go after the little one, Neamis and Garnet had come, bringing the awful news of Wildcat's ending.

So neither Hest, Joren, Ash, nor Jinnet had gone inside the greenhome, in the end. They had respectfully left the task to Neamis and Garnet, in the company of Merel. When Neamis had stepped out again carrying the little one against his chest, Hest had only been able to watch in awe.

He understood why Neamis and Garnet had taken the Green baby well away from the harvest edge as soon as the adult Green had agreed. Since that day, Wildcat's two lovers had chosen to make caring for the little one the most important part of their own lives.

Hest eagerly joined Willow and Rock to meet with Garnet, Neamis and the child, as soon as possible. Neamis seemed more graceful than before, more like the Green. But his face looked thinner, and his expression more tense and far less open than Hest remembered. And when Garnet loosened the fur cloak from around her shoulders, he did not miss the way her muscles sank beneath the bones. She would need to eat well this summer to grow back what she had lost. They all would.

Of course, the conversation soon turned to the subject of far-talking.

"I did try it, when I and Flight were children," Neamis said, with sorrow in his voice. "It was boring. I wanted to be running about and playing. I could not be still for long. And at night, Flight would be awake, trying and trying to reach our Rat friends we had left behind in Forest. Flight sometimes did not like being Wanderer. It bothered her to always meet new people and then leave them behind. I did not mind so much. At night I would be tired. I would sleep. Now..." He looked towards the little one, who played with a coloured stone beside him. "...not so much sleep for me or for Garnet. I tried far-talking again. I talk to Wanderers when Garnet keeps watch on me and little one."

"Not your fault you couldn't do it before," said Garnet. "I've told you. Now is different. Forest learns."

"I'm so glad you can reach the Wanderers now, anyway," said Willow, encouragingly.

After a pause, she spoke again, and Hest thought she sounded nervous. "Do you... have you told them what happened to Wildcat? I've never asked when we've rat-talked, because I wasn't sure if you'd want to be reminded..."

"Of course I did," Neamis replied. Hest saw him look towards Garnet, quickly. "It is all right, Willow. I do not mind saying. They were very sad to know of her death." He spoke tightly, in obvious pain, but Hest did not think he resented Willow's question. It was something that needed to be said, however uncomfortable.

Hest studied Garnet's expression, but the wolf woman knew how to hide her feelings well. He could not guess what she was thinking, and she would not look him in the eyes.

Turning away from her, Hest asked, "Can you tell us more about far-talking, Neamis? You were Flight's best friend. You must know a lot about it, even if you never managed it back then."

Neamis looked up at Hest with a very serious expression. "Long ago, with Flight, I thought I tried much," he replied. "I did not see how I was bored and did not try hard enough. Other Wanderers did so, too. Young and old. No one else could far-talk. Only Flight. After so much useless trying, Wanderers thought it must not be possible. Flight's talent was known to be one told in old stories, so we thought it must be very rare. We thought we must wait for another child like Flight to be born. No one tried again."

"I'm sure there's something that's changed now... maybe with Forest... that's made it easier for far-talking to happen," Willow said. "Maybe with the Green, as well."

"So I believe," agreed Garnet.

Hest thought Neamis might be embarrassed, in spite of Willow's attempt to reassure him, but then the Wanderer smiled.

"That may be so, but now many Wanderers are feeling silly for not trying more," Neamis went on. "I far-talk with Young Timber now, but I waited long before trying. I expected to fail once again. I am feeling silly for that."

"But the Wanderers believed Flight. No one laughed or said she was making it up. They were more sensible than the Rats, in that," said Willow.

Neamis smiled again. "Yes, that is true."

"Did you... did talking with them help you?" Hest asked. He could not quite decide how to say what he really meant.

Neamis appeared to understand his question perfectly. "It was good to hear my own people. A comfort when I am sad about Wildcat. Yes."

While they had been talking, the small Green child had climbed onto Neamis's lap. Now, the little one stretched out both arms to indicate wanting to crawl away. Neamis allowed it, but he never took his eyes off the child. When the little one strayed too close to a bush whose leaves carried stingbugs, he was quick to slide forward and turn the child in a different direction.

Garnet yawned. "Ah, little one," she said. "You do know how I love you, and yet, I would sometimes enjoy to watch only after myself. Just for a short while. Perhaps I should search for another Rat lover who is as caring as Neamis. I would not mind sharing a three-way love again if we could also be three-way parents."

Hest did not think this was only a way of saying how much she missed Wildcat. He smiled, thinking that Neamis and Garnet would do well to enjoy any love that came their way in the days to come. The little one was clearly thriving. Anything that contributed to his new parents' wellbeing could only help him, too.

A shard of sunlight through the tree canopy caught the side of Neamis's neck. Hest was not surprised to notice a small bright green patch on the Wanderer's skin, just forward of his ear.

"You have many people now," Rock said to Neamis, referring to the earlier conversation.

"Yes, I do," Neamis agreed. "I do. Rats, Green, Wanderers, everyone. We are all people. Harvesters and strays, too."

"Only they don't know it." Rock's voice sounded flat.

Hest knew that Rock admired Neamis and the other Wanderers for their peaceful ways. Yet Rock probably found it impossible to wish peace on the Harvesters. Willow had told Hest some of what she knew about his background. Rock, himself, preferred not to talk about it. Hest had not seen the Spice City, but he could guess how rich and comfortable Rock would have been as a child. Finding out about the true reality of the harvest must have been particularly devastating for him. It would be natural for him to feel guilty, as well as betrayed.

"I wish..." Willow said, suddenly.

Hest turned towards her, thinking she sounded upset.

"I just wish I could far-talk with Rinnet," she said. "I keep trying, but it doesn't work."

"Rinnet?" queried Neamis.

"My mother. She's a tree speaker in the hill villages."

"Try now, Willow. We can keep watch for you. Do not give up," Neamis encouraged her.

"Yes. It's late afternoon." Hest agreed. "Rinnet could well be resting. It might be a good time to catch her attention."

Then, almost as though they had come in response to Willow's unspoken thoughts, Hest sensed the approach of two Green.

"There are two Green coming to help you," said Rock, confirming Hest's opinion. "Give it a go, Willow. They seem to think it's a good time to try, too."

So, while everyone else settled quietly to watch and wait, and the little one played with a handful of small river stones, Willow settled into a session of far-talking.

When Hest saw tears leak out under her closed eyelids, he knew she had succeeded. A few moments after that, Willow sat up straighter and opened her eyes.

"Bad news?" Rock asked, reaching forward to wipe a dripping tear from her chin.

Willow was blinking, clutching at Rock's arms with both hands.

Hest was aware of the Green slipping away. Soon he was no longer conscious of their presence.

"Oh." Willow let go of Rock to wipe at her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket. "No. Well, only having to tell her about Wildcat."

Hest had already asked Nettle to pass on the news of Wildcat's death to Rinnet, during the first far-talking conversation he had managed with his father. He had known how important it was to Willow. Later, Nettle had asked him to pass back the message that Rinnet had sent a letter to the marsh villages by pack trader, telling them of Wildcat's death. But, of course, it would still have been the first thing Willow and Rinnet would have discussed when they succeeded in far-talking to one another directly.

"So you spoke to Rinnet?" asked Neamis. "Well done, Willow."

"Yes. She says she's going to borrow a horse and go back to the marshes for a visit, soon. Maybe she'll even be able to far-talk with someone in Warner while she's in the marshes. She... she mentioned Flax, so I had to tell her Guern's dead, too."

Willow began to cry more thoroughly.

"It's the shock. You need rest," Rock said, pulling her closer against his chest.

Hest sympathised with Willow. His own first contact with Nettle had left him both sad and comforted at the same time. He had no desire to ever return to Warner, and yet he had been surprised how good it had felt to know all was well there.

While Willow slept in Rock's arms, Garnet took a handful of thin strips of dried meat from her belt. She passed one to Neamis, who gave it to the Green child to chew on.

Watching the two wild looking young people with their adopted Green child, Hest was certain he could feel something like approval from the Forest. The adoption of a Green child by non-green adults might have happened before, or it might not. Either way, it felt like a good thing, and a new beginning of some kind.

TWENTY-EIGHT – WILLOW

New leaves soon covered much of the forest, like a very lively roof. At midday, when the sun was hot, their shade was welcome. In the early morning or late evening, Willow and Rock often climbed up trees or onto one of the tree platforms to be out in the sunlight.

On one such evening, they climbed to a platform just close enough to the harvest edge to be a useful observation point. Willow intended to watch over Rock while he far-talked with the Bees' Nest. In the meantime, she would be able to see what the nearest Harvesters were up to.

Rock made himself comfortable on a pile of dry leaves covered with a woven mat. Willow settled her back against the trunk of the tree. It was an old hoarwhittle, with bark that was softened by a covering of moss.

This section of harvest was unusually quiet. The wagons were all full, as far as Willow could make out. She could see oxen tethered close to them, though none of the animals appeared to be actually hitched up, yet. These particular Harvesters were almost done.

Willow's attention drifted to the five Green she sensed were somewhere fairly close by. They were keeping well away from the harvest edge, digging into a nest of summer ants, to steal and eat the ant eggs.

"Eugh!" Willow said out loud. "I feel sorry for those ants. The Green are eating all their young."

Rock had not yet begun to far-talk. "They like the taste," he answered. "But they'll leave a few of the eggs alone. When they've finished their meal, they'll re-cover the nest as best they can."

"Surely that isn't enough to make it up to the ants."

"Well, it might be," he disagreed. "I asked some Green once. I saw what they were doing to an ants nest and I got a bit angry. I couldn't see they were getting much nourishment from those tiny eggs. It just looked like pointless destruction to me. The ants were all running around, all agitated. The Green just laughed at me. They told me to go back to the nest the next day and talk with the ants."

"So, did you?"

"Yes. I did. And they couldn't remember what had happened to them the day before. The Green had trashed their nest, but the ants must have repaired it already. To them, it was like nothing had ever happened."

"Oh."

"I think there was something else those Green were trying to tell me, though," Rock went on. "It was a couple of the rescued ones. The one with brown patches on his head, and the young male that looked almost a child when we first met them."

Willow knew the two Rock meant. She no longer thought of the younger one as a child. He seemed to have grown up during the winter sleep.

"When they explained about the ants," Rock was saying, "it was like they were also talking about themselves. I think they might have been trying to tell me how they thought about the harvest of the Forest before the Harvesters took them to the Spice City. Before then, I don't think they understood how the harvest could affect them personally. Most Green usually just moved away from the harvest edge if they came across it. They must all have felt the call of the Forest and its pain, just as we did. But I'm not sure they thought there was anything they could do about it."

"They think differently now, though. They're helping us," Willow replied. Rock's words had surprised, her, but they should not have done, really. Green did not think like Rats. At least, they had not used to.

"So many big changes," she went on. "These Green are going to be helpful while you far-talk, anyway." She _talked_ thanks to them at the same time as speaking aloud to Rock.

Unlike the Rats, the Green never stopped their normal physical activities in order to use talent. They seemed to use talents, or something like them, continually. Except when they were hibernating, skin dancing or drumming. Or when they were near a black beast or a slimevine.

Rock had closed his eyes, so Willow assumed he had begun far-talking with Syme Deadlander. She kept her eyes, ears and nose alert for any dangers in the surrounding forest, and watched Rock's face for any signs he was in difficulty. At the same time, she began to think about the Bees' Nest.

As a result of her own conversations with Sparkle, Willow already knew that Syme had led many walking drummings through city streets during the previous winter. Apparently, the participants had not only been Rats, but ordinary city workers, too. At last, it seemed Syme and his drummers were being listened to. People were starting to believe the Harvesters had been spreading lies. Of course, old Goshi's arrival in the city had helped with that. By now, Goshi would have talked many times to various news-sheet writers. All kinds of variations on his story about Stern Greylight's early harvest runs must have been circulated. Goshi was a silent one, as far as talent went. But now he had chosen to tell what he knew about the harvest, he was determined to speak out loudly. In spite of whatever retaliation the Harvesters might threaten him with.

Sparkle said the Bees' Nest had been nearly overrun with people wanting to know more about how to live without coins. She had also told Willow there were now many other coin-free groups starting up. Most, but not all, were on Riverside.

The Bees' Nest Rats had not been aware of any harvest runs leaving the city especially early, before the start of spring. The first one to arrive at Tall Trees Side must have left in secret. Willow had discussed this with Sparkle, as she knew Rock had done with Syme. They had also warned of the Forest Rats' suspicions about Harvesters trading with strays.

All of the Forest Rats had been reporting sightings of gangs of strays lately. No one had yet been able to work out why there were so many more of them than usual near the harvest edges.

Rock's expression suddenly altered. He did not appear distressed, but a look of surprise, or puzzlement, had crossed his face. Wrinkles appeared above his nose, as though he was struggling to concentrate. Then he spoke aloud.

"Try... far-talk with me... group... Naesy and Sparkle, too." His voice was very soft, as though most of his attention was still elsewhere.

Willow had already tried several times to reach Naesy and Syme by far talking, but without success. At Rock's mention of the word 'group', however, she was immediately reminded that the Green seemed able to increase people's talents by linking them up. Perhaps it was worth a try.

Now that the Green understood this new skill the Rats were working on, they all seemed fascinated by it. So Willow explained to the five Green nearby what she thought Rock had suggested. They assured her they could try to help, and that they would watch over both Rock and herself in the meantime. Willow closed her eyes and attempted to contact her friends at the Bees' Nest.

Very quickly, she began to hear both Syme's voice and Rock's, inside her own head. They were talking with one another.

" _Let's keep it simple,"_ Syme was saying to Rock. _"Talk of something we've discussed before. You skin danced with the Green, you said."_

" _I did. And so did Willow,"_ Rock replied.

Willow had never before heard Rock's mind-voice quite so distinctly. Rat-talking was not the same at all. It had not occurred to her to listen to Rock in the same way as those she far-talked with. For a moment, her connection with the others was gone, as her thoughts switched to puzzling over the idea.

Realising that her part in the present conversation had dropped away, she hurried to return to it before the connection could break completely.

" _I skin danced with the Green, Syme."_ She attempted to join in.

" _Willow? I think it's working."_ That was Syme. His voice in her mind was quite unmistakable.

" _Sparkle?"_ Rock then asked, curiously.

" _It's Rock. That's Rock, isn't it?"_

Willow had been able to far-talk with Sparkle before, but Rock had not. _"Sparkle, is Naesy really with you, too?"_ she asked, hoping to strengthen the connection between them all.

" _My head's going to split open,"_ Syme put in. _"This is worse than drumming in a thunderstorm."_

" _Willow? Rock? this is Naesy. Amazing! I can hear you. Can you hear me?"_

Naesy was all Riversider, and had once also been part-Harvester. Yet Willow no longer had any reservations about trusting her as much as Syme and Sparkle now seemed to do.

" _Naesy! How are you Naesy?"_ Willow replied. _"And how are your brothers and Iris?"_

" _They're all right,"_ came Naesy's answer, immediately. _"Iris is picking salad leaves in the garden right now. My brothers are out in Riverside, helping a planting group. Some Riversiders are trying to grow vegetables in the mud. I don't know if that's going to work, but Enimet and Jaren seem to enjoy it. Jaren's got your drum, Rock. He took it from the pack you left behind here. And I'm all right, I suppose, Willow. Sparkle takes me along to her evening tree speaking group for Riversiders._ _Turns out, you were right. Loads of people in Riverside want to learn to use talents. It's just that no one ever offered them a chance before."_

Willow felt herself smile at this, but the sudden awareness of her own body threatened to close off the far-talking link again. Hastily, she asked, _"So, Syme, Sparkle and Naesy, what's the most important news for me to hear? For both of us, me and Rock, I mean."_

" _It's this,"_ Sparkle answered. _"I've told you before, but I'll say it again, Willow. You and Rock must get away from the harvest edge. Sooner or later, some harvest worker's going to see you if you stay where you are. The Forest is huge, isn't it? Why don't you go deeper in and hide yourselves? The thing is, we're afraid Capability and Stern are still looking for you, and if they are, they've probably sent your descriptions with every harvest run, offering rewards for news of you. I'm not sure if it's only revenge they want, or if they still think they can use you in their stupid plans to capture Green. They must have guessed the ones they brought to the city are free again, but that won't stop them going after more."_

" _Red sent me loads of messages after you left,"_ Naesy put in. _"I just gave them all to Syme to read and then he threw them away. But, somewhere in every one of them, she asked if I know where you and Rock went. I never answered, of course."_

" _Uh."_ Rock thought loudly, at the mention of his mother's name.

Ignoring him, Naesy went on. _"And there's something else. I was at the fish market one day –it was a while ago, now – and I saw Shim Dealer. He didn't even notice me. He was ordering crates of dried fish for a harvest run. I heard most of what he was saying to the fish-seller. And the crates were to be delivered to Capability Reader, but Stern Greylight would pay for them. That's exactly what he said. So I reckon Stern and Capability are on a harvest run. What happened before hasn't stopped them, Willow, and I'm scared Red's letters have got something to do with it. I think she still imagines they can make us talk to Green for Capability."_

Willow was pleased that Naesy seemed to have lost all of her previous trust in Red Dawnweaver. Not so very long ago, Red had succeeded in fooling both of them.

" _Don't worry on our account, Naesy,"_ Willow tried to reassure her friend. _"We can't be Rats and work against the harvest without getting close to it. But even the Forest at the harvest edge is easy to hide in. Stern and Capability can't possibly find us here. But you ought to take care for yourself, especially when you go off the island into Riverside. And don't let your brothers or Iris off the island at all."_

" _Naesy's safe, Willow, you can be sure of that,"_ Syme put in. _"We're very careful about keeping track of everyone who crosses the rope bridge. Thing is, now the news-sheets have got people everywhere wondering what's true and what's lies. So the elders can't do anything without making folk suspicious. We can use that as protection, for now."_

Willow did not feel completely reassured. The elders had not yet heard of far-talking, but she could not believe it would be long before they did.

" _I told Rock that Rust Dewsinger left the Bees' Nest early in winter, didn't I?"_ Syme suddenly added, warningly. _"Red's messages for Naesy always made Rust itchy, he said. In the end he decided to head off to join up with Forest Rats, just like you did. We told him he should wait out the winter in the low villages first. But then... well, we only just found out that Caul Driver disappeared from the city around the same time, see. Important you know that. I'll tell Bee the same."_

Willow had liked Rust Dewsinger. On the other hand, Caul Driver had always frightened her.

" _Now, listen carefully,"_ Syme went on. _"See, first of all, there was gossip in the taverns that Caul Driver was working for the top city elders, the biggest Harvesters. And then he left the city. Some gossip afterwards said elders' people were asking after him. It was all just tavern talk at first. I wasn't sure what to believe, so didn't pass it on. But, yesterday, two elders' people turned up here, asking after both Caul and Rust. We don't know what that means."_

Whatever it meant, it was very worrying. Willow's concern made it hard to keep hold of the link with the others.

" _I'm tired, Willow,"_ came Naesy's voice. _"It's hard to keep this up."_

At the Bees' Nest, there were no Green to give aid. Willow knew it must be even harder for the others to hold their concentration than for herself and Rock. And Naesy was far-talking for the very first time.

" _No more for now,"_ announced Syme, just as Willow was about to say the same thing. _"No point overdoing it."_

" _Only one last thing,"_ came Sparkle's mind-voice. _"Rock, Willow, if it should happen that Rust and Caul are together, and if, by any chance, they do find you... please hear what they have to say. Don't jump to conclusions. Find out what's going on and then let us know, if you can."_

Then the link was gone.

Willow let her attention fall back into her physical existence in the Forest. She opened her eyes to find that Rock was visibly trembling.

"They want us to trust Caul Driver," he said, his voice filled with disgust.

"I don't know if I can ever do that," Willow said quietly, feeling very weary. "And he probably won't ever come here. How could he? Only the Forest Rats know exactly where we are."

Then she looked at Rock, opening her eyes wide. "Oh," she gasped. "Oh, no!"

"No," he answered, obviously having guessed what was in her thoughts. "That's not likely, Willow. Far-talking's too recent. Even if a Forest Rat happened to far-talk to someone in a village somewhere about us. Even if Caul Driver somehow managed to find out. He'd take ages to get here. There's no way he can creep up on us. If we find out he's on his way, we can just disappear before he gets here."

"You're right," Willow agreed, relaxing a little. "Of course. But... if he ever does turn up here, I... I think maybe we should hear him out. Sparkle only asked that we listen to what he has to say. If we ever get that chance."

The thought scared her a great deal, but Willow could not ignore a direct request from Sparkle.

Rock did not look keen. Quickly, Willow continued speaking. "It doesn't matter. Rock, we did a group far-talking! Whose idea was it? Did you think of it? Or was it Syme? It was brilliant! Should we rat-talk the news right now?"

"I think the Green have already done that for us," Rock answered. He still looked very tense, but he offered her a tiny smile. "Can't you tell? They're almost as excited as you are. The group idea was Sparkle's suggestion, actually. Syme told me she remembered what the Green did at the Wanderers' camp outside the city. So, then, she was wondering if there was a way to use their help to let Naesy far-talk. I'm not sure if they did that. I think Naesy just learned it for herself. The Green don't understand enough about what it's like outside Forest to far-talk for themselves. But, somehow, they can reach out there through us."

Without intending to, Willow suddenly gave a long yawn.

"Get some sleep," Rock said immediately. "I'll stay awake for a bit and rat-talk. Though I think the Green will watch over us both in any case."

"All right," she agreed. "But later on I'll want to try something. Do you think we can work out how to hear each other without speaking out loud? In a way that's even clearer than rat-talk. Like we did just now."

Rock did not look excited by the idea. "In case my father catches up with us, you mean?" he answered. "I guess it could be useful."

Willow slept on the tree platform for the rest of that night. At dawn, she felt Rock creep away from her and climb to the ground.

He returned much later, just as she was about to set off, herself. She had arranged to meet with some other tree speakers for a day's rat-work.

"I went to call for some more of the rescued Green," Rock said. "Some of them are the other side of The Long Shout, so I couldn't sense them from here."

The Long Shout was a rock formation, named by Neamis after the sound caused by the way it tended to funnel the wind. To talk usefully with individual Green, it was usually necessary to have a rough idea where they were. Contact with them was different to rat-talking. And to tree speaking, which was far easier to do if you were in physical contact with the plants.

"I caught up with 'thick dark chest pelt', 'highest tree climber' and 'elder with very pointed teeth who smiles often'," Rock went on.

Willow had grown used to referring to various Green with a few words that summarised the mental pictures they had of one another. 'Elder with very pointed teeth who smiles often' was not obviously male or female, and always looked both menacing and cheerful at the same time. 'Thick, dark chest pelt' and 'highest tree climber' were a man and woman who appeared around the same age and could often be found together.

"Are they well?" Willow tried not to sound impatient. Rock obviously wanted to talk. She wanted to let him, but the other tree speakers would be waiting for her by now.

"Smelled fine to me," he answered.

Rock had been letting his sense of smell develop since they had come to the Forest. Willow could not bring herself to do the same, even to learn important information. She did not mind the way Green smelled. But some forest odours were impossible to experience without disgust.

"What did you talk about?" she asked.

"Well, I mentioned Wildcat. They remember her, and they miss her. But I didn't get any feeling of grief from them. It was strange. They just seem to accept change really easily. Like the way Hest describes the flowing of water. They weren't interested to know more about what happened to her... how she died... even though she did it to save Green lives... I think she did, anyway. They liked her, though."

"What about far-talking?" The words came out sounding more impatient than Willow had intended. She took a moment to give a quick rat-call, telling the other tree speakers to go on without her.

"They were interested to hear about it from my point of view," Rock continued. "I guess the more they learn from different people, the easier it is for them to understand. Even the rescued Green still have trouble imagining places outside the Forest. They were shut up inside that wooden crate for most of the time they were in the Spice City."

Taking a slow breath, Willow asked, "Did you tell them about Caul Driver and Rust?"

"Yes. Yes I did."

Rock paused. Willow did not try to break the silence.

At last, he continued. "They don't remember Caul, but they know my father, all right. They remember enough to be afraid of him."

"Do they think of revenge?"

"No, I didn't think so. They just seemed very keen never to let him get his hands on any of the Green ever again."

"But that doesn't help us decide whether to trust Caul."

"No."

"What do you want to do?"

"I just don't know. One thing, though... I did ask the Green if they thought you and I should hide. Go deeper into Forest. And I couldn't properly understand their answers. I think they approve of the idea, but it made them laugh. As if they didn't understand why we hadn't already gone there, if that was what we wanted."

All of a sudden, Willow found herself smiling. "You mean the Green picked up on thoughts you didn't even know you were having?" she asked.

Rock did not answer that.

Without further discussion, the two of them set off for different places alongside the harvest edge. They each needed to meet up with separate groups of other Rats, and they had to move silently. It was much harder to work unnoticed than it had been at the previous summer's end. Harvest workers now openly patrolled the edges of the newly harvested areas, much like elders' people patrolling the streets of the Spice City.

After a long day of rat-work, it was nearing dusk when they were able to meet up once more. Exhausted, Willow leaned her back against Rock's chest as they lay on a comfortable pile of leaves.

"Should we get away from here?" Rock asked her, returning to their earlier conversation. "Go deep into unharvested forest?"

"Not yet," she replied, having spent most of the day considering that very possibility. "I've thought about it, and I've decided I'm tired of running away. If your father's coming after us, we can't stop him, but he might not ever find us. And if he does, I think... I think we should stay and face up to him. If Rust Dewsinger and Caul Driver ever turn up here, then I think we should hear them out, like Sparkle asked us to. Actually... actually, I think we should let them find us, if they can. Because then we can find out what they're up to and tell the Bees' Nest. They'll have more chance to find us if we stay where we are."

For a few moments, Rock did not reply. Willow guessed she had made him angry.Yet when, at last, he spoke, he did not raise his voice.

"True," Rock said. "But that only works as long as Capability doesn't get here first."

TWENTY-NINE – ROCK

For a time, Rock and Willow lived in a mossy streamside glade surrounded by a group of whittle trees. They always made sure the access trail through the whittle thicket was well hidden. A short way beyond it was a very old, tall, golden yaw tree. The tree put up with them climbing its sturdy branches daily. From a fork about halfway below the top, they could view the far-distant harvest.

After their first group far-talking, they had managed several more. However, it was extra tiring, and only possible if there were Green nearby willing to help. Other Rats had made similar attempts, almost straight away. Some had already succeeded. A new kind of attack on the harvest was quickly developing, without the Harvesters even realising it.

Forest Rats had begun using far-talking to spread detailed descriptions of what the Harvesters had already done. For some communities, that information might persuade someone not to set out for the Great Road in search of work. In others, ideas for wetland drainage or the creation of fields on wild areas might be dropped.

Talented people everywhere had been hearing the cry of the Forest ever since the very first harvest run. Now, the Forest Rats could describe its source to them, in vivid detail. Rock had long ago worked out that many talented people learned to stop listening to the cry of the Forest, believing there was nothing they could do to help. He began to hope that far-talking would encourage them to think differently.

Far-talking animal talkers spread word of the suffering of animals caught up in the harvest. They told of the effects of soil dredgers on small creatures. Of the stock cages, and of the hundreds of carcasses piled in heaps. They told how living animals found themselves surrounded by the sounds and stinks of slaughter, driven mad with terror before they, too, were harvested.

Syme Deadlander was still Rock's main far-talking contact. Syme had seen a harvest for himself, so there was no need to describe its horrors to him. Instead, Rock and Syme shared information about the strays, agreeing that there must definitely be a hidden trade going on between them and some Harvesters. Syme was also very interested to hear about the increasing numbers of armed workers acting as guards around the harvest. He said the earlier harvest runs had not really needed any guards.

Rock wondered how long it would be before people arrived to join the Forest Rats as a direct result of far-talking. The prospect seemed encouraging. But some of the newcomers would inevitably get themselves talent-lost. Or get eaten by animals, poisoned, or catch fatal diseases. Those who survived the summer would still face starvation and cold next winter.

The harvest itself was now blossoming. The earliest runs had already filled their wagons and returned to the city, but many others had arrived to replace them. All of these runs posted many guards around the harvest edge. The Rats did their best to stay out of sight, but it was increasingly difficult to do so when carrying out any rat-work.

None of the Rats of Tall Trees Side were particularly skilled when it came to fighting techniques, though everyone could track animals and hunt, when necessary. Wood Wasp could throw a knife better than anyone else, so he tried his best to teach the others. Rock and Willow passed on what they knew of the Wanderer's so-called 'fighting', which was really self-defence. Neamis rat-talked advice when he could.

The approach of summer meant everyone in the Forest now got more to eat. However, seasoned Rats warned there would soon be blights and rots and many more biting insects. No one except the Harvesters used camp fires, now that winter was over. But the tree speakers started gathering certain barks that brewed well in cold water. They stored them in empty food caches, ready for making cold-water washes and drinks to treat insect bites, skin rots and the effects of eating rotten food.

After long stretches of rat-work, Rock and Willow liked to retreat to their glade among the whittle trees. There, they could sleep, eat, wash and drink fresh water in comfort. And there was privacy for love-play, and relative safety for far-talking sessions.

Rock questioned Syme about Rust Dewsinger and Caul Driver, but Syme's replies were confusing. It seemed Rust Dewsinger had settled well at the Bees' Nest at first, but then Rock's mother had begun sending messages to Naesy. Red's persistence had unnerved Rust, or so Syme believed. In the end, with the agreement of the other Bees' Nest Rats, he had set out for the Forest, claiming to have heard its call.

" _But you know how they are, those elders' people. They don't say much,"_ Syme told Rock, during their latest exchange. _"They asked after Caul Driver and Rust Dewsinger together, see. Maybe they thought the pair of them were hiding here at the Bees' Nest, like you and Willow did once. I don't know. We let 'em search, but they learned nothing from us. Why don't the elders know where Caul is? He works for 'em. Or used to. I believed Rust when he said he wanted to be a Rat. So has Caul switched sides, I wonder?"_

Rock could not believe that. He could accept that Rust might truly have joined the Rats, but not Caul Driver. Rust and Caul must have worked together many times during their employment with Rock's parents. If they really were travelling together, it was most likely on behalf of Capability and Red.

After his conversation with Syme, Rock tried to explain this to Willow, who had kept watch for him as usual.

"Couldn't Syme be right, though?" she argued. "What if Caul did switch sides?"

Rock was not in the mood for more discussion at that moment. He only wanted to get some sleep, right away.

"Not possible, Willow," he snapped. "And I don't want to talk about it anymore."

They did not return to the subject at all in the days that followed.

Towards the end of one warm afternoon, Rock watched the harvest from high up in the golden yaw tree. For a time, the sight completely absorbed his attention. Then an urgent rat-call from Wood Wasp interrupted him.

The call warned of the approach of two strangers. Then Wood Wasp added that these two new arrivals had been asking after Rock and Willow. Immediately, Rock joined in with the general rat-call, asking everyone else to keep his location secret.

Rock barely had time to absorb the new information from Wood Wasp before the sound of a man's voice reached his ears. Someone was calling out his names. Both of his names.

There was someone standing right underneath the golden yaw tree. It was not one of the Forest Rats. Rock was certain of that, because the voice he had just heard belonged to Rust Dewsinger.

Rock gripped golden yaw bark tightly with his fingers. He felt his jaw clench and there was a buzz in his ears from the sudden tension. Leaning full length along the branch, he looked down. The man was shadowed, right underneath the tree branch. Rock could have dropped down to crush him onto the ground. Remembering his commitment to the Wanderers, he decided not to.

"Where's Caul Driver?" he asked, instead.

Looking up, Rust spread his arms wide to show he had no weapons. He had swapped his thin city clothing for a rough village jacket and trousers. The skin of his face looked recently roughened from living outdoors.

He looked confused and uncertain. "How could you possibly know he's with me? Are you... did you... has someone tracked us here? I thought we'd been careful to hide our real names. We knew you'd never agree to see us if we said who we really are. But we really, really don't mean you any harm." Rust spoke quickly, barely pausing for breath.

Without waiting for an answer to his own questions, Rust went on, "Caul Driver's waiting with your friends, the ones called Hest and Joren. We knew you'd run if you saw him straight away. But you really need to listen to us. Please? Caul Driver's joined the Rats. It's true. Really. Will you come down so we can talk properly?" He appeared to be trying to get all his words out before Rock could stop him.

"Bog droppings!" Rock swore. "Rotted leech turds!"

He had just spotted Willow stepping out from the whittle trees. She was breathing hard. Rock caught her brief rat-talk, through which she assured him that Caul Driver remained with Hest, who was keeping an eye on him. In spite of Rock's urgent instruction to her to flee, she moved into Rust's line of sight.

"Oh, ferreting boggits, Willow," Rock muttered, under his breath.

She came to stand underneath the golden yaw, keeping a few paces back from Rust.

"I can't see there's anything to lose by talking, Rock," she said, although he could hear a faint tremble in her voice. "If they've found out where we are, they could have told Capability already."

"Capability doesn't know where you are, I promise you," said Rust. He stepped further away from the foot of the tree.

Rock allowed himself a few moments to process the sudden uprush of feelings that had begun when he first heard Rust's voice, after all this time. The strongest, most instant reaction had been anger. He had not realised until that moment, how betrayed by Rust he felt. Rust had been Red Dawnweaver's housekeeper, whose duties had often included caring for Rock when he had been a child.

After Rock had heard the rats die in his own bedroom walls, Rust had tried to explain to him what a talent was. Yet, he had never once mentioned the talents throughout Rock's childhood. Rock had not stayed in the Spice City long enough to learn any more from him.

Clutching the bark of the golden yaw hard, Rock tried to ignore what was in the past. He needed to pay attention to what Rust was like right now. They had both changed a great deal since the days when Rock's name had been Jen Dawnweaver.

He became aware of some Green, who were watching from quite nearby. They assured him they would give aid if he or Willow found themselves in trouble. It was tempting to ask them to help him talk in silent words with Willow, right now. But that technique had turned out to be tricky, and they were still working on getting it right. If they were not careful, it seemed to make their external senses vulnerable to confusion.

Slowly and fearfully, Rock climbed down from the tree. Willow immediately came forward to join him. There was a fallen log not far away. Taking his hand, Willow pulled him over to sit on it. He understood that she was trying to indicate this was their territory, pushing Rust to behave as though he had stepped into their home.

Finally, Rock forced himself to gesture towards Rust Dewsinger, inviting the small man to sit with them.

Rust settled himself carefully. Rock noticed him check to make sure there were no biting insects or poisonous plants, just as any experienced Forest Rat would do.

"So much has changed since you left the city," Rust said. "And if you'll let us, we'll tell you all about it. You, and any other Rats who want to hear. And the Green, we know you can talk to them."

"You and Caul Driver?" asked Willow, sounding sceptical.

There was no need to remind her not to mention far-talking or rat-talking. Clearly, she was just as keen to go carefully as Rock was. They had no proof that Rust and Caul were not part of a trap set by Capability Reader.

"Hear me out," Rust went on, as though he could guess their thoughts. "You two have got every reason not to trust me. And it's natural you trust Caul Driver even less. We've been looking for you since the start of winter. Caul's good at finding people. Following their trail. You already know that. Only, this time, he was also on the run. He found out something. From the city elders. And they know he knows. If he'd stayed in the city, he couldn't have stopped them. They'd have had him murdered."

At this, Willow drew in a sharp, audible breath. Rock could guess what she was thinking. If the elders would murder Caul Driver, what might they do to the people of the Bees' Nest. But Rust obviously knew what must be concerning her.

"The stories your village friend Goshi told the news-sheet writers have stirred up a whole lot on anger in the city," he said. "But there's probably no reason for you to be afraid for the Rats of the Bees' Nest. At least, not for a while. They've become so well known, if they're attacked it's going to be too obvious the elders are responsible. But Caul Driver is known to be an elders' man. No one would suspect them of getting rid of one of their own, so it would be easy for them to do. And now... now Caul and I... we want to help the Rats. We think the harvest is wrong... well, now we do. But we need your help, because you know who we are... who we were. You can... We hope you can convince the other Rats to believe us. The elders have got secret plans..."

Rock felt stunned, even though he had been partly warned what to expect by Syme and Sparkle. He had no idea how to respond.

"But how did you find us?" Willow asked, sounding very suspicious.

"We tried to enter the Forest in the same place we thought you would have done. But the Rats in that place said they'd never seen you. Caul was certain they weren't lying, even though he'd been clever about how he asked – so they wouldn't guess his interest was anything more than nosey gossip."

"So who told you?" Rock heard his own voice come out like the threatening growl of a wolf or a bear.

Surprisingly, Rust did not flinch. In fact, he seemed to stand straighter. "No one," he replied. "Not really. We never lied about who we are, but we didn't say much about it either. We soon guessed there's some secret way Forest Rats can communicate, but they wouldn't share it with us, because they never came to fully trust us. But someone did happen to mention another Rat-group in this direction, so we came for a look. When we were nearly here, we also got a bit more information by using our talents."

"Talents?" Rock repeated, even more shocked than before.

Then he realised he should not really be surprised. Throughout his own childhood, the talents had been a well hidden secret in the Spice City. Later, he had discovered how all of that had been an elaborate lie encouraged by elders who were also Harvesters. But Caul Driver and Rust Dewsinger had been adults before the lie had grown so large. They must remember how things had been before. Even so, it was the first time Rock had ever heard of people developing talents so late in adulthood.

"I was right, then," said Willow, speaking slowly, as though putting her thoughts together. "City people can still become talented. Naesy..." She stopped, abruptly.

Perhaps she had been about to mention the progress of talent lessons in Riverside. If so, it was best not to give Rust a chance to wonder how she could have picked up such information. Rock almost smiled as he realised that he and Willow actually knew more about some of the latest news in the Spice City than Rust and Caul did.

Then Rock drew in a sharp breath. A sudden new wave of anger hit without warning. The feeling was not really directed at Rust, or even Caul Driver, but at Harvesters in general, and the way they had deceived people. It was a response to many hurts and injustices he had not properly uncovered until he had left the city behind. Struggling to control his emotion, Rock concentrated, again, on what Rust was saying.

"I can tree speak and Caul Driver has a small amount of talent as a stone listener. Took him three days to find that out, but he was so pleased with himself. We haven't had a lot of practice, but some of the Rats helped us. When we were fairly close to here, Caul found a seam of heavy rock. He said it passed through a cave with memories of sheltering a big group of people during winter. So we went there, and the stones confirmed it. There's a pond full of mistweed, too. Some of it seemed to know of the talented ones who came with the lost Green who returned."

If any of that was true, Rust and Caul had already developed talents that were surprisingly powerful, considering they were so new. Rust made eye contact with Rock in a way that suggested he was begging to be believed.

Staring hard at the former housekeeper and breathing his scent, Rock could find no hint that the man was lying. It would be easy enough to check with the mistweed later, and ask if it had recently _talked_ with an unfamiliar tree speaker.

Willow sent Rock a silent thought, by rat-talking. _"Why didn't they get talent-lost?"_ was the meaning he took from it.

"We're old to be taking on such a new life, I know," Rust continued, meanwhile. "It was hard to persuade anyone we were serious, but in the end a few of the Tall Pines Rats started to believe us, I think. They gave us some advice, anyway."

Perhaps Rust had noticed something in Willow's expression. His next words almost seemed to answer her. "They told us how the Forest usually makes difficulties for talented people when they're new here," he said. "But, we've never known anything different, have we? We're learning to work inside Forest right from the start. Maybe it's easier that way. I don't know. We can't get more than odd flashes of something strange from the Green. We... I mean... I'm certain the Green know we're here. And sometimes we can tell if they're close. Nothing more than that. Not yet."

Rust was talking fast again, sounding even more nervous. He had good reason to be, and Rock felt little sympathy.

"Was Caul Driver branded?" Willow asked suddenly, speaking directly to Rust, out loud.

"No." Rust looked uneasy. "He left the city before it could be done to him."

"Because he didn't want to be marked as someone's property?" Willow's voice was sharp with accusation.

Caul Driver had branded her on behalf of Rock's father. Even now, Rock tensed with shame at the thought.

After an uncomfortable pause, Rust went on. "I'll tell you all that later. If you're willing to hear. Or Caul can tell you himself if you'll let him."

Rust shifted his legs, and Rock glanced at the man's feet for the first time. His shoes were made of some sort of tightly woven leaves. He had most likely made them for himself.

"There's so much you and the other Rats need to know. But for now, please, please, would you listen to this one thing, both of you." Rust paused, looking from Willow to Rock and back again.

"We're listening," said Willow.

"You should get away from the harvest. Go anywhere there are no Harvesters. Don't let them catch you. We came looking for you to warn you. It wasn't just that we needed your help."

Willow did not speak, or rat-talk. Yet Rock could feel her terror. It was an echo of his own.

"Why?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

Rust looked down at the ground. "Capability wants you back," he said softly.

If Rust and Caul had been able to rat-talk, they would not have needed to come here in person. Rock almost laughed out loud.

"We guessed that," he replied stiffly, instead.

Willow did not even seem to acknowledge Rust's warning. "So, when you arrived here, you didn't mention exactly who you really are?" she queried, returning to an earlier part of the conversation.

A new thought occurred to Rock, just then. Many new Rats were about to start arriving as a result of the development of far-talking. Among all of those unknown people, there could potentially be agents of the Harvesters or the city elders. In fact, such a person could be among the Rats, already.

"Um, no. Look, we both regret a lot of what happened in the past," Rust was saying. "And we've come all this way because we had to warn you. That's how important it is to us. We feel... a responsibility... a need to put things right."

At this last phrase, Rock got an odd queasy feeling.

"You've got to believe me," Rust was saying. "You know what Forest is like. We would never have come here and gone through all this just to earn coin from Red and Capability."

Rock shook his head. That was exactly what all harvest workers chose to do. And anyway, nothing could put right what had already been done. Yet, however much he wanted to be wary, Rock found that he did not really believe Rust was lying. He smelled nervous, but truthful.

There was one, very difficult question Rock still needed to ask. He stood up, moving to stand directly in front of Rust.

Focussing all of his attention on the older man's face, watching for any twitch of his skin or blink of his eyelids, Rock said, "Are you my real father?"

Rust drew in a sharp breath. He was looking straight up into Rock's eyes.

"I see," he answered. "Well, I can understand why you might have thought so. But, no. Your real father is Capability Reader. I'm absolutely certain of that."

Rock expanded all of his senses as far as he could. Yet he still could not detect any trace of a lie.

Rust had been housekeeper for Red and Capability since before Rock was born. And Rock did not want to know just exactly how Rust could be so certain about his reply. In all the times he had wondered about Rust's relationship with his mother, Rock had never dared to consider how far it mattered, one way or another.

"Thank you," he said, carefully. "I just wanted to be sure."

To his surprise, he found that it was a relief. Now he could look on Rust as an ordinary man, who once worked for his parents. A man who had, at one time, been Rock's mother's lover, but that was all. And there was no hidden cause for Capability Reader's blind cruelty. That remained just as inexplicable as it always had been.

"You two shouldn't stay here," Rust insisted. "Get as far away from the roads and the deadlands as you can. Go deep into the Forest and hide. I don't know how soon Capability will get here, but he will come. He'll do anything to rebuild his reputation. And he's in a hurry, because as soon as word got out about the Green you released, the other Harvesters all wanted to have a go at capturing their own."

Rock was still not ready to allow Rust to lead the conversation. "Tell us _exactly_ how you and Caul found out where we were," he said. "Why should we trust you now? How do we know you haven't come from one of the harvest runs? You could already have sent a letter with a message carrier to tell Capability where we are."

Rust raised his arms to his side. "I can't prove it to you that we haven't," he replied, quietly. "I don't know how to make you believe me, Jen... Rock. As to how we found you, well, you know Caul Driver's an expert at finding people, and not just in the Spice City. He made some pretty good guesses about where you went after you left the Wanderers."

"You've talked with the Wanderers?" Willow interrupted him.

"No, we didn't need to. There was a clean-up team of harvest wagons just outside the city gate we went out of. Caul spotted them parked up by a rotted old barn. I would have missed them. Whatever they were hiding, the owners were so keen to keep it secret, they invited us into their wagon for a drink, just to keep us where they could see us. Caul gave them some coin. For keeping quiet about seeing us, as much as for giving us information. They told us about some Wanderers back along the road who'd been very touchy about a particular wagon. And two city young'uns had been travelling with them. That gave us a lead."

Rock wondered what else Caul Driver had learned from the clean-up team, and how he would use what he knew. Perhaps Caul had known all along that Harvesters were trading with strays.

"So, as we followed the Great Forest Road, Caul asked around after those Wanderers," Rust explained. "He tracked them through the low villages. We spent most of the winter there. Caul just did his usual business of drawing out the talk when we went to inns and taverns. In the end we guessed you weren't with those Wanderers anymore. We thought you must already have reached the Forest. But we had no way to find out which particular group of Forest Rats you were planning on joining, or where they would be. So then we cut back to the Great Forest Road. We thought you might be dead... we weren't sure you'd live through a forest winter. I'm so relieved to see you both. Now I want to know you'll get away from here and stay safe. Please."

Rock said nothing in response to this. Neither did Willow.

"Look, Capability knows you talked with the Green," Rust went on, returning to the matter he seemed to think was most urgent. "And Caul says he was talking about building some kind of new harvesting machines. For harvesting _people_!"

Hearing this, Rock began to forgive Rust's impatience, just a little bit. He gave a long sigh, admitting to himself that perhaps Rust deserved to be listened to, after all.

"We won't run away from you, Rust," said Willow. "Now tell us all that we need to know."

Rust appeared to take a steadying breath. "Capability's machines are just madness, Caul says," he then continued. "Though Caul thinks he's still bound to come after you. But it's not only Capability you've got to worry about, it's the elders... the top Harvesters. They're hiring strays who've lived in the Forest a long time and survived."

Rock sighed loudly. Strays again.

"People who know Forest as well as anyone, but who behave like predator animals," Rust went on, sounding disgusted. "Stern and Capability hired strays to catch Green for them last spring. Did you know that?"

"I think... well, we thought so, yes," Willow answered him.

Rock did not speak, although the news did not surprise him.

"I guess the elders found out," Rust went on. "Now they're going to take over.... do it again, paying the strays directly. I heard at the Bees' Nest how Capability told you he was planning to train his Green to be harvest workers, Willow. But Caul thinks the elders aren't interested in that. They want to keep Green in the city."

"Why?" Rock asked, too astounded to keep quiet any longer.

Willow finally stood up, coming to lay a hand on Rock's arm.

"I think I can imagine," she told him. "Everyone's starting to find out about the talents again. The elders must think if they introduce another new thing – like Green servants, who can be given instructions by a talented person working for a Harvester – they can still be in control. They think they can hold on to the power."

"That can never work," said Rock, irritably. Any Green taken out of Forest would soon die. And surely no one talented would actually be willing to help keep them captive."

"No, it can't, I agree," said Rust. "But I also believe in what Caul Driver overheard. The elders are convinced it could work. That's the point. They're hiring strays, and if those strays find you two, they'll capture you like Green. Keep you like tame animals." Rust's breath caught as he finished the last sentence.

Rock was starting to feel slightly breathless, too. He made himself take a few slower, deeper breaths. There were no strays trying to catch him right here and now. The only possible threat in the present moment was Rust Dewsinger, himself.

"Did Caul Driver learn he had a talent before he left the city, or after?" Willow asked, suddenly. The change of subject was probably a deliberate move to help them all stay calm, but she sounded genuinely intrigued.

Rust began to seem less distressed as he answered her. "After. I think it grew on him slowly while we were travelling. He wasn't certain of it until we met the first Forest Rats."

"Oh," she replied. "Hmm."

Willow still held onto Rock's arm. She was looking at him closely, but Rock could think of nothing to say to her. They did not rat-talk. He felt emptied out. Unable to decide what he thought about anything.

"Please," said Rust, "Come with me to talk to Caul. There's much more to say about what the city elders are planning to do, but he should be the one to say it."

Staring down at his own feet, Rock forced himself to consider the possibility of meeting with Caul Driver. A terrifying anger started rising up inside his chest. He became certain he could never manage to do such a thing.

He lifted his head to look directly at Willow. "I can't meet Caul Driver," he said, ignoring Rust's presence and talking only to her.

"Rock," she answered in a whisper. "If anyone should be saying that, it should be me, not you. I'm the one he branded."

"On the orders of _my_ father, though. I just can't... please."

She returned his gaze steadily for several heartbeats, then turned to face Rust, who got to his feet.

"I'll go with you," she said. "On the way, I want to hear about my honeywood sapling. Did you water it like you promised me?"

Rock wanted to tell her not to be so trusting, and not to go with Rust, even if the man did smell truthful. Yet that would be unfair, the choice belonged to Willow. Closing his eyes and clenching his hands into fists, he watched her leave with Rust Dewsinger.

Finally alone in the glade, he was able to let tears of frustration and hurt overspill from his stinging eyes.

However much he tried to move on from the past, he still felt betrayed by an entire city. What Caul apparently thought the elders wanted to do with the Green was entirely believable. Yet, Rock's whole childhood had been spent believing in a whole net of lies. And those lies had left him helplessly ignorant when he had come into his talent.

As he thought back over that time, Rock began pacing between the fallen log and the golden yaw tree. Movement helped him to think.

He had walked to the hills when his talent came in, with no plan except to get out of the city. It had been a while before he had come to the attention of Yenna and Old Jesty, who had helped him. The first person to shelter him had actually been Goshi. The bad-tempered old man had attempted to beat Rock for disobedience. So Rock had left Goshi behind too, just as he had left his father and the whole of the Spice City.

Later, Rock had discovered how people like Goshi could be helpful or dangerous, depending on the circumstances. Yet, he was certain the same would never be true of his parents. Goshi had always cared about the Forest. Rock's parents considered it only as a resource for them to use for their own ends.

Continuing to walk one way and then the other, Rock increased his pace. He found that he could acknowledge how Caul Driver and Rust Dewsinger had also been used by his parents. Though he was not sure that meant the two men were now trustworthy.

Willow was so much braver than Rock could ever be. She had been right to say it made more sense for her to be the one most afraid of Caul Driver. Yet she had still gone to meet the man.

Rock was angry with himself for being so weak. And yet, still, he could not bring himself to go after Willow. He punched a fist against the trunk of a nearby softbark tree. It was a gesture many Forest Rats resorted to when they were angry. Softbark trees did not seem to mind. Sometimes the bark even seemed to respond by forcefully springing back, as though offering sympathy.

For some reason, Rock's thoughts kept returning to Goshi. That old man was one of the most sour, unpleasant, irritating people he had ever met. But, in the short time he had once lived in Goshi's stone house, Rock had got to know him well. Goshi's nastiness came mostly from misery and fear.

Eventually, Goshi had found the strength to fight back against his own unhappiness. In doing so, he had set off a whole lot of changes in the Spice City. Goshi had proved it was never too late to make new choices, for as long as you lived.

Scrubbing at his wet face with his hands, Rock came to a stop, at last. His wandering thoughts had come round to Wildcat. He wondered if the choices she had made, just before she died, had set her free. Or if they had only caught her in a trap she could not escape from.

THIRTY – WILLOW

Hest, Joren and Caul Driver waited on a flat stone beside a stream. The first thing Willow did when she got there was to search Hest's face. She knew his eyes would show her what he thought of Caul.

Hest did not appear nervous or worried. Clearly, he believed whatever explanation the former elders' man had given for his arrival with Rust. Joren, however, was watching Caul Driver with a look of great suspicion.

Rust stepped forward to stand with the others. He was a head shorter than Caul and Joren, and almost two heads shorter than Hest. Willow remained where she was, more than ten paces back from Caul Driver.

Caul still wore the leather clothes of an elders' man. He smiled at her.

"Leather clothes are tough and warm," he said, before she could comment on them, herself. "Not many people outside the city even know what they stand for. And they cost me nothing. I had them anyway."

He had always been good at saying what was in someone's thoughts before they voiced them, Willow remembered. Yet his smile had changed. It now showed in the creases at the edges of his eyes. Also, he looked much older than when she had last seen him, just two seasons ago. The skin of his face was less taut than before, although his body looked even thinner.

"It's a warm day, today," she commented, keeping her voice level and not responding to his smile.

"It is." He did not complain of feeling hot. Instead, he said, "I started to question what I was doing when I branded you. And when I saw those Green in that crate. I didn't like how things were going. Then I started to really take in what those Rats at the Bees' Nest are doing, and what it means. Decided they're right. Working for coin is a trap."

Those last few words sounded to Willow like something he might have heard someone else say. It was hard to believe that Caul Driver no longer wanted to earn coin. More likely, he just wanted to find a less disreputable way of doing so. Nevertheless, she did believe he had not liked branding her. She had watched his face as he did it.

"Do you want revenge on Capability Reader?" she asked. "Is that why you travelled all this way? Is that why you decided to warn us he's coming?"

His second smile was a lot sharper than the first. "I do want that," he replied. "And Rust Dewsinger wants revenge on Red. Of course he does. He loved her." Caul glanced sideways at Rust, who did not deny this accusation.

"And now you have a talent?"

"Stone listening. Silent, long, patient. Who'd have thought it?"

Caul's voice carried such deep wonder that Willow knew he spoke the truth. She looked towards Hest, who gave a slight nod of his head. There was no need for him to voice his agreement by rat-talking as well.

"Willow, there's a lot you need to know," Caul Driver said, next. "You and Rock, and the other Rats here, too. Strays are everywhere in this part of the Forest. More and more of them, surrounding the harvest like flies round a corpse. Do the Rats understand how many of them are out there? It's time all of you Rats moved somewhere safer. We tried to tell them at Tall Pines, but they never trusted us enough to believe it."

"Leaving this place is exactly what the Harvesters want us to do. So we're not going," she replied, without hesitation.

"You're no help to the Forest if you're dead," Caul Driver pointed out.

Willow did not completely agree, but she did not contradict him. It was true that, right now, she was more use alive than as carrion.

"Why are the Harvesters encouraging strays to come here? Is it that they think strays can catch Green for them?" she asked.

If that was so, the Harvesters were likely to be disappointed. The strays that had attacked the winter greenhome for dusk had been completely ignorant about there being sleeping Green inside, as well.

"Partly, yes," Caul answered.

Willow narrowed her eyes, looking at him carefully. "And...?"

"And I expect they may also want the strays to catch Rats. Talented Rats whom they imagine they can use to make the Green do what they want." Caul's voice remained stern and steady.

He had not moved, standing with his arms at his side, relaxed and yet poised. His stance reminded Willow of Bee, or even Merel, rather than any Harvester she had ever seen in the Forest.

After the attack on the greenhome, most of the Rats had agreed those strays must have learned a little about Green, but had never worked out the full picture. It was likely that rumours and stories got passed between different groups of strays, and that few of them knew as much about Green as they pretended to. Some of the strays might be exploiting Harvesters, just as much as some Harvesters wanted to exploit the strays.

"We should listen to him, Willow," Hest spoke up, just then. "Caul says there are two really big groups of strays less than six days walk from here. That's as well as the ones already here – the ones we already know are with the Harvesters by Tall Trees."

Then he added more, by rat-talking, so skilfully that his face gave nothing away. He let her know that word of what Caul and Rust had reported was already being passed on between the Forest Rats.

Willow had closed herself off from rat-talk since she had left Rock by the whittle grove. She had been too intent on meeting with Caul Driver to attend to anything else. Apparently, she had missed out on a great deal of rat-conversation. Hest told her that all of the Forest Rats were now comparing each other's reports of sightings of strays more carefully. And Merel was questioning the Green, who did not mention what they did not know was important. They could have noticed something significant without realising it.

Out loud, Willow asked Caul Driver, "Just how many strays are there in the Forest, altogether?"

He laughed. "I haven't counted them all, exactly. We came across three groups of thirty or more, and maybe ten or twelve smaller groups... of three, four, five people travelling together. All of them heading the same way, towards the harvest edge."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Willow," he replied. "It wasn't hard to keep track of their direction, so long as we stayed behind them."

"I'm goin' right now t' see Spider," Joren announced, suddenly. "Each Rat must choose for themselves what t' do next. But all must be given a chance to get away."

The silent ones had their own systems in place for keeping track of the information that talented Rats could share through rat-talk. Willow gave Joren a small nod, showing that she understood.

"Go safe," Hest said quietly to his lover. "I'll find you in a short while."

As Joren was leaving, Willow briefly rat-talked with Rock. It had been quite some time since she had left him alone, stewing in his own anger. Struggling to avoid showing any change in her expression, she was surprised to receive a long rush of urgent thoughts from him.

"Um, Hest," she then said out loud, "I think we should go and speak with Rock about what Rust and Caul have just told us." Then, speaking to the pair of them, she added, "You two, just stay here until one of the Rats comes to find you. They'll all be more willing to believe they can trust you if you don't go lurking about on your own."

Grasping Hest's arm, she then pulled him with her into the cover of some lissen vines. Rat-talking, even though they were face to face, Willow quickly passed on what she had just learned from Rock.

Like Hest, Rock had recently been following the forest-wide, rat-talked discussion that had begun as a result of Caul Driver's observations of the strays.

Willow already knew that Forest Rats and the Green had been sharing their sightings of strays for some time. And that it had been obvious that some were going towards the harvest edge. Like the rest of the Rats, she had assumed those people wanted to trade with Harvesters, or work for them for coin. But, if Caul Driver's opinion of what the Spice City elders were planning was true, something far worse than that was going on.

While Rust had been leading Willow towards Hest, Joren and Caul Driver, Rock had apparently decided to check out Rust's story. As Willow now explained to Hest, Rock had first rat-talked with some of the Tall Pines Rats. They had easily remembered Rust and Caul, and had _listened_ as Rock had confirmed that Caul Driver had truly been an elders' man in the Spice City. Whether or not Caul had genuinely switched sides to become a Rat, one thing was certain. It would easily have been possible for him to have overheard the top Harvesters' secret plans.

Willow's rat-talk with Rock had been swift, but she was left with the impression that some of her friends might already making preparations to leave Tall Trees Side. Rock had convinced them to seriously consider Caul's warning. And the possibility that Caul might have been right was already being passed between Rats at Tall Pines, and elsewhere.

Willow and Hest did not waste time going all the way to meet Rock at the whittle trees. Instead, they chose an area of densely growing plants, far enough from Rust and Caul that they could not be observed. Letting Hest rat-talk with Rock, Willow then reached for Merel. She hoped he could give her an idea of the Green's response to Caul's suggestions.

Merel responded immediately, telling her the Green were all in a great state of excitement. Yet, Merel did not think they would leave Tall Trees Side unless the Rats did, too. For that reason, he made it clear to Willow that she must prepare to go deeper into Forest, and soon.

Then Merel added something Willow found harder to grasp. He seemed to think the Green were encouraged to go deeper inside Forest because Forest wanted them there. And that it wanted all of the Rats, too. Just before Willow broke contact with Merel, she caught a visual image from him. It was a wide glade, surrounded by enormous trees of a kind Willow had never seen before.

After her contact with Merel was ended, strangely, the image remained vivid in her mind for another five or six heartbeats. Willow could also sense Forest, very strongly. As though it was calling to her, almost like it had done on the long journey to get here, last summer's end.

Coming back to herself, Willow shook her head. She looked up at Hest, who did not seem to be rat-talking any longer.

"It's true." He said. "Everyone's deciding to leave. Just like that. All the Forest Rats. It's come now, so suddenly."

"You're not making sense, Hest," said Willow. "No one's making sense. What's going on?"

"Change," he answered. "Ripples in the water meeting one another. When they meet, they clash, and the pattern changes. Far-talking. Rat-talking. The Green. The Forest. If we stay here, we'll be wasting time. There's something else we can do, but we can do it better if we go somewhere Forest can help. There's a glade..."

"I know," she answered with a sigh. The scale of what seemed to be happening was overwhelming. She scrubbed her hands over her eyes, as though it would help her to see more clearly what was going on.

"So, was it what Caul Driver had to say, that made everyone decide to go, just like that?" she asked Hest. "Is Forest working through him? Or through the Green? Or is it only a coincidence this vision of a grove's come at us just now?"

He smiled. "No idea," he replied. "But if the Rats of Tall Trees Side are leaving, I need to find Joren as soon as possible."

"What about Rust Dewsinger and Caul Driver? Does the Forest want them, too?"

"I think so," Hest replied, thoughtfully. "Though, if it does, they should be able to feel it through their talents by now. If I ask them the right questions, I could probably check, before letting on to them about what's happening. All right. I'll find Joren first. Then I'll go back to Rust and Caul. You should go to Rock."

His expression had become more serious. "Willow, if it's right for Rust and Caul to head for this mysterious grove as well, I think Joren and I should go with them. I believed their story, and I do think Forest wants them, but I'm not stupid enough to imagine I couldn't be wrong. Whatever you and Rock decide to do, don't tell me about it. Don't even rat-talk to me for another moon. That way, even if Caul's actually still working for the elders, there won't be any way they can get to you through me. If I don't know where you are, I can't tell them. So far, none of the Rats actually seem to know how to get this grove they're seeing in their minds. The Green or the Forest will have to show everyone the way. If it turns out that Caul and Rust don't deserve to get there, I don't think they'll be able to. But I hope they do. And I hope we'll see you and Rock there."

Willow took in his meaning slowly. There had been far too many sudden changes in this one afternoon. It was getting very difficult to keep up. She eventually understood that Hest was saying goodbye to her for a second time.

"I hope we come back together again," she said, sadly, "just like before."

"Me too," he agreed. "But even if we don't, we can both far-talk and rat-talk, now. Let's stay out of contact for one moon, just to be on the safe side, while I'm with Rust and Caul. After that, it doesn't matter how far apart we end up, we can be in touch."

There was time for a quick hug and then Willow had to let Hest go. She then hurried all the way back to the golden yaw tree to be with Rock.

"So we go," said Rock, the moment she came within hearing of his voice. "But, apparently, the silent ones insist on staying."

"What? All of them? Including Joren? I thought the Green..."

"The Green have accepted it, apparently. I've just been rat-talking with Merel and Bee at the same time. They're certain everyone else is making plans to leave, including the Green."

As they had been talking, they had come closer together. Now they embraced, holding one another tightly.

"This is all happening too quickly. I'd almost started to believe we were really making some sort of difference here," Rock said. His head was bowed over hers, so that he was almost speaking into her hair. "But that's probably why the Harvesters have started getting so much more dangerous. I don't think they considered the Rats so much of a threat, before."

"And it feels like giving up, doesn't it?" Willow admitted. "To leave now. Even if Forest wants us to go, it still feels like the Harvesters won some kind of victory over the Rats. Without even trying. And the Harvesters don't even know about it, yet."

There was a sudden disturbance in the leaves of a nearby clump of whinbushes.

"It's Joren," Rock said, just as Willow was preparing to leap away and hide.

Remaining still, instead, she caught sight of Joren's distinctive hair as he clambered out through a tangle of branches.

"Just visiting quick," he said. "Didn't take me long ter find Spider. I were on my way back to Hest when he came lookin' fer me. Now there's a lot of folk I need to visit while I can. You'll be leaving soon, I'm sure. Hest told me how you and him are not goin' ter rat-talk fer a moon."

"He's not changed his mind, then. He's not staying with you?"

"Don't pretend ye'd rather he did, Willow," Joren replied. "Both of us know he's safer goin' into deep Forest. Even if it's in company of two men I don't trust as much as he does."

Willow stepped forward to give Joren a hug.

"Don't you worry about me," he instructed, softly. "I've always known I wouldn't keep him. And I'm needed here, but Hest should get away. As should all you talented ones."

"But you could go with him."

"No. That's not how I can help th' Forest, is it? I'm needed t' be here. I've got a good game goin' with th' carvings I've bin puttin' on trees. Ash can carve almost as good as me, but she still needs a bit more training. And, remember that slimevine that tricked you once? Me n' Spider have been back t' look at it. Harvest edge's got a lot closer to it, now, so we've got some ideas. Harvesters assume all Rats have talents, so they won't expect a nest of Rats t' be hidin' right close to a massive slimevine that's close to th' territory of a black beast, will they?"

"Be careful, Joren," Rock warned. "Do you want some animal talkers to tell the beast you're trying to protect it?"

"Beast could be roaming far away. Its territory runs a huge long way out from the slimevine. No need for you to talk with it. We c'n hear it coming if it decides to visit us. And it won't be hearing any talent from us. I'm thinking that's generally what attracts it to go near people, 'cause talent makes 'em seem like rival beasts."

"Well, take care of yourself, even so" Willow said. "I hope I'll see you again one day."

"Me too," he replied. "Th' winds sh'd treat ye well."

With that, he headed back the way he had come. Willow exchanged a sorrowful glance with Rock.

There were many more goodbyes throughout the evening, and all through the following two days. Merel and all of the Green retreated quickly from the harvest edge. Willow could not sense where they had gone. Rats who had already begun travelling reported back through rat-talk. Some said there were Green who had made themselves known to them and were showing them which way to go. Or, when they went the wrong way, Green would mysteriously arrive to set them right. Some of these Green were strangers to the Rats they helped.

Willow and Rock were among the last to set off. They had stayed to help empty most of the caches and hide the tree platforms. The idea was to confuse any Harvesters who might search the area later. And no one wanted to leave evidence that might lead Harvesters or strays after the silent ones.

When, at last, the two of them left Tall Trees Side for good, Willow allowed Rock to choose the route. He led her past the Long Shout, heading for a place he claimed to have learned about from some wolves. Every time Willow asked more about where they were going, he gave a secretive smile.

"Just trust me," he would repeat. "It's a surprise. I don't want to tell you in case it doesn't work."

No Green, strange or otherwise, came and introduced themselves. On the fourth morning since leaving Tall Trees Side, Rock led Willow to the edge of a small lake. By then, she was feeling very tired and grumpy.

"Something about this whole thing's still too much like running away for my liking," she admitted, after he had asked what was bothering her. "Wildcat never would have run away."

"We're going towards the centre of Forest," he replied, sounding annoyingly cheerful. "She would have loved that. It's not running away. I should know, I'm an expert at it, remember? Remember when I helped you run away to Goshi's?"

Willow frowned. She was not proud of what had led to that particular adventure.

"Anyway, this is different," Rock said. "For one thing, the Forest wants us to do it. I think that's because we can do something, or learn something, in this grove it's showed us. Something important. Come on. We need to go along the shore a way. As far as those drip-trees."

They came to a stop next to the clump of drip-trees. Long thin leaves hung down with their tips trailing into the lake water. Rock began searching the ground for footprints.

"They're here," he murmured. "Just like they told me. Now we have to wait quietly."

"Who told you? These trees?" Willow tried to keep her voice low, even though she wanted to shout at him. His secretive behaviour was getting really annoying.

"The deer," he answered her, pointing.

A herd of black deer had arrived. She had not even noticed their silent approach. Their dark colouring camouflaged them against the shadowy understory of forest. They now stepped out of the shade near the waterside and came forward. Willow counted twelve of them. A stag, six adult females, and five youngsters.

She had to swallow her annoyance immediately. Rock was already animal talking. Very gently Willow tried to join in. She was not able to say very much, or receive a great deal of information in return. Rock was obviously having a much more detailed exchange, especially with the stag.

At last, he turned to Willow. "We can ride them," he said, out loud. "They're shorter and stronger than brown deer. Some people call them low-deer, for their short legs, but those legs are strong."

Willow stared at the deer. They did not look at all low to her. Their legs did seem a little thicker than the brown deer that lived in open hill country near her home-village.

"Um, is this usual, though?" she asked. "Have they given rides to other Forest Rats?"

"I don't think so. Probably no one's asked them before."

"You asked them?"

"Of course."

Willow finally switched from watching the deer to look at Rock.

"Forest talks with them, too," he continued. "They can take us right to where it wants us to be. We'll even overtake the Green. Unless some other Rats have learned how to fly, or to ride black beasts, we could be the first to arrive where Forest wants us to be. This herd know the place well. They say it's a lovely place to graze."

Willow opened her mouth to speak. Then she could think of nothing to say.

Rock was smiling at her. "You'll swallow flies," he said. "This is your surprise. We're going to ride deer into the heart of the Forest."

At last, Willow found herself able to say something. "Other animal talkers must have had the same idea," she said, warily. "Don't assume we'll travel faster than everyone else." Even so, she was beginning to be caught up in Rock's enthusiasm.

Taking her hand, Rock led her towards a large doe.

"They'll take it in turns carrying us, so they don't get too tired," he explained. "I promise you, these deer are easily strong enough."

Willow was not carrying food or spare clothing, or blankets. Neither was Rock. They did each have several flasks of fresh water attached to carrying belts, but that was the only extra weight, besides themselves.

She now stood right up close to the head of the female deer. One of the animal's big, dark, heavy-lashed eyes blinked as it regarded her. It twitched the skin of its flank to dislodge a fly. Reaching out one hand, Willow stroked the dark brown fur on its neck. Animal talking, she thanked it, expressing respect and awe as far as she could manage. In return, it conveyed welcome.

Rock helped her climb onto the animal's back. After some experimentation, Willow sat so that she was stable and the deer was comfortable as well. Then her mount began to walk.

At first, it took concentration to know where to grip with her knees and how to grasp the longer fur on the deer's shoulders to stop herself sliding off. By the time Willow felt able to look up and turn her head to find Rock, he was already confidently riding the stag. Rock's mount soon moved forward to lead the rest of the herd. The female carrying Willow adjusted her position so as to be the next in line behind him.

The herd of black deer slipped between trees, up and down stony banks, and along the paths of streams. They were rarely all visible to Willow at the same time. Through her animal talking talent, she could tell that each one of them knew the location of all other members of the group. Even when they could not see each other, they could always pick up one another's scent.

Once, in a relatively open stretch, Willow's mount communicated something to her about the obvious strength of Rock's thighs. Willow laughed out loud at that, while trying to reply with an answering sense of pride in her mate.

They rode on for the rest of the day. The deer took occasional short breaks, grazing in grassy patches under breaks in the tree canopy. Willow and Rock were then able to dismount and rest, briefly.

When it was coming close to sunset, the herd stopped again. As soon as Willow and Rock had returned to the ground, all of the deer went away into a wrist tree thicket. They needed to go where they would not be easily spotted by large night-time predators. Willow forced her stinging limbs to move as she and Rock explored the area in which they now found themselves.

There was a little stream of fresh water running underneath some mossy rocks. It ran along beside a line of heavy loom trees. Entwined by the roots of one of the huge trees was a large boulder that lay tilted, pointing away from the stream. That would provide a perfect shelter for the night. After eating a small meal of raw green leaves and tubers, they pushed fallen leaves under the tilted stone to make a bed.

As night fell, they lay naked on top of their own clothing. Stars showed through gaps between the highest leaf-clusters beyond the roof of stone. The air flowing over Willow's skin started to feel uncomfortably cold. She considered whether to reach for her blouse or just cuddle closer to Rock. They were both very tired, but some love-play would be pleasant.

Suddenly, Willow thought she had caught a rat-shout.

"Who was that?" she said aloud. "Rock, did you get that?"

"What?" he answered, sleepily.

"I thought there was a rat-shout."

"Nothing I noticed." He reached out one arm to her. She shifted closer to him, and soon decided the shout must have been in her imagination, after all.

Then something hit her mind with force. Something definitely came into her head from elsewhere, and she was powerless against it. Willow rolled sideways, away from Rock. Another person's thoughts had just pushed inside her own.

Even before Willow had consciously figured out why her sense of that person was so familiar, her body had reacted with fear. Her eyes were open wide. She struggled to take in enough air with each quick, panicked breath.

No words had invaded her thoughts. It was more like a sense of intention, coming from another person. The Rats called this a mind-voice. And this one had a very distinctive flavour. Willow had never _heard_ it before, but she had heard its owner's spoken voice. The two were so similar, there could be no doubt. It was the mind-voice of Stern Greylight.

The force of his intention was sickeningly strong. No words were necessary. Willow knew what he wanted her to understand. She flung both arms out to her sides and tried to push his thoughts out of her head.

Her eyes were still open and it was not fully dark. She saw Rock sit up. He was staring at her. Willow could not speak. Nor could she use her talent. The voice in her mind shocked her too much.

Then it was gone, just as suddenly as it had arrived. Yet she was certain it had not been her own imagination. Someone else had talked inside her head, and the mind-voice had been that of Stern Greylight. There had been no taste of Forest in what Willow had sensed. She did not think it could have been a slimevine or a black beast.

Finally pulling herself together enough to say something, she asked Rock, "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" he asked. "What happened to you? Are you all right? You were jerking your arms around. Were you asleep? Was it a nightmare?"

He began massaging her arms to warm them. Then he started bundling her back into her clothing. Until that moment, Willow had not even noticed how much she was shivering.

"Stern... Greylight," she managed to get out. "His mind-voice. Not me thinking about him. Him."

"What?" Rock sat back on his heels and looked at her.

For a long time, he stayed like that. When he did move, it was to cover his eyes with his hands and bow his head.

Just as Willow had begun to think he might never want to speak to her again, Rock asked, "Are you saying Stern Greylight can far-talk?"

"No! There weren't any actual words. And do you think I'd accept a contact from him if he could? I don't know what he did... where he was... I can't think..."

To her relief, Rock shifted closer, taking both of her hands in his. "Well he's not here. Nowhere near. The deer would have warned us if he was." His voice was steady, but Willow could sense that he was angry.

"I'm not making it up, though. I'm not imagining what just happened!" She blinked away tears, desperately needing Rock to believe her, however much it upset him to do so.

Still trying to sort out what had just happened, she did her best to explain. "He could be using his talent again. It was definitely a mind-voice. I could recognise it even though I've only ever heard his speaking voice before. But it wasn't like rat-talking or far-talking. It came differently."

She paused, thinking more clearly now that the danger seemed to have passed. "Do you remember when we were in the marshes with Rinnet, sometimes even children heard plants and animals talking to them. But the marsh villagers didn't count that as talent, because they hadn't done it on purpose. I think it was something like that, only not at all as friendly. He wants me to be scared. And to know that he's coming after me. What I couldn't tell was if he even knew those thoughts had actually reached me. He might not know what he just did. Maybe it was an accident."

Without giving any reply to that, Rock got himself dressed. Then he went to sit under the edge of their stone roof, facing out towards the stars. Willow hugged her arms around herself, still shivering inside her own clothes, staring at his silhouette in the darkness. She thought he was digging his fingertips down into the earth among the core-grass tufts.

"A threat." Rock spoke at last, without turning to face her. "Trying to scare you, but not confident enough to wait round for you to reply. He's just so boggiting selfish! He's somehow managed to force his thoughts on you without even realising he's supposed to ask first."

"Oh, I'm scared, all right." Willow heard panic in her own voice. "What if he didn't do it by accident? What if he knows exactly where we are? He's just got no right to speak into my head like that. I didn't even know it was possible!"

When Rock replied, his voice sounded calm, and more controlled than her own. "No, he's got no right to do that. So he wasn't far-talking or rat-talking. And that means it most likely was an accident, and he's got no idea what he just did."

He turned towards Willow, at last. Then he crawled back towards her and wrapped her in his arms. She curled against his chest.

Slowly, her terror started to give way. It was replaced by something harder and more certain.

"So it doesn't change anything," she said. Those were the words she needed to make herself believe. "The Forest hasn't stopped calling. Tomorrow we'll go on. The Forest is important, and Stern Greylight is not."

THIRTY-ONE – ROCK

For just one day, Rock had been fantastically happy. Then Stern Greylight, of all people, had ruined everything. Willow barely slept for the rest of that night, worrying in case Stern's contact came again. It did not, but Rock sat awake, worrying alongside her.

Had he been alone, he knew he would have deliberately fed his own fury at Stern and all the other Harvesters like him. However, Willow was upset enough already. For her sake, Rock made himself think carefully. He tried to consider sensible explanations, instead of just imagining how much he wanted to hurt Stern Greylight in return.

By dawn, Rock was even more convinced that Stern could not be anywhere physically close. If he was, his workers would have been sent to try and capture Willow again. Stern would still want to use her in his plans for the Green, and he would also be out for revenge. Whatever Stern had done the night before must have been all threat and no substance. Perhaps it had only been intended to confuse Willow, rather like the effects of a slimevine or a black beast.

The deer herd began to rustle through nearby branches as soon as the light brightened. Willow sat up.

"So, we go on," she whispered. "Nothing else changes."

Rock stretched out his arms above his head. It was too late to wish for some sleep.

"Yes," he replied, talking to himself as much as to Willow. "We belong to Forest now, and Stern can't do anything to change that. Nor can anyone else. And Forest wants us in that grove, wherever it is."

They were soon on their way once more. Riding the black stag was just as amazing as it had been the day before. Though it was rather more painful, until Rock's limbs started loosening up.

He had always loved deer, of any kind. His very first meeting with a herd of them had been shortly after he had fled the Spice City, when he was only sixteen summers old. That herd had grazed close by his sleeping place, which had been a slab of rock on a lonely hillside. He had woken to find the animals staring at him, and had felt at peace. Now, the low-deer offered placid, reassuring company in a very similar way.

That night, Willow did not suffer any more attacks from Stern Greylight, and Rock slept, at last. Afterwards, as their journey with the deer continued, he dared to hope the danger was past.

The herd were constantly on the alert for nearby predators. Rock suspected their senses reached farther than his own, even when he used his talent. The animals would have warned him if there was any scent of Harvester or stray. Twice, the presence of tree-cats caused the herd to run frantically. Rock and Willow had to lie flat along the backs their mounts to avoid being knocked to the ground by low-hanging branches.

Rock did not ride the stag every day. Sometimes one of the females took over so that the stag could not get overtired. All of the adult females took turns carrying Willow. There were also five young who had been born that spring and were too small to be ridden. These young ones often delighted Rock by playing near him when the herd was at rest. Sometimes a young deer would even butt against him with its head, hoping to encourage him into a game.

While riding, Rock sometimes rat-talked. At night, while his body rested, he occasionally used his mind to far-talk. Willow insisted that news of what Stern had done should be spread as widely as possible. Yet she was afraid to far-talk for herself. She had frightened herself into thinking she might accidentally make some sort of contact with Stern Greylight without meaning to. Rock did not try to argue with her, although he could not believe she was right. He thought she probably needed a chance to get over the shock of the attack.

One morning, Willow discovered a crewel tree growing near the edge of a clearing where the deer had stopped to graze. She hugged the tree for some time, _listening_ to it. The deer seemed fascinated by her reaction. Rock understood from them that plenty of similar trees grew here in very deep forest. The kind of people that carried sharp tools like big claws were very rarely seen in such places. The deer had guessed that was why Willow was so pleased to greet the tree.

When it was time to move on, Rock had a short rat-talk with Merel, trying to let the part-green Rat know how deep into Forest he thought he and Willow had got. Merel could not tell Rock how much further the deer had yet to go.

Then Merel passed on a confusing message from the Green about eating slimevines, or being eaten by them. When Rock asked what it meant, the green Rat claimed not to know. All he could say was that the Green had been insistent. They had wanted him to tell Rock and Willow that there was a slimevine ready, not far from the grove at the heart of the Forest.

Later the same day, Rock and Willow had a three-way rat-talking conversation with Garnet. The wolf woman seemed to have become particularly skilled at rat-talking over long distances, as well as far-talking. In spite of identifying so closely with wolves, Garnet was actually extremely good at understanding other people.

At first, it was difficult to talk with her in the presence of the deer herd. The deer picked up a hint of wolf from what Rock and Willow were doing and became very nervous. Eventually, after some tactful animal talking and gentle demonstrations, Rock managed to persuade the deer that the distant mind-touch of the wolf woman was no danger to them.

Garnet did not think that the contact from Stern had been some kind of accidental thrust that could never be repeated. She would not accept Rock's suggestions that the Harvester might only have been dreaming of Willow, or talking to her in his imagination. The wolf woman thought Stern had made a deliberate attack. She also seemed to think Willow might be able to retaliate, now she knew the flavour of his thoughts as well as his spoken voice.

They asked what Garnet thought the Green's slimevine message meant, but Garnet could not explain it. She promised to let them know if she worked it out.

Long after they had finished rat-talking, Rock and Willow dismounted for a rest at another of the deer herd's grazing places. When sunlight illuminated Willow's face, he watched her carefully. She appeared less anxious than before.

"It's almost like I can talk back to Forest, now," Willow said, having noticed him looking at her. "Not that it hears me, exactly. It's far too big to notice a single person's voice. But I feel like I know how to add something into all the rest. It wasn't like that when we first came here, was it? We were still partly outside it, then."

Rock did not reply aloud. Instead, he used rat-talk to indicate his agreement. Willow had just put words to something he had also been feeling lately.

"Whatever Stern Greylight's up to, and wherever he is, he's still on the outside of Forest," she went on speaking out loud. "That's how I feel, anyway. Even if he gets through to my head again, it doesn't matter. He only sent his own thoughts. He couldn't do anything to affect how I felt about what I heard. That was still up to me. So he couldn't really hurt me."

Rock continued looking at her closely. She appeared genuinely relaxed. Perhaps the Forest had something to do with that.

"Empty threat, then," he said.

"I've decided to ignore it," she agreed. "No reason to get scared unless he's standing right in front of us, is there?"

"No."

It was the conclusion he had already come to on his own account. He had not wanted to say so, in case it sounded like he was not taking her hurt seriously enough.

Later, after telling Willow he was going off for a pee, Rock approached the deer she had ridden that day. He knew that horses got a good sense of their riders' deeper feelings from the grip of muscle against muscle. It was almost impossible to lie through that kind of touch. When he animal talked with the hind, she reassured him that Willow had seemed perfectly content, all day long.

The rest of the journey was pleasant. Summer's warmth now reached through even the deepest shade. Sometimes, while the deer were grazing, Rock climbed into trees for a taste of a breeze and a sight of the sky. Meanwhile, Willow liked to study colonies of plants on the ground. She would trace their intertwined roots, learning how they all depended on one another, and on the fungi living in the soil beneath. The route chosen by the deer also brought her into contact with two more crewel trees and a whole bog full of water pipe plants.

Insects filled the air, even in bad weather. On sunny days, whole clouds of them hovered under breaks in the overhead leaf cover. The deer never travelled in straight lines, but followed routes they all seemed to remember. Even the youngsters knew where they were going. Finally, about a half-moon after their journey had begun, the herd arrived at a very large glade in the centre of a ring of the tallest trees Rock had ever seen.

Having dismounted, Rock took some moments to recognise the place from the mental images previously supplied by the Green. He had not appreciated just how large it was going to be.

"The deer don't need to carry us any further," he said aloud. He was repeating what they had just told him through animal talking, even though Willow had probably heard the same thing from the hind she had been riding.

"No," she agreed. "Time for them to graze until they're all stuffed, and then leave us. Before the rest of the Rats get here." She was standing with one hand resting lightly on the hind's neck.

Rock grinned, "It does look like we got here first," he said, happily. "I told you the deer would be fast."

Together, the two of them then spent a few moments animal talking with all of the herd, thanking them. When the stag led the rest away, Rock accepted the gradual loosening of their presence in his mind. The animals said they would remain in the area for several days. But the space inside the ring of trees was so open, they would have to be very wary of predators.

As the deer faded from Rock's immediate awareness, he felt a sudden inrush of Forest against his talent.

"Oof!" Willow said, obviously having experienced the same. "Were they keeping Forest back, or is it just I'm feeling it stronger now I haven't got the deer to listen to?"

"Don't know. Maybe both," Rock answered her. "Or maybe it's this place. Forest wanted us to come here, after all. Well, we're here now. We'll have to get used to it."

He began to walk slowly around the huge perimeter of the glade. The deer herd were all still grazing nearby, enjoying unusually lush grass and full sunlight on their backs. Rock knew this without needing to animal talk with them. He would not reach for them again with his talent, unless there was an important reason. Instead, he attempted tree speaking, but his skill at it was still nowhere near as strong as Willow's.

"Are the trees all part of one enormous plant? Is that why they're in a ring?" he asked her.

"Yes," she agreed. She stepped close to one of the giant trees, but did not touch it. To do so, she would have needed to clamber through a thick net of vines surrounding the trunk. "It's... I think there was once an even bigger tree in the centre. It must have been incredible! When that tree died, its trunk rotted out. That would be why there's nothing else big growing here, inside the ring of younger trees. The rot would have been in the soil. But the roots of the original tree didn't all die. They grew a whole circle of new trunks. Isn't it wonderful?"

Rock found it strange to be in such an open space. He had got used to being under cover, except when he was high in the upper limbs of a strong tree. When he tried walking inwards, towards the centre of the glade, he felt as vulnerable as a small animal.

"What are these trees called?" he asked Willow. She had begun walking beside him.

"I've seen some before, on the journey," she replied, "but I don't have a name for them. They tell me they only grow in deep forest."

Even the trees' lowest branches were several man-heights above the ground. It would have taken Rock, Willow and at least three other Rats to reach all the way around one of the trunks with their arms outstretched, even assuming they could get inside the sheath of vines.

"So old, to get so big," Rock said aloud, partly expressing what the trees themselves had been telling him through his talent.

Returning to the glade's edges, he found a fallen stick. He used this to poke through last summer's fallen leaves on the ground near his feet. Eventually finding an intact leaf quite far down, he was able to see the delicately toothed edges of a shape rather like his own hand. The leaf was streaked with red. Those on the tree above shone brilliantly green in the sunlight.

Willow had followed him back into the shade. "I haven't been rat-talking for a while. Have you?" he asked her. "Are other Rats close by?"

He had no sense of any Green in the vicinity, although that did not mean for certain that none were there.

"I don't think so. Do you?"

"Not yet, but some of the animal talkers must be close. Garnet, Neamis and the little one are moving from wolf pack to wolf pack, as we know. And you were right to say we can't be the only ones who've been offered a ride."

"Everyone's being guided by Forest in some way," she agreed. "They'll all be here eventually. But it's so loud here. I wouldn't want to cause someone who's new to Forest to get talent-lost."

"Do you think..." Rock struggled to find the right words. "Could this place be hidden from anyone the Forest doesn't trust?"

Willow shrugged. "Hest thought so. But I'm not really sure," she replied. "Forest is so big. It could just be that the middle isn't often visited by anyone not talented. It feels safe here. But that could be because we're such a long way from the harvest."

Taking a few steps out into the open space, once more, Rock looked up into the clear sky.

"It must be close to sunset," he said. "I'm hungry and tired. Let's see what we can find to eat and look for a good place to sleep. Tomorrow we can take a better look around. Then we can rat-talk. And we should check whether there's water, and enough food for everyone."

He thought Willow had probably already guessed he was not too eager to share the wonder of the glade with anyone else just yet. Not until the two of them had explored it for themselves. She probably felt the same.

That evening they ate green spill nuts and orange waspberries, wrapped into little parcels made of the crisp leaves of a kind of vine. Afterwards, they tucked a few spill nuts and the seeds of some waspberries into soil some distance from the existing plants. Then they tied a fallen tendril of the vine higher into its supporting tree, where the light was brighter. Here in the deepest Forest, it seemed more important than ever to do something to thank the plants for providing a meal.

Several of the vine plants had wrapped themselves around the stems of some floon trees. These grew just beyond the ring of much taller trees forming the edge of the glade. The vines clambered from branch to branch of the floon trees, making a droopy kind of roof. Rock and Willow made themselves comfortable on the earthy floor underneath them, where darkness had prevented any growth of other summer plants.

As Rock began sleepily running his hands over Willow's skin, he did not shut the voice of the Forest out of his mind. Then he found himself moving to a rhythm shared with Forest, as well as Willow. And he was certain that neither of them were at any risk of getting forest-lost.

He had occasionally caught fleeting moments of a similar sensation while drumming, or when skin dancing outdoors. Yet this time, the experience was so much clearer, and longer lasting. It was like finally reaching the source of all those smaller echoes he had felt before.

He slept deeply after love-play. He and Willow lay in the heart of Forest, surrounded by predators, prey, life and death. Yet, Rock no longer felt afraid.

At first light, Willow decided she wanted to bathe. So they searched for a stream. Not having Hest's abilities with water, they asked for help from animals and plants. There turned out to be several streams within a short walk of the glade. The best, according to various local animals, was the furthest away. There, Rock was assured, a wide stone platform under overhanging plants gave safe access to the water for quite a long stretch, and the water was clean and fast-flowing, yet shallow.

When Rock and Willow eventually reached the place, they found some Green there. These Green could not have been unaware of two non-green strangers in the area. They had obviously intended to be found.

There were three adults and a child in the water. As far as Rock could judge, they were playing, just as much as washing themselves. When he and Willow approached the stream bank, the Green did not seem at all surprised. They sent a clear message of welcome and continued with their games.

"It's like we've already been accepted," said Willow. "Just like we'd be if we were a pair of deer passing through, or plants grown out of seeds dropped by a bird flying past."

"And we came here to go in the water, let's do it," he replied, letting his own astonishment show in his voice.

Leaving their clothes draped over the lower branches of a bush, they joined the Green. At first, they kept back a respectful distance, but the child soon attempted to splash them. Rock splashed back, and soon all four Green had included the strangers in their game.

The water was sharply cold, but the centre of the stream was not shaded by overhanging trees and the sun was getting hot. After a long, joyful time, the Green let it be known that they must return to shade before the child was sunburned. Rock thought he understood them to say that too much hot sun could shrivel the little plants that grew on Green skin and hair. The plants would recover, but in the meantime, Green children would lack the usual nourishment they got through the plants on their skin. The Green children might then not grow right. Rock was unsure if this last part of the explanation he was getting from the adults was really intended for the benefit of the child who was listening in.

The Green climbed out of the water to rest on the shaded stone platform at the stream's edge. Rock and Willow soon joined them. The Green adults did not seem at all disturbed by the presence of the two Rats. They were a male with a row of brown spots along one arm, a female with bright streaks of hair that were almost yellow when the sun shone on them, and one with very long fur that had wrapped itself into shaggy ropes.

Attempting to _talk_ with the three of them, Rock tried to ask how they felt about the prospect of many more people arriving, soon. As they replied, he was aware of Willow listening in. At first, the Green appeared to laugh. Then Rock thought they said that this place was a meeting point known to all Green. If he understood right, they called the coming gathering _a great reaching out_.

Rock was puzzled. "I thought Green were not really interested in things that happened outside Forest," he said out loud to Willow.

Together, they tried to phrase a question to the Green about this. The reply they received seemed to indicate that everything had begun to change when the rescued Green had come back into Forest. Then, many Green had learned about the experiences of those few who had been captured and then rescued. It had altered their attitude towards the harvest.

Long locks, yellow hair and brown arm-spots explained to Rock and Willow that Green and Forest survived only through being willing to grow when necessary. Then they seemed to describe something like a great reaching out of talent.

"I think they mean some kind of huge group far-talking," Willow said excitedly. "Because some of the Green have recently worked out how they could help the Rats to do such a thing."

Rock was still _hearing_ the Green as well as Willow's comments on what they were saying. His understanding of the Green reinforced her words. It did appear that Green had suspected for a long time that they might communicate with people outside of Forest, with the help of some non-green. But up until now, they had not bothered to try. At least, not until a few Green had met Flight, and helped her just a little, just to see what would happen. And now that Flight's legacy was spreading like wildfire, the Green were telling Rock and Willow that they had some more ideas. This, they said, was what the Forest wanted of them. They began filling Rock's head with suggestions.

"A big... oh, I see," he spoke aloud, trying to fit his thoughts together in a way that made sense. "A massive big far-talking. All of the Forest Rats working together to reach everyone outside Forest?"

"That's it. I see it now," Willow joined in. "They say the more people far-talk together, the stronger it gets. So, the Green think if we Forest Rats can far-talk loud enough, and big enough, we can reach lots and lots of people outside Forest, all at once."

Rock screwed his eyes up, trying to take in the ideas thrown at him by the Green. "Yes," he agreed with Willow. "So, Flight learned to far-talk from one of the Green, on one of the Wanderers' visits to the Forest. But, back then, not many Green understood how much far-talking could be useful for protecting the Forest. Now they do, or Forest does. They want us to help them grow, and now they understand how it can be done."

He had to pause and gasp for air. The three adult Green with them on the stream bank still seemed to be laughing. The child had begun playing with some pebbles.

"Does that mean this is what the voice of the Forest has always been about?" Rock spoke aloud once more, although his question was directed at the Green as much as Willow.

The Green appeared to find it very funny that non-green had taken so long to work out such obvious connections. After they had calmed down, they tried to explain by referring to skin dancing and drumming.

"So it's something very old and also very new, said Willow, who was obviously picking up the same information from the Green as Rock was. "And if we do this big group far-talking, some Green will surround us while we work. Like the friends' circle round a Wanderers' skin dance,"

"And that will need a lot of Green. That glade's big," Rock added. "A lot of other Green are coming here. Or maybe they're here already."

The three Green whose swim they had shared said they were part of a larger group, whose winter home was a day's travel away from the glade. However, there was no present need for the group to keep close to one another, so they were dispersed throughout the Forest's heart. The gathering could not take place until later that summer. Many of the other Rats and Green would be travelling the whole way on foot.

Noon sunshine heated the stone beneath them. The Green's thoughts gently stopped. They had passed on everything they had wanted to say. Rock did not ask them any further questions. He allowed his eyes to close, basking in the warmth of dappled sunfall. Close beside him, Willow soon breathed as if she had fallen asleep already. The Green child was curled in the arms of one of the adults. In the quiet, Rock also slept.

When he woke, the Green had gone, leaving behind the gift of a small pile of nuts arranged on a leaf. Willow was sitting up and nibbling one, thoughtfully.

The two of them spent that afternoon rat-talking. Then, after a night of rest, they began the harder work of far-talking. For the first time since Stern Greylight's attack, Willow agreed to contact Sparkle at the Bees' Nest. She was visibly nervous about doing so, but afterwards seemed very pleased to have managed it.

"No Stern Greylight," she told Rock. "That slime-winder used up all his capple in one splodge."

When Rock asked what that meant, she only laughed and refused to explain. Apparently, it was a marsh saying that Wildcat had once taught her.

Over the next few days, they spent as much time far-talking as they could manage without overtiring themselves. So did every other Forest Rat, although many were on the move and unable to spare a lot of energy. Even so, the message spread, within Forest and beyond it. There was going to be an event involving anyone and everyone who was interested in stopping the harvest. Forest Rats would gather together in the glade at the heart of Forest. Green would surround them on all sides, to help.

As word of this passed out of Forest to the Rats beyond, those Rats started to make plans of their own. News soon travelled back to Rock and Willow about how various groups of people outside Forest also intended gathering together. The Forest Rats tried to make sure that all the outsiders understood how vulnerable far-talking might make them.

Aside from the long, exhausting sessions of far-talking, and an even larger amount of rat-talking, Rock found himself at peace.

Summer warmth swelled the Forest like a slow shout. Flowers budded and sprang open wherever a break in leaf cover allowed sunshine to reach through.

It was not long before other Rats began arriving at the glade. Many of them were only known to Rock and Willow through rat-talking. Two animal talkers arrived astride black deer, just as Rock and Willow had done. Another, very impressively, had ridden a slevit. She was a very small, light young girl, but apparently quite fearless. Rock learned that her name was Tan, and she had come originally from a small fishing village. Hornet was the next to arrive from Tall Trees Side. She had not ridden any animal, but had been guided the whole way by a flock of tirret birds. She said it had been necessary to move very fast in order to keep up with them.

Gradually. as the days passed, the area surrounding the circle of enormous trees became populated. The deer herd who had carried Rock and Willow moved away. Other animals stayed close, but shyly hidden.

In the shelter of the deepest Forest, Rock was almost able to forget all about Stern Greylight's assault on Willow, and the earlier arrival of Caul Driver and Rust Dewsinger.

THIRTY-TWO – HEST

Hest was gradually making his way on foot along the course of a large and powerful stream. Rust Dewsinger and Caul Driver travelled with him. When they asked where he was leading them, he gave vague answers concerning water. In truth he was not leading them anywhere, other than along the path of his investigation of the stream.

The two older men seemed content to go along with him for the time being. They asked many questions about talents, and Hest was pleased to tell them all he knew. Both men learned quickly, and their questions were often very astute.

Caul looked a different man when he was stone listening. His face was still all sharp angles and stretched skin, but his posture softened. He was a patient man, obviously interested in small details.

Rust, on the other hand, was flighty and quick. Hest noticed him tree speaking in sudden, short bursts. Rust would be walking normally one moment, and the next he would freeze with his fingertips against the bark of a tree. Or he would drop to his knees and reach out to the tiny leaves of a plant growing almost out of sight.

As far as Hest could tell, neither of these two new Forest Rats had yet discovered about far-talking. They knew about rat-talk, and had asked Hest to tell them more about it. So far, he had always refused. He planned to wait for them to grow into Forest, then see what might develop. For the moment, the less Rust and Caul knew about rat-talking and far-talking, the easier it would be to keep them unaware of what had happened to Willow and Rock, and all of the other Forest Rats.

Hest wanted very much to go with the other Rats and Green, to the place Forest seemed to want them all to meet together. However, it would not be wise to take Rust and Caul with him until he was certain they could be trusted. From the moment the pair had first appeared at Tall Trees Side, Hest had been reasonably certain they were telling the truth. Yet there was a chance he had been mistaken. So he had decided to spend more time in their company, and keep them away from the other Forest Rats, until he was sure. Then he would explain rat-talk to them and help them try it out. After that, they would soon know about far-talking, and about the grove everyone was heading for. With Forest's help, Hest would then lead them there.

That afternoon, however, Hest intended to allow himself a long session of water reading before sunset. He had already concluded it was perfectly safe for him to read water when the two men were watching, and had done so many times. Rust and Caul usually watched him for a while, in fascination. Then they found ways to amuse themselves with their own talents while they waited for him to finish.

Hest pointed to a dry and comfortable grassy area beside the stream, suggesting to them that they settled there while he worked. A short while later, he sat himself down on the stream bank, dangling his bare feet in the water. He no longer needed to fear getting talent-lost. The water itself seemed to know when to throw him back out into his own body for rest. It did so time and time again. Once he was rested, Hest returned to its flow, sinking deep.

Numerous other beings shared the flow with him. Forest was in the water, as much as the water was in Forest.

The thought of Joren rose to the surface of Hest's mind. Joren had continued in a different direction to Hest's own. It would take a while to get used to that change. Missing Joren was a hurt, always nestled inside Hest's chest, sending lonely thoughts to his head.

He had half been hoping this stream might flow somewhere close to Joren's present location. Hest searched for traces of his lover. But there was no taste of Joren that he could perceive.

Instead, after some time, he thought there was something of Neamis coming to him in the flow. Garnet and Neamis and their Green child had left from Tall Trees Side to meet with some wolves. Perhaps they had recently washed in one of this stream's many tributaries. In in any case, something in the passing of currents and the mixing of tastes, brought a flavour of Neamis, and a sense of alarm.

Hest came back into himself, and immediately began rat-talking. He could see that Caul and Rust were settled not far away, finishing a meal of raw fish and bank snails. As he watched, they began crawling towards a thick hummock of niblet grass, obviously going after some of its tasty underwater roots.

Hest reached first for Neamis. The Wanderer confirmed that he and Garnet had crossed a stream bed that was badly damaged. The wolves in whose company they were travelling had not wanted to stay and investigate, insisting that the whole area smelled dangerous. Garnet had thought she smelled Harvesters, but the place was a long way from the harvest edge. They had therefore assumed the damage must have been caused by a group of strays.

Then Neamis and Hest discussed what all of the Rats had begun calling 'the great far-talking'. Many of them had learned of it from the Green, and the idea was being passed around. When all of the Rats reached the place Forest wanted them to go to, they would try far-talking all at once, as a group, to contact as many people outside of Forest as they could. It was a wild plan, but very exciting. This huge group far-talking would make ripples that would spread and spread. Hest was thrilled by the whole idea, and he hoped to be able to take Rust and Caul with him in time for all three of them to take part.

Neamis, understandably, was less excited than most Rats. He could not forget that Flight would never witness this new development. Hest tried to comfort him by talking of how Flight's work had started ripples while she had been alive. And those ripples had continued moving ever since. Now they were coming ashore, at long last.

When news of what the harvest really meant had reached every tiny village and every street in the Spice City. When people everywhere heard the truth from those who saw the harvest with their own eyes. Then, surely, no one would continue believing in the Harvesters' lies.

Hest felt that Neamis was pleased by his suggestions. But he also knew the Wanderer had begun thinking of Wildcat. Assuming that Neamis probably wanted to be alone with those thoughts, Hest gently ended the conversation. Then he opened himself to some of the general rat-talk going on throughout the Forest.

As he had promised Willow, he did not attempt any rat-talk with her or Rock. He learned from other Rats that Willow had suffered a nasty kind of attack by a talented Harvester. One of the men who had locked her up in a warehouse in the Spice City. No one seemed to have any clear idea of what had happened or what it meant. Hest badly wanted to break his promise and rat-talk to Willow directly, but those men had been linked to Rust and Caul in the past. He would have to be patient until he knew the pair were not involved.

At last, pretending to Rust and Caul that he had been water reading the whole time, Hest ended his rat-talking session and got slowly to his feet. Then he offered to show them how to harvest niblet roots without getting soaked. Both men were now well covered in wet mud, but at least they were not hungry.

After dusk, still a little damp, but comfortable, the three of them rested on a soft mossy patch of grass just above the stream.

Hest asked a question he had been wondering about for some time. "So, I've never been to the Spice City, myself," he said. "I met a travelling harvester once, and I've seen plenty of them from a distance, at the harvest edge. But you two are the first sensible ones I've ever had a chance to talk with. I know you're Rats now, but you still know how it feels to be a Harvester. Tell me, do all the people in the Spice City really believe the talents don't exist? What happened to Rock – coming into a talent without knowing what it was – does that happen often?"

Although it was dark, he did not miss the way Rust turned sideways to glance at Caul before replying.

"I don't think so," Rust said. "But maybe more often than anyone admits to. I think there must be many people with a talent or something like one. But they're so ashamed, they hardly even admit it to themselves. It breaks my heart to think about it, sometimes. Because each and every one of them probably thinks that they're alone – that they're the only one."

Hest drew in a slow breath. "That is heartbreaking," he agreed. "I'm not sorry I've never been to the Spice City."

"It's even worse than that," said Caul Driver. "Much worse. The elders and the most powerful Harvesters know there are people suffering with unexpressed talents. Of course they do. Because that's why so many harvest workers go mad if they stay out in the Forest for too long. It's why the owners try to stay inside the wagons as much as possible. In the end, Forest will speak to anyone with even a little undeveloped talent. Usually, those people don't understand what's happening to them and they can't cope with it at all. So they die from it."

"Oh, great salted tussings!" Hest borrowed one of Joren's curses. "So the harvest workers get forest-lost."

"And what's forest-lost?" asked Rust.

Hest was suddenly ashamed. He had never even considered that not sharing his knowledge honestly with Rust and Caul would put them in danger. Yet, of course it would. The best way for a Rat to avoid getting fried was to learn to rat-talk as soon as possible.

He began to explain, leaving nothing out.

THIRTY-THREE – WILLOW

Standing beside Rock in the centre of the grove, Willow looked up at the sky. She was enjoying the feel of light on her face. Around the edges of the grove, other Rats were now busily settling in. Green were also arriving in increasing numbers, although they usually stayed out of sight.

Far-talkings and rat-talking now went on constantly. Gradually, ideas were being formed into decisions that almost everyone could agree with. Already, it had been decided that the middle of the three longest days would be the best time to attempt a 'great far-talking'.

Willow knew that every village outside of Forest kept some sort of record of daylight and moon rhythms for every season. Such records stretched back for many more summers than anyone living would be able to remember. This was how village elders were able to work out when various seasonal tasks should be done And when to celebrate the longest nights of midwinter and the longest days of summer. She assumed the elders of the Spice City did something similar.

There were no Forest Rat elders. Nor had anyone among the Rats written down any daylight records. Yet, now they could far-talk. Already, they had found out there was actually very little difference between the longest days chosen by most elders. Eventually, everyone agreed to use the Spice City as a point of reference. Most city workers would get extra time off at longest days, so it would be easier for some of them to secretly far-talk.

"I'm almost scared of how different it might be if this all works out," Rock said. He was keeping his face tilted up into the sun. Willow could not see his expression. "We could all know hundreds more people by the end of one day. Will it be like getting to know all the creatures in Forest? Could it drive us mad?"

"No. I'm sure it will be easier than that." Willow spoke with certainty. She had been discussing exactly these kinds of fears with other Rats. "For one thing, I'm sure it's going to have to be a one-way communication, though people are still arguing about that. In my opinion, only the Rats in the grove should speak, and everyone outside of Forest should listen. Most of those listeners won't ever have far-talked before. We only need to demonstrate it to them, to start with. Afterwards, they can all start working things out for themselves."

"Aren't you afraid at all?" Rock asked her.

"Of course I am, but I'm trying not to be," she replied. "I do feel safe here. Don't you? This place feels like the heart of Forest. Some people call it that. I know we can be hurt just as easily here as anywhere. There are still plants that could poison us. And predator animals, and venomous creatures, and blood-sucking insects, and everything. Trees could snap when its windy and fall on us. We can have accidents. break bones, or drown in ponds and streams. And another winter will come after this summer. So I know we should be careful, even here. But there's no harvest. And I feel welcome. Forest wants us here."

"Yes it does," Rock agreed, sounding well satisfied. "That's why the deer were happy to carry us here."

"But the great far-talking is going to put a lot of people in risky situations," Willow said. "I'm not afraid for myself, but I do worry about that."

"We can't refuse to let people join in because it's dangerous," Rock pointed out. "The Bees' Nest plan will work. I'm sure it will."

Willow hoped he was right. They had done several more group far-talkings with Sparkle, Syme and Naesy. Apparently, most of the talented Bees' Nest Rats would make their way across the river in small boats on the first of longest days. They would go to Mudbank, a village on the far side of the Spice River. With some of the mudbankers, they would join in the great far-talking. Goshi, who was silent, and some other volunteers, would remain at the Bees' Nest, hoping to make it look to the Harvesters as though everything was normal there.

"I know I shouldn't be worrying about them, even though I do," she answered Rock. "There's enough to think about right here, isn't there? More Rats are arriving every day. All of them have to eat, and I want them to stay healthy. I have to get to work. I promised to go foraging with the tree speakers from Yellow Lakes this afternoon."

Patting him on the arm, she then added, "Come on. You can help. You're a tree speaker, too. And you need to meet Twisty. His parents were Harvesters. He told me they took him with them on a harvest run when he was only twelve summers old, and it shocked him into his talent."

When she began to walk towards a gap between two of the giant trees that ringed the grove, Willow felt Rock following behind. The three Yellow Lake tree speakers were out beyond the grove's perimeter, gathering useful plants.

The two women, Winnod and Issenel, were both up in the tree tops. They rat-talked greetings as Willow and Rock arrived. Twisty was kneeling on the ground, digging around the roots of a wingloss tree and picking the edible fungi that grew there.

"Ah," the young Rat said, as Willow approached him, "You brought the animal talker. Good. Rock, can you get these mad beetles to stop running up my arms! Tell them I'm only picking half of the food-balls that grow here. I'm leaving them plenty. They can't use them all."

Rock settled himself on the ground straight away. "Right, I'm on to it," he answered.

Leaving the two of them to deal with the food-balls, Willow moved over to a patch of thickly growing niggleseed. The seeds were not yet ripe, but there were seema leaves hiding underneath. Tree speaking to the seema, she asked its permission to take a few leaves from each plant.

Some time later, everyone paused for a rest. Winnod and Issenel climbed down to the ground, each carefully holding a bunch of vine-cup flowers. The flowers were brim-full of scented, sweet rainwater. Willow accepted one from Issenel and sipped the water gratefully. Her back ached from bending to pick seema without stepping on niggleseed.

Issenel and Winnod were older than Twisty. Yet, they had told Willow, all three had been Forest Rats for three winters.

"Willow, have you suffered any more attacks from that city Harvester?" asked Twisty, suddenly.

He meant Stern Greylight. Willow had asked all of the Rats to spread word of what happened, but this was the first time she had discussed it with Twisty.

"I had something like it done to me, once," said the youngster, to Willow's surprise. "I thought you should hear, but it's... well, I didn't feel like rat-talking it."

"Go on," Willow encouraged him.

She looked towards Issenel and Winnod. From the two women's expressions, she guessed they already knew what Twisty wanted to say, and that it was difficult for him. Rock was seated closest to the youngster. Willow could tell he was watching her own face, but he said nothing.

"I told you how I ran away to join the Forest Rats after my parents brought me on a harvest run," Twisty said. He gave a slow sigh, before continuing. "I didn't tell you how I heard my mother calling to me inside my mind. Calling me back. I was very angry and very afraid, so I threw myself into Forest and blocked her out."

"Lucky he wasn't fried," commented Winnod, gruffly.

Willow was eager to hear more, but she could see that Twisty found it very hard to think back to those times.

"Before I completely pushed her away, I felt... I felt her unravelling, I think," he said next.

Willow glanced towards Rock. That sounded very like her sense of him when he had been almost forest-lost.

Rock was now looking intently at Twisty. "I'm sorry," Rock said.

"I know she's likely dead, and I believe she deserved it," replied the boy. "But, afterwards, I thought back... I wonder if she had a talent, but she wouldn't own it. I don't know, but I wanted to tell you, Willow. That's all."

"Thank you," she told him quietly. "It helps. Thank you. I keep wondering if Stern Greylight could somehow use talent to follow me here. Do you think there's any chance of that?"

"You don't even know if the man's still alive, Willow," Twisty said, uncertainly. "He could be forest-lost for all we know. My mother only called to me that one time. That's why I assumed she was dead afterwards."

They all returned to work. As they did so, they talked a little more, but dropped the subject of Stern Greylight, and of Twisty's past. Instead, most of the conversation centred around the great far-talking. It seemed all three of the Yellow Lakes tree speakers were in agreement that those outside Forest should _listen_ , but not _speak_. But that still left the problem of what, exactly, ought to be said.

Issenel argued that the aim of far-talking should be to encourage workers in the Spice City to overthrow their employers. Winnod added the suggestion that villagers should attack travelling Harvesters. Twisty did not agree, though. He said villagers should only be warned of what had happened to others who had believed the lies told them by Harvesters. Willow was pleased to hear Rock argue for Twisty's point of view. Rock insisted that violence would never persuade anyone to act sensibly.

When it grew too dark to pick carefully, and everyone's carrying pouches and baskets were full, they stored all they had gathered in a newly constructed cache. Then Willow and Rock set off in the opposite direction to the Yellow Lakes tree speakers. She began looking for somewhere quiet to sleep. Some distance from the trees of the grove, they passed a group of six young men trying to build themselves a shelter.

Rock laughed. "We passed them earlier, on our way out," he said. "Those men were arguing then, and they're still arguing now. They've hardly done anything except argue. Now its almost dark and they still haven't finished building that shelter!"

"Is that how the far-talking's going to end up?" Willow said, thinking back to the conversation with the Yellow Lakes Rats. "There's only six men working on that shelter and they can't agree. How will all of the Forest Rats at once ever manage it?"

Rock did not reply immediately. They both continued walking. There were some more secluded places further from any of the streams.

"I've just asked some of the Green," he said, eventually. "But they're no help at all. Even though they must have just as many disagreements as non-green."

Using her talent, Willow was able to judge a safe place to take hold of a length of thorny scramble vine. The tips of some of its thorns were poisonous. Holding the vine out of the way for Rock to step through, she said, "If only Wildcat was still alive, I just know she would have shouted at those idiot men until they listened to her."

After dropping the vine behind them both, she then added, "Though I don't know if Wildcat would actually have known the right way to build that shelter, either."

"That's exactly why shouting at them wouldn't work," Rock said. He now led the way across a raised line of wrist tree roots. "If any one person takes charge, they're bound to be wrong some of the time. It doesn't matter who it is. No one can always be right. The Green manage to make group decisions somehow, but I don't understand how they do it. And anyway, I don't think we can be the same."

Willow steadied herself by reaching out to rest her fingertips on his back. The route under the wrist trees was not at all level. "It would need everyone to be equally heard in the first place, for one thing," she said. "How can we ever do that?"

At last, they came to a clump of bushes that looked like a comfortable sleeping place. Dropping the discussion, they set about checking it was free from any dangerous plants or animals before settling in there for the night.

The following morning, they decided to split up for the day. Rock said he wanted to go with Bee to check on the local wolf pack. The wolves were very nervous, with so many strangers in their territory. For the safety of everyone, animal talkers tried to reassure them regularly.

Willow thought she could be of more use if she stayed where she was. In checking over the sleeping place the evening before, she had sensed an abundance of small bread-root plants close by. The colony could spare some roots, but she would need to dig for them. There were about the right amount for one person to dig in a day, so she did not rat-call for help.

While peacefully digging, she did not open her talent except for the odd exchange with the bread-roots. What Twisty had said about his mother, the day before, had been upsetting. For now, Willow was happy to concentrate on food gathering, which was always useful. She needed a rest from thinking about anything more complicated.

When a rustle of leaves and the crunch of a footstep caused her to look up, it was already long past noon. Willow turned around just in time to see Rock come running out from between two wristwood trees. He looked excited, not alarmed.

Willow smiled at him, in greeting. "Are the wolves happy?" she asked.

"Not exactly, but we've promised them everyone will be gone again before the next full moon. The wolves will stay on the edges of their usual hunting grounds until we've all gone. But that's not what I came to tell you, Willow. It was after that – after Bee and I had finished animal talking – we did some far-talking, taking turns. It wasn't a group one, because there was no one else free to keep watch for us."

Sitting back on her heels, Willow prepared to give her full attention to whatever it was he wanted to tell her.

"You're not tired?" she asked.

"I was, but I already had a sleep. So did Bee. I'm all right now. And we worked out how to run the far-talking fairly. We need drums! We were both talking to Syme Deadlander."

Willow shook her head. She should have thought of asking Syme. People trusted him easily. Of course he would have an idea for how to get everyone to work together at the great far-talking.

"Drummers," Rock continued to explain. "Syme's used them before, for keeping big meetings in order. I never saw them do it at the Bees' Nest, but I can certainly imagine it. The drummers all sit in a spiral, rather than a circle, so more people can fit in the same space. Everyone else sits somewhere in between two of the drummers. Then one drummer – or it could be two or three – they walk the whole path of the spiral, from the outside to the centre. People can only far-talk when the walking drummers are beside them. I suppose the drummers won't be able to far-talk, but everyone else – every single person in the grove who wants to say something – gets one chance to speak. We can count the number of people and work out how many beats each one can be allowed."

"The walking drummers keep count," Willow said, understanding what he meant. "And after the right number of beats they move on to the next person. Is that how it works?"

"That's pretty much it, yes," Rock agreed.

"But the whole thing will take a long time," she added. "People will need to go off to pee or stretch their legs."

"Yes. Syme says when he runs meetings this way he ties a tall stick to his back, so he can still use both arms to drum. He ties a flag on the stick so everyone can see where he is. We could use a bunch of bright flowers, some of those white and yellow ones from the tops of cloth-vines would do. Everyone will be able to see when their turn's getting close. If they're not in their place when the walking drummers get to them, they'll miss out."

"Won't the drummers want to far-talk?"

"Probably, but they'll be volunteers. I'll offer, of course."

"You'll be one of the walking drummers."

He grinned again. "That depends if the others will let me. Oh, and there's more. Because, after I woke up I was in touch with some of the Green, too. They seem to think drumming will help this place recover from having so many people living here."

Willow got to her feet, stretching out her aching back. "Off you go then," she instructed. It was obvious he could hardly wait to get started. "Go and find Bee again. He's probably already organising people to help you make drums."

Without needing any more encouragement, Rock did exactly as Willow suggested.

After collecting the last of the bread-roots and storing them, she followed him to the grove. There, she found Rock, Bee and several other Rats already making drums. Quite a few Green were with them, too.

The drums appeared to be made from fallen wood, woven leaves, and reeds. It looked to Willow as though the Green were amused by the Rats' efforts. Quite often, one of the Green would step forward to interrupt what a Rat was doing, repositioning their hands, or demonstrating a slightly different technique.

For the next few days, Willow enjoyed the feeling of peaceful anticipation that seemed to fill the heart of the Forest. The effect of the planned far-talking on the surrounding area seemed rather like that of skin dancing. Only, it was a lot stronger and more wide-ranging, and it was starting to happen well in advance of the actual event.

More and more Forest Rats continued to arrive. Willow heard that Garnet, Neamis and the little one had reached the Forest's heart and were close to the grove, sharing the edges of the wolf pack's territory. Though she did not meet them face to face, Willow kept in touch with them by rat-talking. Neamis and the little one seemed to have taken to spending a lot of time with Irin, while Garnet went hunting, or visiting with wolves.

One day, at long last, Willow caught a rat-shout from Hest. More than a whole moon had passed since they had agreed to stay out of contact. Suddenly, he was letting her know that he was not very far away from the grove. He also conveyed his opinion that Caul Driver and Rust Dewsinger were trustworthy. He had brought them both along with him.

Hest said he would ask for the agreement of a majority of Rats, to include the two ex-harvesters at the great far-talking.

It was not the first time such a request had been made. There had already been a great deal of discussion concerning a small number of strays who had turned up near the grove. These strays claimed to have been called there by Forest, just as the Rats had been. For the time being, the strays had been allowed to live in an area a short distance away. They were being carefully watched over by some of the most fierce of the Rats.

After that first, brief rat-talk with Hest, Willow hurried to find Rock. She did not rat-talk any kind of warning, needing to see from his face how he felt about the news. Quickly passing on Hest's greeting, and his request, she saw Rock's jaw tighten. Laying a hand on the skin of his arm, she felt how his muscles locked hard. He said nothing for a long time.

Finally, he looked directly into her eyes and whispered, "Hest is right."

Willow met his gaze, and waited for him to go on.

"I don't want to believe it." Rock spoke more loudly. "But if Hest has spent all this time testing those two men and he believes they're honest, then I have to believe it, too. I know Hest wouldn't lie about it. And I can't just ignore him because I don't like what he says. That would make me just like my father, wouldn't it?"

Willow swallowed. Looking into Rock's eyes, she tried to let her admiration for him show. No words, or thoughts, could never say enough.

"So, let's tell Hest that," Willow agreed, at last. "And then we should put out a general rat-call so everyone knows about Caul and Rust. Then people can get to know them before it's decided whether to let them join us in the grove at longest days."

When Hest finally appeared, in person, Willow was with Rock in a tiny clearing inside a thicket of thorny shrubs. Rock had been weaving split vine stems into a carrying strap for a small drum. Willow had been gathering vines for him to use. Two Green, highest tree climber and thick dark chest pelt, had laid out a spiral of woven stems on the ground. They were demonstrating some advanced aspect of the technique to Rock.

An enquiring rat-call warned of Hest's distant approach, accompanied by the two ex-Harvesters. As Willow _heard_ it, she knew that Rock had caught it, too.

"The Green think Hest was right to bring Rust and Caul here," Rock told Willow, out loud.

Automatically using her talent to include the two Green in the conversation, she then learned more. Apparently, other Green had _talked_ with the two ex-Harvester men, and found them interesting.

"I suppose," Rock said aloud, in response to what the Green had just conveyed to both of them through talent, "it might be helpful to have two people with as much inside knowledge of the harvest as those two. And Hest has just been going where the flow takes him, as always. It took him to a decision to explain rat-talk and far-talk to them, which the Green think someone should have done earlier."

Willow heard Rock's faint sigh, but could not be sure if that meant he was annoyed with Hest.

"By the way," Rock went on, "Syme Deadlander's solution to the problem of what should be said during the great far-talking is something quite similar."

She had kept watch over Rock while he had far-talked with Syme, the previous evening. Rock had fallen asleep straight afterwards, and they had not yet got round to discussing very much of what he had learned.

"Syme thinks anyone should say whatever they want," he now explained. "So that everyone listening from outside of Forest can trust that all viewpoints are included."

"It'll take a long time to get through everyone, then."

"From sunrise to midday," Rock confirmed. "We've counted up all the people who say they want to speak. And we've tested it out with smaller numbers and multiplied the time it took. Not everyone in the grove will want to say something. Some only want to listen in. A few might get tired before the end and drop out, but that won't matter."

He had continued weaving his drum-strap as they talked. Suddenly looking up, he let the strap fall into his lap.

Willow followed the direction of his gaze, to see Hest step through the thorns. He held both arms outstretched towards her.

Hest's dark skin glowed with health and his eyes shone with pleasure. The soft light of Forest filled his long hair. His arms around Willow's shoulders were as gentle and as strong as ever.

"So, where are Rust and Caul?" she asked.

As Hest replied, she noticed he was closely watching her face. "I'll call them here, if you'll allow it." It was a rather formal way of speaking.

"Go on." said Rock.

It was only a few moments until Rust Dewsinger pushed his way out of the thorny shrubs, closely followed by Caul Driver. Neither showed any surprise at the presence of the two Green.

Both Rust and Caul looked as though they had settled into being Rats. Rust's face was tanned and insect bitten. He had tied his long head-hair up with a woven-grass ribbon, though he did not seem to ever grow chin hair. Caul Driver had attached various woven-grass carrying nets onto his clothing. These held in place a collection of stones, that Willow assumed he must use as tools of some kind.

"You are welcome here," she told the pair, "that is, if you really are proper Rats, now."

"Thank you, Willow," Caul said. "We both want to stop the harvest, I can promise you that."

"On that subject," Hest added, "Has Garnet told you she and Neamis found a damaged stream bed?"

"Yes," Willow agreed. "Though everyone's a bit confused about how important it is."

"I didn't go for a close look, because it seemed more important to get here," Hest went on. "But I tried to reach as far downstream as I could with talent, and there was definitely a muddy mess somewhere. Not the harvest. Something else. Something new."

Hest tried to explain all that he had found out, but Willow had trouble following what he meant. Everything sounded too vague and shifting for her to grasp.

After a fairly short meeting, in which Rock spoke little, and Caul and Rust appeared to be trying hard not to upset anyone, Hest suggested the three of them should go looking for something to eat.

Willow got no chance to meet with Hest again in the days that followed, although she rat-talked with him a lot. He was the only water reader among the Rats, and he was soon more busy than anyone else. To Hest, safe water meant water that flowed well, and was peaceful for all living things, not just drinkers and bathers among the Rats. He took time to study all of the local streams. Whenever he suggested a place good for taking drinking water, or bathing, everyone soon learned to pay attention. News of his suggestions were always shared quickly through rat-talk. People listened when he warned against over-using water sources close to the grove, in case they started to become unsafe.

Through rat-talking with Hest, Willow soon found just how much he was missing Joren, and worrying about him. Many talented Rats had tried to make contact with some of the plants and animals located at the harvest edge. They had asked there for news the silent ones. But, so far, no one had learned anything useful. If the silent Rats were close to the harvest edge, all of the plants and creatures around them were likely to be overwhelmed by the shock of the harvest. In any case, it was not at all easy to tree speak or animal talk over such a distance. And, although stone listeners could extend their talents further, it was rare for a stone to have memories of individual people.

After he had thoroughly investigated all of the local water sources, Hest became very interested in the drum making activities. That meant Willow ended up seeing far less of him than Rock did. Meanwhile, she continued to spent most of her time foraging for food and medicines.

Each evening, Willow usually managed to be with Rock alone. They were always tired. Yet she thought there was definitely a change in him.

"You're happier," she said, one warm night. "Not just because we're away from the harvest."

"I just like the thought of people everywhere sharing the truth of what they know," he answered. "All kinds of things I grew up thinking were true turned out to be deliberate lies. People are never all going to agree about anything. I know that. But disagreeing isn't the same as spreading lies. When people start honestly talking about what they believe, maybe they might start trusting each other more."

"But you're still angry about how you were lied to." She could hear it in his voice. "I hope the far-talking will do what you say. But.. I can't help worrying. What arguments and disagreements will it stir up?"

"Whatever they are, they'll be better than lies," Rock insisted.

She did not contradict him. However uncertain she felt about it, there was no doubt the far-talking was what Forest wanted.

Preparations continued until everyone was too exhausted to do more. Food caches had been made and stocked, so that they would be able to eat for several days without hunting or foraging. Water had been gathered in portable containers made from woven leaves and lined with hard-packed mud. Certain spots were marked for use as privies.

Most of the Green kept themselves further out from the grove than the Rats did. They surrounded the Rats in a loose ring, and all of the talented Rats could sense their presence. Everyone, everywhere, involved in the great far-talking, would be a friend, or friend-of-a friend, of someone inside the grove. And everyone inside the grove was now known to one or more Green.

Willow noticed how the Rats involved in making drums had begun treating Rock as their leader. It had something to do with his involvement with the rescue of the Green, and his links with Syme Deadlander. Yet there was something else as well. He seemed to be growing in confidence.

She also felt there was a more general feeling of hopefulness building up. Everywhere, Rats and Green seemed full of anticipation, as though welcoming the changes they all knew were about to come.

Then, just the morning before the day the great far-talking was due to take place, the Green sent out an urgent warning. It was received by almost all of the Rats at once. Apparently, some of the Green sensed a group of strangers. These people were following the course of the stream where Rats liked to wash their body-coverings. The Green estimated that these strangers would get uncomfortably close to the grove within a day or so.

A great deal of rat-talk and rat-to-Green conversations followed this terrible news. From what Willow could put together from all she _heard_ , many Green were now apologising. They were regretful for not having noticed the strangers earlier. Willow and many other Rats tried to reassure them they were not at fault. The attention of all of the Rats and the Green had been focussed on the grove and the far-talking, leaving themselves in the care of Forest. No one had imagined they might be discovered by anyone uninvited. And not even Hest had picked up any change in the stream's water anywhere near to the grove. Yet, the Green seemed absolutely certain that the approaching strangers were not welcome.

Many Rats immediately wanted to go along the stream for a look. Hest was especially keen. But the Green conveyed a need for caution. Then Merel began rat-talking as a way of helping put across their meaning. Merel explained that the natural response of any Green in such a situation was to hide. If lots of Rats went straight after the strangers, some of them were bound to be seen by the intruders. And, at all costs, the intruders must be kept away from the grove. It would be best if they never found out how many Rats and Green were gathered there.

Having _talked_ with her wolf friends, Garnet then took over from Merel, rat-talking to all of the rats in the grove at once. The wolf woman regretted that the damage to the stream bed noticed by herself and Neamis, and followed up by Hest, must have been caused by these approaching intruders. Neamis should continue caring for the little one, with Irin's help. And Hest's talent was too important for him to leave the grove. Therefore, Garnet was now volunteering to go and take a look at the people the Green had discovered. She would take just three other Rats along with her. They would report back to the whole gathering before any action was taken.

Garnet's proposal seemed to meet general agreement among the Rats, and the Green also seemed to approve. Garnet then asked Hornet, Bee, and Rock to join her, promising that they would all return to the grove as soon as possible.

The whole rat-talked conversation and the initial alarm from the Green had lasted only a few moments. The sense of it left Willow feeling breathless.

When the Green had first called, she had been tucking the edges of a woven grass mat over the dried leaves she had just arranged in a tree cache of supplies. Leaving the cache, she now made her way to the ground, hoping to find Rock in time. She would like to have just one more sight of him before he followed Garnet into danger.

THIRTY-FOUR – ROCK

Rock followed Garnet, crossing and recrossing the winding course of the stream. The strays would take more than twice as long to travel the same distance by walking in the stream bed. Rock was certain the strangers must be strays, because nothing else made sense.

Hornet and Bee came behind Rock, moving just as swiftly and silently. When all four Rats were close to the place the Green had sent them, they spread out. Each of them would climb a different tree. Then they would watch from four, spaced viewpoints above the stream.

Rock selected his tree. Settling himself in the fork of two strong branches, he waited. Holding himself very still, he then watched as the first of the intruders passed almost directly beneath him. There were five walking in advance of the rest. The others were not yet within Rock's view, but Garnet had rat-talked that she could see them.

The smallest of the five below Rock, moved like a youngster of twelve or thirteen summers. The other four were older, but not by much. They all carried heavy sticks and wore belts with knife-sheaths. They were regularly sweeping their sticks through the stream ahead of them as they walked.

It was spike fish season, and not every stretch of bank had a patch of handleaf growing there, to use for an antidote to the fish's venom. There might also be venomous snails and stinging mistweed along the stream bed. Heavy-snakes and river knifetooths often hunted in this area, too. Even so, it looked to Rock as though the young strays were more nervous than they really needed to be.

He soon began to catch sight of the larger group of people following behind the youngsters. All of them wore tattered clothing, patched with animal hides and feathers. Some of their faces were marked with what were probably brands, although it was hard to be certain from such a distance. Garnet had already tried to count them, and estimated there were about thirty.

Bee rat-talked that he was now seeing the first five strays. Hornet still could not see anyone yet. Rock responded with a scornful assessment of the frightened youngsters leading the way. He could not imagine they would last more than a few days longer in deep Forest, acting the way they did. All that bashing at the mud banks with sticks would disturb any dangerous creatures. It would make them aggressive, not scare them away.

Then Garnet replied, from her position downstream of him. She reported that she could see Harvesters coming along the stream behind the strays.

Rock sat up straighter. Then he leaned forward, trying to see further back along the stream. There was a bend in the open water, so that the area downstream was hidden behind a long stretch of lissom bushes. To see what Garnet was describing, he would have to be patient. In the meantime, he rat-talked with Willow and kept open his connection with her. While he allowed it, Willow would know everything that he was experiencing.

Just as Bee was rat-talking to say the last few strays were now passing his position, Rock caught sight of what followed. Leaning out as far as he dared and gazing through the canopy of leaves, he watched carefully.

First came a few harvest workers, dressed typically in dirtied, city-made work clothes, with tool belts and plenty of sheathed knives. Rock sat back and waited for them to progress. Garnet had already warned him what would come next. Three small harvest wagons were being pulled along the stream bed by some extremely miserable horses.

"Fizzing, fizzing mud holes!" Rock could not help whispering aloud. "What are they doing? How did they even make it this far?"

Focussing on Willow, back in the grove, Rock could almost feel the trembling of her body as she learned what he could see.

Then Garnet sent Rock a mental image of what was now taking place underneath her position, beyond the lissom bushes. Someone there was climbing out of a very elaborately decorated wagon and shouting at some harvest workers. Garnet was looking down at the top of the man's head. To her, it just looked like some old harvest run owner who had inexplicably decided to drive the run upstream along a stream bed.

Garnet was thinking that it could have taken them well over a moon to get here from whatever part of the harvest edge they had come from. Their progress certainly explained the disturbance downstream that she and Neamis had noticed earlier.

Through Garnet's eyes, Rock saw how the ends of grey tresses of hair spread out across the shoulders of the Harvester's worn, but expensive, jacket. And Rock's own eyes widened, reacting to what Garnet saw, but did not fully understand. Rock had seen that very same jacket many times before.

He did not even need to glimpse his father's face to be certain it was him. In any case, Garnet's eyes now took in the symbol painted on the side of the elaborate wagon. She could not know that it was the very same design as the brand that Caul Driver had once burned into Willow's arm. Willow had wiped out that mark with a skin dance scar before coming to the Forest.

Somehow, however impossible it ought to have been, Capability Reader had got all the way to the heart of the Forest. Rock's thoughts were still leaking out in rat-talk. Garnet reacted with a mental growl of her own. He could tell that Bee and Hornet were shocked and worried. And Willow was terrified.

Then, before he could think how to comfort her, Willow slipped away from his reach, breaking off their contact. Horrified, Rock instantly stopped far-talking with the other three Rats as well. All of a sudden, he needed to think alone. He could not decide how he felt, let alone what to do.

Turning sideways, he looked away from the stream. The passing of the strays and Harvesters made a lot of noise, but he did not watch. With his attention only on what was in front of his eyes, he studied leaves, twigs and branches, birds, insects, squirrels and tree mice.

It was too late to wish he had specifically asked the Green to watch out for his father, and given them a mental picture of Capability. He ought to have done it as soon as Syme and Rust had warned him Capability was coming.

The Green never _talked_ about things that they did not think important. It would not have occurred to them to tell any of the Rats that some Harvesters had left the harvest edge to come deeper into Forest. Not unless a Rat had asked them about such a thing. The only reason for their alarm now was that these strangers were threatening to disrupt the great far-talking.

Rock had stupidly hoped the Forest would keep him hidden from his father. He should never have forgotten that Harvesters could not hear the Forest. They had no sensitivity to it at all.

Slowly, as the initial shock wore off, his thoughts began to sharpen. It seemed unlikely that Capability knew about the far-talking. To be here now, he must have left the city before the Rats had even begun learning to far-talk. No Harvester would normally even dream of bringing a run this far into deep Forest. It was far too dangerous for them. Rock could not understand why this lot were not already dead. There could only be one reason they had risked the attempt. Capability must have come looking for more Green to capture.

At last, hearing more noise coming from beneath him, Rock looked down once more. The elaborate wagon Garnet had seen was now coming around the bend in the stream, towards his position. There were also a lot of harvest workers on foot. He could not see Capability Reader, who was most likely sitting inside that odd wagon.

Still concerned for Willow, Rock tried to reach for her with rat-talk. To his great relief, she responded. But, after he had passed on to her what he could now see with his own eyes, he thought she was still hiding most of her own reaction from him. Then she told him she was going to question Rust Dewsinger and Caul Driver, right away, in person.

Miserably, Rock asked her to share the information he had just given her with the other Rats, and to stay in touch with Garnet. He knew there was no point in telling her not to worry. Then he let her know that he intended taking a break from all rat-talk while he studied the Harvesters. She claimed to understand, saying that was why she had broken off their contact earlier on, to let him concentrate. He was not sure if he believed her.

After breaking off contact with her once more, he did not look down at the Harvesters. Instead, he stared out among the tree's branches again, for a long time. He needed to work things out, without anyone else's thoughts interrupting him. Long after the sounds of the harvest run had grown distant, Rock stayed in the tree.

When he finally climbed down, he rat-talked first to Garnet, alone. To his surprise, she said she was already at the grove, and so were and Hornet and Bee. Having seen all they needed to, they had apparently judged it safe to leave Rock alone with his own thoughts for as long as he needed.

After thanking Garnet and promising to start back straight away, Rock broke contact with her. During his time alone, he had decided exactly what needed to be done, but he wanted to tell Willow before anyone else.

Setting off towards the grove, he then rat-called to Willow. Astonishingly, her immediate answer came from somewhere nearby.

She had already come looking for him. And she had been fast. The Green had probably helped. As soon as he knew they were very close to one another, Rock began speaking aloud. Though he could not yet see her.

"I'll go out to meet them alone," he called out. "I'll draw them away from here if I can. If not, I'll delay them somehow. I have to stop them reaching the grove until after the far-talking. Hest can easily lead the drumming instead of me."

"No, Rock you don't have to..." Willow stepped out from underneath a fall of slackvines. She came running towards him.

"Yes. I do," he answered, reaching out to pull her close to his chest. "I do have to. Me and no one else." He rested his chin on the top of her head. "The Harvesters have got to be kept away from the grove. The far-talking has to go ahead. It has to. I won't let anyone who's not been invited get near to the grove. Especially not my father. If Capability finds all those Rats... all those Green... I just don't want to think about what he'll want to do."

Willow ducked her head back and looked up at him. "Bee questioned Rust and Caul," she said quietly. "He was pretty rough, but they truly seemed just as shocked at the idea of Capability coming here as anyone else."

She seemed about to add something more, then paused. Her expression suggested Rock would not like what she had been intending to say.

"It doesn't matter, anyway," he pushed on. "This is Forest, not city. No matter how many harvest workers and strays he's got with him, Capability's a long way from home. All I've got to do is keep him away from the grove for a few days, until everyone's slept off the far-talking and headed out into other parts of Forest again."

"Not by yourself, Rock. I'll come with you."

He had both dreaded and hoped that she would say so. After opening his mouth to object, he shut it again without speaking. There was no point. They both knew she had just as much right as he did to confront Capability Reader.

"Right. Somehow, we've just got to keep those Harvesters and strays away from the far-talking," he agreed, eventually. "They can't possibly know about it unless they... unless..."

He could not bring himself to say out loud that Capability's strays might include people with talent. Willow raised her head, looking straight into his eyes. Her expression told him to prepare for more bad news.

"Stern Greylight's with Capability in that wagon," she said.

Rock fought to stop his arms tightening around her shoulders.

"Garnet saw him after you'd cut us out," Willow continued. "She never mentioned it when she was rat-talking, because we've never told her what he looks like. But she came to me as soon as she got back to the grove, and then she mentioned another harvest owner. She saw a taller, heavier man who was shouting at the workers. I knew straight away who it must have been. Then Bee wanted to question Caul and Rust, so I took him to Hest, and I needed to talk with Merel and the Green. But, as soon as I could, I came to find you. The Green showed me all kinds of short cuts."

Rock gave a small smile as he took in the muddied state of her face and arms, and all the twigs and leaves caught in her hair. But, from her face, he could tell there was even worse news to come.

She went on. "Twisty suggested I asked the Green about what Stern Greylight did to me. I never thought to before. But Merel helped, and they did answer my questions. They seem to think Stern was using something like talent, but not the same. Merel thinks he could get forest-lost from it, but so far he's probably just about holding on. He might be even more dangerous than Capability, especially if he ever gets as far as the grove before the Green and the Rats are all gone."

"We can try and stop them," Rock said. "All we can do is try."

"The Green don't seem to think these Harvesters are likely to ever make it out of deep Forest," Willow added, softly, "even if some of the strays manage to survive."

Rock did not answer that. Instead, he straightened his back and said, "We can't waste time going back to the grove. We should go towards the harvest run. Now, straight away."

"Yes." Willow let out a slow sigh. "And everyone else must stay at the grove and carry on with the far-talking as planned. I... it's been wonderful here, at Forest's heart. And I've so looked forward to being together with everyone... to feeling what it's like... such a huge community."

"I know. I just wish..."

"Me too," Willow interrupted him. "But we can't. And we won't be the only ones to miss out. Joren and Spider and the other silent ones have to stay outside of it, too."

She did not need to say that the silent ones were also risking their lives, back at the harvest edge. No one had yet had any news of them. Not even through the Green.

"But why is my father here? It doesn't make any sense," Rock burst out. "Are he and Stern setting up some kind of trap?"

"Garnet wondered the same thing. Bee thinks the whole thing is supposed to be a Rat trap," Willow replied. "But Caul Driver says not. He seems to think Stern Greylight's pretty much gone mad. He thinks Stern and Capability are so desperate to save their reputations in the city, they're putting everything into their plan to capture a lot of Green. Stern's not even one of the city elders, though he'd like to be. There are plenty of bigger Harvesters than him. Caul says the increase in harvest runs this spring is all to do with the elders' plans. Stern and Capability have got nothing to do with that, as far as he knows. He says the elders were very angry about what happened last summer. And the other Harvesters who lent coin to Stern and Capability asked for it back."

Rock did not know if Caul was right about Stern being mad already, or if there was some kind of trap, as Bee feared. But either way, the great far-talking must be allowed to take place, at any cost. It would be some kind of a beginning, even if no one could know what might come after. And Rock badly wanted some things to change.

"So then," he said, squeezing Willow's shoulders and then letting go. "Let's do whatever will keep Capability and Stern away from the far-talking. After that... well, let's see how it all turns out."

Willow leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek. "I'll rat-talk with Hest," she said. "No one else. He'll explain to the others and he won't try to talk us out of it."

"The Harvesters can't hurt you like they did before," Rock said quietly. "You're in Forest, now. Forest and the Green are with you."

"You're right about that," she replied, with anger in her voice. "And they're with you, too. Don't forget that. Whatever happens."

They made their way back towards the Harvesters. After listening, both with talent and without, they judged it safe to climb a tree and take a look.

They chose a round-willow. These grew taller and straighter than other willows, and their leaves were rounded, not long and thin. Yet, just like Willow's name-tree back in Warner, this one grew with its roots anchored deep beneath a rocky stream. The stream was a small tributary of the one through which the Harvesters walked.

"Seeing this tree has reminded me, I was far-talking with Rinnet yesterday," Willow said as they climbed. "And she told me how almost all the villagers support the Rats, now. Except for Druse, of course. There are no Harvesters anywhere near Warner at the moment. Druse and Anna might complain a bit, but they wouldn't actually hurt anyone. In any case, Emmie's going to keep watch for the ones who will be far-talking. She'll be able to mind the babies at the same time. Emmie's acting like a proper silent one, now."

Rock was looking around for a strong branch to sit on. "That's good," he answered. "I'm glad."

It was comforting to know that in Warner, as in many, many other places, people were already preparing to reach out to the Rats in the grove.

They found a safe fork in the round willow's branches. Perching there, Rock could see harvest workers and strays walking along a fairly straight section of the main stream. Some of the workers were pulling handcarts. Those probably carried supplies of food and tools.

Following along behind came the ornate wagon. It was painted red with gold embellishments. It had windows and doors and footplates, and would not have looked out of place in a rich district of the city. Except that it was damaged and filthy, and the horses pulling it were in a terrible state.

"I see Capability's brand on the side," Willow commented. "There's another one next to it, all splashed in mud, look. Like a squashed circle with ears. Is that one Stern Greylight's?"

"It is," Rock confirmed. He had not noticed it when Garnet had visualised the wagon for him. But then the shock of identifying his father had probably blinded him to everything else.

With every turn of its wheels, the wagon stirred up muddy water. The Harvesters' progress would be damaging all kinds of plants, dislodging stones and disturbing many creatures, and churning mud into the water.

"Do you think Caul Driver's right?" asked Willow, speaking very quietly. "Is Stern Greylight mad? What can he and Capability be doing here? What are they planning to do when the stream gets too narrow for the wagon? Or when those poor horses die, which I'm afraid will happen very soon."

Rock had no answers, only more questions. "How have Stern and Capability been able to buy enough supplies to travel so far inside the Forest?" he added. "How do they pay all those workers' wages? And what have they promised those strays?"

Capability Reader was rich, and Stern was richer, but neither of them owned enough coin to fund the whole of this expedition. It was possible that other city Harvesters had contributed to the cost. But that did not fit with what Rust had told Willow about Capability's other friends.

Eventually, the wagon, and all the accompanying strays and Harvesters, moved out of sight beyond a bend in the stream. Yet there was still a great deal of noise. As Rock listened more carefully, it became obvious that the sounds were getting louder instead of quieter.

"Something else is coming after them," he said. "Something I missed before. I stopped looking for a while."

He and Willow climbed to the ground and went a short way downstream. After choosing a perch in a shimmering rime tree, they looked out past its glittering leaves.

"Bouncing bulls' balls!" exclaimed Willow. "Garnet and Bee described this, but I never expected it to be so... nasty-looking. They couldn't work out what it was for."

They could see a very large, heavy machine, constructed of wood and metal. It must have taken all winter for skilled city workers to make it. The machine had mechanical arms with scoops on the end, rather like earth movers. Bundles of netting were tied neatly behind them. The contraption was moving slowly, pulled along the stream bed by another team of pitiful looking horses.

"I didn't do a very good job as a spy, did I?" Rock said, astonished by what he could now see and hear. He had been so upset after seeing Capability through Garnet's eyes, he had completely missed this awful machine.

Then another, identical machine passed by, destroying even more of the bed of the stream. Finally, after that, came three small enclosed wagons without windows. On his first sight of the one in the lead, Rock squeezed his eyelids half shut to look more closely at it. He thought he could just make out rows of air holes in its wooden sides. It was for carrying living creatures, like the crate Willow had once been locked into by Capability Reader.

"Well," he said quietly, after the last of those wagons was past. "Whatever those machines are for, if Stern and Capability bought them, as well as employing all those strays and harvest workers, they must have sold every single thing they owned to raise enough coin."

All of a sudden, Willow started to laugh. As Rock turned to stare at her in surprise, she laughed harder, until she had to cling to the trunk of the tree to stop herself from falling. Shimmering rime leaves tinkled musically around her head.

"I think they've made machines to catch Green," she said between gasps. "But they've wasted all their coins. Those things can never work! I think those diggers at the front are supposed to be for attacking a nest – a greenhome."

"But that's completely crazy," Rock argued. "Capability doesn't know about greenhomes. And nor do the strays. We know that from those slime-lickers that tried to steal the dusk from one. They never knew there were Green inside."

"Those particular strays didn't," Willow answered, having calmed down. "But they knew about the dusk, somehow. What if all their knowledge came from rumours and stories, passed from one group of strays to another? And so they put together some scraps of information to try and make some sense of what was in front of their eyes when they came across the greenhome. And what if some other scraps of information got passed on to people on harvest runs? Maybe Capability and Stern have picked up bits of stories and rumours about the Green, but they don't really know what's true and what isn't. Capability had all kinds of odd ideas when he took me in that warehouse where they put the ones we rescued."

"I suppose it's possible," Rock said. "So you think Stern and my father have had their own machines made to beat the elders to it? Could they have known about whatever it was Caul Driver thought the elders were planning."

"Perhaps," she agreed. "Only they've got it all incredibly wrong. I think they've got the idea that Green have homes that are mounds of earth. But they don't understand the Green hibernate, and nothing lives in the mounds in summer. The Harvesters think the Green sleep in their nests every night!"

Rock could see her point. He smiled, yet he was not completely reassured.

"Unless they plan to stay here until next winter," he suggested.

"No. Then the ground is frozen. So they couldn't use those digging cups."

"Oh."

In the end, he was forced to laugh with her. They changed trees again, so as to catch up with the front of the line of Harvesters going through the water. It was easy to slip alongside the stream far more quickly than the Harvesters were managing to go through it. Sometimes Rock even followed Willow from branch to branch up in the trees, travelling even faster.

When it began to get dark, they had got ahead of the Harvesters. From yet another tree-top perch, they were able to look back downstream at the very front of the line. It was obvious the strays and Harvesters had now come to a stop.

"Should we go and introduce ourselves to my father now?" Rock asked, trying not to sound reluctant.

"If they don't travel at night, there's no point," Willow replied, to his great relief. "We should go to them at first light tomorrow, before they move on again. It would be good if we could keep them here for as long as possible. At least while the far-talking's actually happening tomorrow morning. Longer, if we can, until everyone's left the grove."

Rock did not even try to argue. So the two of them remained where they were, in the branches of another round willow whose furthest roots ran right underneath the stream. By tree speaking with it, Rock was able to learn more about what the strays and harvesters were doing. Willow probably found out even more.

Most of the intruders seemed to be camping on the banks of the stream. Some were lighting fires, burning both deadwood and greenwood together. The greenwood was hacked roughly from living trees.

"Do they have any idea how much damage they're doing?" Willow grumbled. "Do they know how old some of those trees are?"

"It doesn't matter to them. They think the whole Forest will get harvested sooner or later," he replied. "They're not having much fun, though, even if they have got cooked food to look forward to. I don't hear anyone singing, or telling stories."

"You think they're all too unhappy and exhausted?" She leaned forward, peering through the leaves. "Well, it's hardly surprising. I expect most of them are injured or sick. How many do you think there were when they started out? How many have died so far?"

Rock almost felt some sympathy for the people below. Then his thoughts suddenly changed direction.

"Willow, you don't think Stern Greylight can tell you're here, do you?" he asked.

For a few heartbeats she was silent.

"No," she finally replied. "At least, I haven't felt him. Not like that one time."

After another pause, she added, "Don't worry about things we can't predict. What's important is we've got to distract them and stop them moving on."

"So, tomorrow we should head for that silly decorated wagon and talk to whoever's inside."

"Tomorrow."

They climbed down to the ground. Choosing a spot away from the sound of the intruding Harvesters, they lay down.

Rock knew how to enclose his own thoughts and feelings during love-play, to keep them private if anyone should try and rat-talk or far-talk with him. Relaxing, he kept his thoughts open to Willow, but nobody else. Even so, he was sure that for just one moment, the whole vast Forest had filled them both.

The next day, at dawn, he and Willow made their way along the course of the stream while keeping to the undergrowth. They wanted to approach the ornate wagon before it resumed its ridiculous journey up the stream bed. It was parked in the water, although the horses were now tethered on dry land.

Hoping the far-talking had begun as planned, Rock took hold of Willow's hand. He wished he could be drumming in the grove with Hest, instead of making his way down into cold water in order to confront his father.

Once they had entered the stream, he and Willow kept to the thickest undergrowth for as long as possible. When they finally broke cover, it was a while before any of the harvest workers noticed them.

"I think there must have been a lot more of them when they first set out," Rock whispered, echoing the previous evening's conversation. Then he added, "I wonder why they ever agreed to it, no matter how much coin they were offered. And why now? Is it because of what happened in the city last summer?"

"You mean, is it our fault?" Willow said, correctly. She did not answer his question, though.

Rock could not bring himself to say anything more. He looked down at his feet. Wrapped in shoes made of woven leaves, those feet continued stepping on through the water, taking him ever closer to his father.

They were eventually spotted by a couple of harvest workers, some way back from the fancy wagon. At the two workers' shouts, others rushed forward, and Rock and Willow were immediately searched for weapons. Harvest workers took away their belt knives.

None of the workers looked healthy. Most had sores on faces or hands. Many wore dirty looking bandages. They did not speak much. Perhaps none had any strength to spare.

A young man hurried away, obviously going to report to someone else.

"That was Shim Dealer," Willow hissed in Rock's ear. "I never thought I'd see him again. Doesn't look like he's as rich as he thought he'd be."

"I didn't recognise him," Rock said, knowing that would please her.

Rock could clearly remember the light haired young man who had knifed Wildcat on Capability Reader's orders. The harvest worker who had just hastened off had been the right height to be Shim, but his hair and skin had been brown with dirt, and he had walked with an obvious limp.

"He didn't recognise us, either." Willow was smiling. "To him, we're just any old Forest Rats. These workers must think we just came to the stream for water or something, like grazing deer." She was still whispering into Rock's ear. They stood very close together.

"Slime-pisser!" Rock snarled quietly, facing the direction Shim Dealer had gone.

The harvest workers around them were armed with fighting knives. Those closest had unsheathed theirs, in spite of looking barely strong enough to fight. Rock tried to stay relaxed. He let his shoulders drop, held out his empty hands and breathed slowly.

The far-talking should be well and truly underway. Rock passed the time thinking of the other Rats, and what they were now doing.

When Shim returned, he showed no sign of knowing the two Rats the workers had captured.

Rock could not resist a chance to mock him. "How's it going, Shim?" he called out, before Shim could speak first. "How's that brand? Are you on the way to making a fortune in coin, now? Or did my father lie to you about that?"

He thoroughly enjoyed watching Shim's expression change. Hoping Willow was getting as much pleasure from it as he was, Rock saw the exact moment Shim realised who was talking to him.

"Willow?" Shim's voice came out in a strangled croak of surprise. Then he turned to shout at the other workers. "Keep 'em here. Don't hurt 'em, but don't let them get away, whatever you do!"

With that, he turned and ran, despite the limp. He went back towards the decorated wagon again. Only then, did Rock think to wonder what the harvest workers would have been ordered to do if he and Willow had not just turned out to be known to the owners.

A very short time later, Shim Dealer returned once more. Without speaking, he gestured for Rock and Willow to follow him. Rock was pleased to note that Shim's filthy, insect-ravaged face seemed considerably paler than before.

Shim Dealer led the two Rats around to the far side of the decorated wagon. Rock could see that a group of people had come to stand at the foot of its steps. He had prepared himself to face Capability Reader and Stern Greylight. Yet the pair were not alone. Rock stared ahead in astonishment.

At the front of the group stood Rock's father, frowning angrily in a way that was sickeningly familiar. But Rock's mother, Red Dawnweaver, stood just behind Capability. Stern Greylight was beside Red. And next to Stern Greylight stood his two daughters, Semeley and Hinton.

Someone had laid a small platform over the stream bed for them all to stand on. Nevertheless, the twins' pretty slippers were caked in fresh mud. Only Capability and Stern wore leather gaiters and heavy boots.

Red's hair was roughly braided, but Rock thought it was mostly grey. It must be a long time since she last used her black hair dye. Her long dress was damp around the hem. Many of the black beads in her familiar bracelets were now chipped and dirty. Rock focussed his gaze on those bracelets while he tried to take in what was facing him.

"How is this possible? I don't believe it," said Willow, very quietly.

Yet again, Rock found himself considering the cost of preparing to set out on an expedition such as this one. Looking away from his mother's battered bracelets, to study the twins, he noticed they had tied their hair with rough cords instead of soft ribbons. Their supplies of such luxuries must have run out long ago.

"They really must have sold everything to pay for this trip," he whispered back. "Capability's house and Red's stillroom. Stern's warehouse and the taverns. Maybe Red and the girls had nowhere to live if they'd stayed behind. They must think this trip is worth giving up all they had. They think they'll catch a load of Green and make their fortunes. It's the only explanation that makes sense."

Except, of course, that it did not make sense at all. The machines he and Willow had seen further downstream would never catch any Green. And the expedition was so deep into Forest now, there was little chance any of the Harvesters would return to the city. One way or another, they would all die here. It was incredible they had made it this far.

Rock wondered how the strays fitted in.

"What information, and what lies, have these Harvesters and strays been telling each other?" he murmured under his breath.

Capability Reader was now squinting at Rock and Willow. Rock's father looked doubtful, as though he was afraid they were imposters.

Red, on the other hand, had recognised her son immediately. He had seen it in her eyes.

Red was the first to speak. "Jen!" she called out, stepping forward with her arms outstretched. Rock saw no warmth in the gesture.

"Is that really Jen Dawnweaver?" Hinton Greylight gasped. "Oh, just look at him Semeley. And look at the girl he's been with. Father, I'm not sure about this, I'm really not. How did they even know where to find us?"

Rock glared at Hinton, hating her.

Suddenly, he felt Willow tense up against his side. She put her hands to her head and shut her eyes.

"Are you all right?" he asked in a low voice. "What did Stern do to you?"

She gave him a brief, sad smile, backed up with a long, deep gaze from her clear brown eyes.

"He did it on purpose," she replied quietly, "but I don't think he really understands it. It hurt, but after a moment I worked out how to stop him."

" _There are Green near. They helped me,"_ she spoke directly, mind to mind. They had both been practising the technique, and no longer found it so difficult.

" _Ah, then perhaps we have a secret weapon,"_ he replied.

After that brief exchange, they both turned back to face the Harvesters.

Stern Greylight shouted, "That's her! Definitely. That's the girl, Willow."

Rock knew exactly what his father would do next. As Capability moved forward to take hold of Willow's arm and look for her brand, Rock stepped between them.

"You won't touch her again," he told his father. "She has no mark that's any business of yours."

The scar on Willow's arm was not Capability's brand, in any case. Not any longer. It was a skin dance scar, chosen by Willow, herself.

Turning his back on all of the Harvesters, Rock cupped Willow's chin between his hands and looked into her eyes.

He could hear Red giving instructions.

"We should go inside the wagon," she was saying. Her tone implied that they should not be talking in front of the harvest workers.

Rock almost smiled. Long ago, Stern Greylight had suffered nightmares inside his wagon on the earliest of harvest runs. Stern had never guessed that Goshi and the other workers outside that wagon had been listening. Even now, it seemed the owners' wagon was thought private. Yet a worker standing up close could probably hear every word said inside.

"Good idea," Capability said, switching to a milder tone of voice. "There are too many insects out here. Shim, get someone to bring our morning tea."

"Surely we're not inviting Jen and that girl inside with us," Semeley Greylight responded. "Look at them. They're both as filthy as strays. I bet neither of them have washed for moons."

" _That's too much! Doesn't she know anything about Forest at all? In all the time she's been carried up this poor stream, hasn't she learned anything?"_ Willow thought at Rock. He understood that she was now losing her temper.

"I've washed every single morning since I left the Spice City, Semeley Greylight!" Willow shouted out loud. "I've washed in rain, dew, snow, stream water, and very occasionally in carry-pouch water. How do you do it? Does Shim Dealer heat a pan of water on a greenwood camp fire for you every morning?"

" _We're here to keep them distracted!"_ Rock sent Willow a sharp mental reminder. Willow needed to remain clear-headed if they were going to keep these Harvesters distracted for several days.

On the other hand, her speech had just given him an idea. Perhaps they could do even more than just providing a distraction.

" _Right here is where we do our rat-work,"_ he thought at Willow. _"At the same time we're distracting them, we should find out for certain what's going on. How they came here and why. Find out all we can about Harvesters and pass that information on to the Green, so_ _they can tell the Rats, later. Even if... if we never make it away from here... what we can learn here will be shared."_

In return, he sensed her agreement. Perhaps she had understood that part of their task all along.

THIRTY-FIVE – WILLOW

After carefully watching Stern Greylight during her silent conversations with Rock, Willow was reasonably certain the Harvester could not detect what they were doing. Stern's intrusion into her mind had been horrible, but had only lasted for a brief instant. The Green had shown her how to push him out. He had not attacked her like that again.

Willow now followed Rock up the steps of the horribly decorated red wagon. The Harvesters had gone in first. Shim Dealer and some other harvest workers stood around it in the water. They were obviously intending to act as guards.

Looking down as she mounted the steps, Willow could tell the wagon's wheels had already settled into the mud of the stream bed. Perhaps the extra weight of two more people inside would make them sink further. That would certainly help delay the Harvesters' progress towards the grove.

Just as she stepped through the wooden doorway, Willow caught a surprising rat-call from Garnet. The call was also aimed at Rock. The wolf woman let them both know she was not very far away. Garnet offered herself as a hidden witness to all that was about to happen.

Willow quickly rat-talked her thanks, and also her regret that Garnet would miss the great far-talking. Garnet then conveyed another message. She was now with the three Green who had been in contact with Willow, earlier. One with very sleek, evenly coloured fur, one with a brown spot on his forehead, and one with a long scar all down her arm. Apparently, they had shown Garnet the location of a very large slimevine, thinking Willow might like to lure Stern Greylight to it. His warped talent should help the slimevine to attack him.

Raising her head to look at the cramped interior of the strange wagon, Willow glanced at Stern. His expression was hungry. She guessed he was probably considering how best to make use of the two young Rats.

Willow kept her thoughts open to Garnet, allowing the wolf woman to see what she saw. Stern Greylight stood with his back to a richly patterned privacy curtain that hid the far end of the wagon. In front of the curtain, carved racks were fixed to the side walls. These held pots and jars and other things that would not have looked out of place in any city Harvester's household rooms.

Stern's twin daughters had already seated themselves on a bench under one of the wagon's tiny windows. Capability and Red now moved to a similar bench on the opposite wall. That left Willow and Rock surrounded on three sides. They stood in the only clear space, a few steps inside the wagon door.

Briefly closing her eyes, Willow pictured the skeleton she had once seen in a slimevine swamp near the Forest edge, enjoying the thought of Stern Greylight in its place. Both Rock and Garnet picked up on what she was imagining. But Rock was thinking of the Wanderers. In truth, deliberately leading Stern to a slimevine would be murder. Willow quickly turned down Garnet's suggestion.

These Harvesters were unlikely to survive for long, in any case. The presence of this wagon in deep Forest was absurd. Water flowed around its wheels. Red had ordered morning tea. Somewhere out on the stream bank, a worker had made a camp fire out of hundred-, or even thousand-seasons-old green wood. Just to heat the water to make that tea.

"Red," Willow finally managed to speak out loud. "Why are you here? Don't you know how dangerous it is?"

She stared hard at her previous employer. It was amazing that Red and the two Greylight girls had not already died, along with Stern, Capability, Shim, and every one of the strays and harvest workers. They could have caught diseases carried by insect bites, or eaten rotten food, or drunk poisonous water. They could have been attacked by any number of animal predators or poisonous plants. And Stern Greylight could have got himself forest-lost. Yet here they were, with apparently no idea of how lucky they had been so far.

"Of course I do," Red answered. "Hasn't my living partner been coming back from harvest runs, summer after summer, and telling me all about it? When we agreed I should join him, I made sure I was well prepared. We took plenty of supplies from the stillroom before we sold it. And workers test everything we want to eat or drink before we risk it ourselves."

" _I might have known."_ Willow sent the thought to Rock.

Just as in the city, the Harvesters had been able to survive because other people had risked danger in place of them.

Willow looked at the shelves along the walls, trying to read some of the labels on the bottles and jars. There were some medicines, but they were all Red's usual stillroom supplies, devised for use in the Spice City, not the Forest. There were no fresh hand leaves for treating spike fish stings. None of the labels indicated stores of dried fever bark. Willow could not see creeping skittle for bad-water sickness, or any number of other plants she would have thought were essential.

"Life here is hard at the moment," Red continued. "But that will change as the harvest edge advances inwards. Then it will be possible to set up small villages, with fields, and roads to bring in regular supplies."

Syme Deadlander had once told Willow about the very first attempts at growing crops after Forest had been harvested. Syme had been one of those who had tried, and had found that such a thing was impossible. One of the things he did now, as a city Rat, was to tell people about it. Red had obviously not believed him.

"No, Red," Willow said, feeling some compassion for Rock's mother, at last. "You've been lied to about that."

Semeley Greylight let out a sudden squeak. Glancing at the twins, Willow saw they both appeared genuinely worried.

Yet Hinton's eyes were full of hatred at she looked back at Willow. "You're the one who's lying, leafer!" The girl practically snarled. "In a couple of summers we're going to have a house here. Bigger than we had in the city. Our father will build taverns. As soon as he's caught enough green workers, they'll make some black beasts build a new city, right here, and my father will be the first elder. We'll be incredibly rich. Don't worry, Semeley. We won't have to live in this stupid wagon much longer."

Willow had never liked these twins. Yet she could only pity them, now. Hinton seemed to be using lies to keep herself and her sister from complete despair. It would be cruel to argue against her too strongly.

"Why have you come here now, Red," Willow repeated, instead.

"I am here for my son."

Rock groaned aloud.

"You couldn't have known he was here," Willow pointed out.

"I guessed. From the things Naesy and the Bees' Nest crazies didn't say in reply to my perfectly friendly enquiries."

"No. You could have known he was in the Forest, but the Forest is enormous. There's no way you knew he was in this part of it. You were surprised to see us just now. Shim Dealer didn't even recognise us."

Willow was speaking partly for Garnet's benefit, hoping Red might say something that might be useful to the other Rats.

Unfortunately, if Red had intended to answer, she was suddenly interrupted by Stern Greylight.

"Our reasons for being here are not your business," he snapped at Willow. "It's yours that interest me. Are you two looking for work? Have you had enough of playing at being Rats? Do you need coin?"

Rock grasped Willow's hand. She squeezed his fingers.

They had to find a way to delay this whole harvest run by a couple of days, or send it back the way it had come. But they could also gather information for Garnet to pick up.

"What kind of work?" she asked.

"Same as we offered you back in the city," he responded without hesitation. "Same terms, as well. Talk to the Green for us and you could be very rich indeed, very soon."

Inside Willow's head, there was a burst of astonishment from Garnet, and a flicker of exasperation from Rock. There was also some amused puzzlement on the part of the Green.

"Rich? Here? You mean coin?" Rock was laughing now, although he did not sound happy.

"No one can make the Green work for you," Willow told Stern. It seemed only fair to warn them.

"If you don't want to work for us, we'll have to lock you up," said Red Dawnweaver. "And the same goes for my son." There was no hint of concern for Rock in her voice. She made the words sound like a threat against Willow.

Willow looked at her old employer. "I don't use people like you do, Red" she said. "I love your son. I want no harm to come to him. But I can't betray the Green for him. I won't have any part of the harvest of the Forest."

Stern Greylight gave a snort of annoyance. "The Green are not people, so you can't betray them," he snapped.

One of the twins made a small noise, as though in support of her father's pronouncement. This time, Willow did not turn her head to look.

Capability Reader spoke angrily to Rock. "And you, boy..."

Rock immediately let go of Willow's hand. Glancing down, Willow saw he had clenched his fists.

"I won't call you my son..." Capability went on, "unless... Look, I'll offer you one final chance. Forget this hillish girl, this Rat. She'll work for us one way or another, but you don't want to join her in the cages, do you? You can be my son again and you can have one of Stern's daughters as living partner, just as soon as..."

Stern raised a warning hand, cutting off whatever Capability had been going to say.

"No!" After shouting that one word, Rock's face closed down. He stared at his own feet. Willow knew he was so shamed by his father's attitude he could not look up.

Then Garnet began rat-talking, very quickly, backed up by the three Green who were not with the Rats for great the far-talking. Garnet reported that, now Willow and Rock had worked out what those two crazy harvest machines downstream were intended for, a larger number of Green would come that night and destroy them.

The Green with very sleek fur then indicated that some Green had known about the machines and the harvest run for some time. But they had not understood what they saw, and had no idea that some of these people were the same ones who had stolen Green from Forest the previous summer. Now that Garnet had explained, many Green would soon be taking action to put things right.

An instant later, Garnet added another thought. The slimevine was still waiting for prey. And the Green had also sensed a young black beast who roamed some distance away. Willow felt the way Rock shuddered at that. But he still did not speak, or look up towards his father. She received no silent communication from him, either. It seemed that what happened next was up to her.

Taking in a slow breath and allowing it to swell her chest, Willow raised her chin. She looked at each of the Harvesters in turn. It would be very easy to trick them into going to their deaths in the Forest. She need only pretend to agree to their scheme, pretend to care about earning coin. The Harvesters clearly thought they had the upper hand and had no idea how vulnerable they really were.

It now seemed certain they did not know about the great far-talking, either. Stern and Capability had been so intent on following a dream of their own, they would miss what was happening right in front of them. If the far-talking was a success, it would shatter the thick web of lies that Stern Greylight and others like him had so carefully laid out many seasons ago. The very act of far-talking was proof that the talents were real. None of the Harvesters knew how close to disaster they really were.

Remaining silent, Willow tried to think what to do. She could reveal to Red that Capability had once offered her the chance to become his lover, and pretend she was interested in taking up the offer. Or, perhaps it would be better to ask to be given Shim Dealer for a living partner, since Rock was to be given one of the Greylight twins. In either case, it might convince the Harvesters to believe she wished them no harm. Then they might, somehow, be persuaded to follow her towards the slimevine. The plants, the animals and the Green would be able to do the rest.

Rock and Garnet made no comments on her thoughts. They seemed to be waiting for her to come to her own decision. Yet, the Green with a brown spot on her forehead _talked_ to Willow. If asked, the Green woman explained, she and her companions would let themselves be seen, fleetingly. Willow could point them out to Stern Greylight. Then the Green would lure Stern close enough to the slimevine for it to confuse his talent. The vine could make him think there were more Green, just ahead.

The scarred Green woman then _talked_. She claimed to be a black beast trainer, like the one with paired stripes had been. The scarred one thought she might be able to encourage the young black beast to come towards the harvest run. Yet it was not a trained beast. If it came, harvest owners, workers and strays would die together. The intruders would be removed from Forest as if they had never been there.

Willow thought of Neamis in the grove, caring for the little one. He would not want Garnet to take any part in such a terrible act of murder.

Turning to look into Rock's dark brown eyes, Willow made up her mind. She was certainly prepared to die for the Forest if necessary. But she would not deliberately kill another person. Not even a Harvester. Not even when she had once nearly killed one by accident, long ago.

With her thoughts still open to the three nearby Green, Willow remembered the fishing villagers she had met on the way to the Forest. The rescued Green had not chosen to fight them. Instead, they had tried to communicate. They had chosen to be generous, offering those fishing villagers information that changed their opinions.

"This is why we're here. This is why the Forest calls us," Willow said. Ignoring the Harvesters altogether, she was speaking to Rock out loud, and to Garnet and the three Green in her thoughts.

Quickly, Willow then addressed the Harvesters. "Wild Forest will kill you if you stay here," she warned, offering them truth. "You can't overcome it. It's too big and too powerful. Everyone who's ever been on a harvest run knows how Forest kills. How harvest workers get sick or injured. And how some never make it back to the city."

"That will change," Red interrupted. "There are new plans for the harvest."

Stern Greylight cleared his throat, warningly. Capability reached out a hand to touch Red's sleeve.

Red ignored them both. "There's no reason to be so secretive about it," she said. "I know what's going on. That's why I agreed to sell the house and the stillroom to raise money for this expedition. City elders and top Harvesters have been trading with strays for seasons, because some of the strays who've learned to live here in Forest are even better at harvesting than the Harvesters are. The strays remain here in winter, so they've had more practice, I suppose. Of course it made sense for Capability to seek out strays for information about the Green. And also, so I'm told, there are city elders working at a plan to use the help of strays to colonise the Forest properly. Soon there will be more roads, and villages, and this area will have started to turn into a civilised place to live."

"Those are just dreams, Red," Willow shook her head. "The strays who've traded with Harvesters have probably been lying to them. Especially about the Green. And the areas that have been harvested so far are tiny compared to the whole Forest. In time, with summers and summers of harvest runs, I suppose you could destroy it all. So all the Forest would be dead and carried back to the Spice City and turned into coin. But no one could ever put it back again. And everyone needs the Forest to be alive. Don't you understand? The harvest causes droughts, floods, plagues, famines. By destroying Forest, you send the effects out over everyone else, everywhere."

She watched the five Harvesters closely. It was impossible to tell how carefully they listened to her words. Perhaps they were just waiting to find out how easy it would be to control her.

"Your ideas for capturing the Green will never work," she continued anyway. "Forget them. Turn back. If you go now, you might just get to the Forest edge before winter. Otherwise, you'll have to face up to what the Forest offers. You can waste your lives fighting it if you like. But you won't win. I don't know why you even want so much coin. Rock and I choose differently."

In her head, for Rock alone, she added, _"All Forest wants of us is that we share in it, and with it."_

" _I know,"_ he agreed.

From the three nearby Green, Willow learned that many other Green would arrive silently that night. They would then destroy this harvest run completely. Picking up Willow's uncertainty about the violence, they tried to explain. None of the previous runs, all along the harvest edges, had ever attacked Green specifically. Any local Green had simply kept themselves well hidden and watched the activities of Harvesters from a distance. But then, last summer, some Green had been captured and lost.

As soon as the captured Green had returned, all of the wider community of Green had learned about what had happened to them. After that, many Green had begun to think differently about the harvest. Many intended to do what they could to put a stop to it. Sleek-fur explained to Willow that this was like a disease among tree roots. Only rarely would any Green bother to try and alter such a thing, but when they did, it was best to cut out and remove all of the diseased wood. The Green were not like peaceful Wanderers, they reminded Willow. They were wild. If it became necessary, they would fight like predator animals.

Willow found herself remembering how Capability had once pushed her into the crate of the captured Green in Stern Greylight's city warehouse. He and the guards had been careful never to go too close to the Green shut up inside. Garnet then added the thought that perhaps that was why those strays at the greenhome in winter had so suddenly killed the little one's parents. They might have acted mainly out of fear.

Willow urgently tried to insist to sleek-fur that she did not want all the strays and harvest workers to be brutally killed by Green. They were all people, just like the Rats, and just like the Green, themselves. Sleek-fur and the other two Green listened to her feelings. They even seemed to be considering alternatives, as though they wanted to come up with a solution she could agree to.

Then Capability Reader stood up and stepped forward, distracting Willow from all she had learned at the speed of thought. Taking hold of Rock by the shoulder with one hand, and Willow with the other, Capability forced them to turn around. He pushed them both towards the wagon door.

His grasp on Willow's shoulder was bruising, yet she did not struggle. Moments later, she and Rock were roughly shoved down both wagon steps. Standing on the wooden platform in the stream, Willow looked back, once. Red, Stern, and Stern's daughters, had already come to watch from the doorway.

"Jen!" Red called. "You don't have to go with her."

Rock reached towards Willow. Capability instantly shoved his way between them, slapping at Rock's arm with some force.

"Both of you go in the cages," Capability snarled. "Leafers, both of you! I didn't want to believe you, Stern, the first time you said my son could help us with the Green. But I see it now. He's one of them. A Rat. A leafer."

Willow saw Stern Greylight signal to four harvest workers. Shim Dealer was with them, but Stern yelled and waved him away. As Shim left, Willow noticed the way he twitched one shoulder as though it ached. She wondered if his brand had healed badly, or if it was yet another forest injury.

The other four harvest workers came forward quickly. Willow did not try to get away as two women each took hold of one of her arms, hauling her apart from Capability and Rock. As two men held onto Rock, Capability then stepped back and regarded them all.

Deliberately ignoring Capability, Willow twisted her neck to look round at Stern. Something of his expression made her think he was gloating, as though this encounter was going exactly the way he had always expected it to.

" _Stern's enjoying this,"_ Willow sent at Rock. He gave no answer. A moment later, she felt him shut off all mental contact. Panicked, she struggled against the grip of her two guards. The women started dragging Willow downstream. She guessed they would take her all the way to one of the windowless wagons.

Willow managed to twist sideways and get another glimpse of Rock. Just at that moment, she saw Capability Reader step up and punch his son in the stomach. The two workers held Rock upright.

"Monster!" Willow screamed. "What are you doing? He's your own son!"

Willow's guards pulled at her arms. Squirming against them, she tried to see if Red was still watching. It was impossible to look round far enough. Instead, she kept her head turned towards Rock for as long as possible. Capability took hold of his son's shoulders. The male guards suddenly let go of Rock, allowing Capability to push him down into the flowing water.

Willow stumbled, pulled at on either side by the two women hustling her away. As they lifted her back onto her feet, she managed to get one last look behind. She saw Rock stand up in the water. He appeared to be staring out into the trees. Afterwards, he looked in Willow's direction and his thoughts reached out to her once again.

Both Rock and Garnet spoke to Willow without using words. At the same time, she could feel the Forest talking, too. All of them were urging her to flee, as soon as she got a chance.

Then sleek-fur _talked_ , saying that, as neither Willow or Rock wanted to lure the harvest owners towards death by slimevine, the Green had come up with an alternative plan. If Willow and Rock could escape, surely the harvest run would stop moving up the stream, while the Harvesters tried to recapture them.

At Garnet's suggestion, Willow pretended to stagger through the water that dragged at her feet. Meanwhile, aided by the Green, she opened out her awareness through both her talents.

A stag waited nearby, just behind two tall drost trees on the bank. A black beast was roaming its territory in the far distance. Willow could tell exactly which tree hid Garnet. She could almost pick up the hugely quiet minds of stones on the stream bed under her feet. It was as though all of her immediate surroundings waited, ready to act.

Reaching out in her head to Rock, she knew that he, too, was feeling around with his talents. He was sick with pain, so much that her own breath caught in sympathy. Willow tried her best to let her own, less injured, sensations flow towards him, hoping it might help.

Then, together with Garnet and the Green, they made a gentle network. It was like the one the captured Green had once created at the Wanderers' camp on the outskirts of the city. Yet, this time, Willow herself helped keep the connections in place. Feeling almost joyful, she opened all of her mind to the Forest. With luck, she would be able to get out of the water and away from the Harvesters. If not, her mind would never be trapped, whatever happened to her body.

When Rock reached for the black beast's mind, Willow was aware of what he did. At the same time, she talked with the slimevine. Other forest creatures also accepted the call and lent their strength. There would be no murder. No deliberate violence. Willow and Rock prevented that, because they were a part of the network and their own choices were woven in with it. The aim was only to help the two of them escape.

The slimevine showed Willow how to throw false impressions towards Stern Greylight's mind. Together, they pictured the forest ahead of his wagons' trail as filled with huge threatening shapes that hinted of all kinds of terrible dangers. The trick would not bring the slimevine any food. Yet, it still offered its help. It did so because harvest killed slimevines and Willow's enemies were Harvesters.

A witherbird called out its alarm cry. Even harvest workers knew what that meant. Hearing it, Willow's two guards stopped trying to force her to walk forward. Instead, they looked along the stream banks, trying to see what had frightened the bird. Just then, a lot of shouting caused the guards to look behind them. They had slightly loosed their hold on Willow, already. She was able to turn her head enough to see Stern Greylight roaring and waving his arms.

While her guards were still uncertain, Willow tore free of them. Running back towards Stern, she was then able to see his face. He looked shocked, then momentarily confused, and finally very, very scared. His daughters appeared to be speaking to him, but he only stared straight ahead. Willow thought he was trembling.

Lifting her voice, Willow shouted as loud as she could. "I told you before!" she yelled. "None of your plans can possibly work. Forest will kill you all. Go home! Get out of Forest before it's too late!"

Then, as she had known they would, animals moved out from under cover, all along the stream bank. A tree bear clambered down to walk on all fours close to the stream's edge. Its long, sharp claws cut a trail through the mud. A pair of knife-toothed varnels nattered to one another as they ran into the water and headed towards the nearest harvest workers' legs. Memikits snapped their jaws, running around with a family of foxes. A whole wolf pack slunk out from the undergrowth in a long line, looking ready to hunt, but ignoring the smaller animals. Finally, came the black beast's roar, from somewhere just close enough to be frightening.

Willow smiled to herself. Strays and harvest workers were already forming up into nervous groups. People were unsheathing knives and lifting spears or clubs. Yet they were prevented from getting near enough to the animals to attack them. A lot of plants had suddenly become obstacles. Leaves dropped onto heads and flapped against faces. Twigs gave way, making sharp cracking noises that startled people into turning round. Branches and fallen wood made some very strange and alarming sounds as insects moved purposefully inside them.

Her two guards barely tried to stop her escaping. Their eyes were wide and they clearly wanted to use their arms to protect themselves. Turning away from them, Willow hurried after Rock and Capability. She soon discovered that Rock was also free of his guards, who were nowhere to be seen. Capability stood apart from his son, looking around at the confusion elsewhere.

Rock leant forward with both hands on his knees, but at least he was standing. Willow ran to him, studying his face. Since he did not seem about to fall over, she then turned towards Capability Reader.

"Scared?" she asked him. "You should be. Forest can get rid of you, or me or Rock, or anyone. Not even on purpose, usually. Forest just is. Such things just happen because that's what life is like. You can't take control of it, no matter how much you want to. Forest won't do what you tell it, and neither will I."

Nearby, a group of harvest workers cowered as a wolf bared its teeth at them and growled.

Rock was breathing hard, but he spoke to Willow out loud. "The deer that brought us to the grove are not far away," he said, holding his arms around his chest. "The stag is coming. Be ready."

Willow had laid her hand on his shoulder. She wanted to check how badly he was hurt, but there was no time. She was aware of the stag. It told her it enjoyed running with thunder in its hooves. The smell of wolf was strong, but the wolves were occupied with other prey.

Within five heartbeats, the stag had reached the spot where Rock and Willow stood. Capability Reader had not yet moved, or said a word. If the harvest workers nearby had been less surprised, they might have attacked the stag with their knives and sticks, but they were all looking around in confusion and fear. Some of them were still being held back by a wolf.

Willow held her clasped hands under Rock's foot to help him mount. Then he reached down and pulled her up behind him, in spite of the pain the movement must have caused. Moments later, the stag had carried them out of the stream and was racing though trees. A kind of mental applause from Garnet rang out inside Willow's head.

More shouting still reached Willow's ears from the Harvesters. She thought that perhaps Capability and Stern might have recovered from their surprise and started ordering a chase, already. The more harvest workers and strays that came after them, the longer the harvest run might be delayed on its journey. It would also mean there were fewer left to fight back against any Green who attacked in the night.

At Rock's request, the stag ran in the opposite direction to the grove, following narrow trails it knew well. Finally, it came to a stop, a very long way from the stream and the harvest run. Willow slid from its back until her feet landed on earth. Then she helped Rock, trying to hold him solidly so he did not hit the ground with a jolt. The stag left them immediately, heading off to rejoin his herd. He promised to run around the areas close to the stream banks later, leaving false trails to tempt the Harvesters into pointless searching.

Garnet said she would stay and watch what happened to the harvest run. Then she left Willow's thoughts alone.

Willow tried to examine the insides of her own mind to see if she might have become forest-lost without realising it. The network of animals and plants and Green and Forest that had filled her head was easing slowly, as each of its smaller components dropped out, one by one. It was the right time for her to do the same, but she was afraid. Then she felt Rock let go.

He spoke to her out loud, instead. "Don't think about it too hard," he said. "Just do it. Come back into yourself. Come on."

Shocked to realise that she was now sitting on the ground with her back propped against a homewood trunk, Willow took a long, slow breath. Then, deliberately opening her eyes wide and focussing on a leafy twig that hung down in front of her nose, she let go of her talent. Listening with her ears, she focussed on the small sounds of the forest. Wind stirred twigs and branches and leaves, making them creak and rustle. Unseen creatures moved through moss and bark and tumbled leafmould. There was a sweet smell of flowering binsey mixed with the bitterness of homewood bark.

"It's quiet," Rock said, "for now."

The deep Forest was never silent, but Willow knew exactly what he meant. They were alone with the plants, the forest animals and all the other creatures. There was no evidence of the harvest at all, nor any other people nearby. No sound of harvest machinery. No shouts from harvest workers. No anger and no greed. Only the ordinary sounds of creatures going about their everyday lives, and the noises made by flowing water, wind through trees, fallen leaves, and moss giving way under Rock's feet as he shifted his balance.

Rock arched his back, holding onto the sides of his hips.

"Will you let me take a look? Make sure Capability didn't do serious damage?" she asked.

"Can you be sure?"

"Well, no. Not absolutely. But I could try that talent-healing the Wanderers and Garnet use. I've been working at it over the winter and I understand it a bit, I think."

"Later," Rock warned. "Rest your talent for a while."

She lowered her head, indicating that she agreed. "You too, then. You need to rest and take care for a while. We'll soon know if there's something bad developing from what he did to you. But let me look you over with my eyes, at least. I can check for anything that's already obvious. Then we'll have to wait and see."

"Oh," Rock replied. "Well, I guess now's a good time and this is a good place to wait. Garnet and the Forest seem to have done enough to keep the Harvesters away for a bit. I hope the far-talking's going well. Hest's a very good drummer, he'll be fine."

And everyone at the grove would be safer if the Harvesters came quickly in pursuit. Willow did not say so out loud, but she knew it was what they were both thinking.

THIRTY-SIX – HEST

Walking slowly, Hest was following the huge spiral made by all the seated people in the grove. He was drumming, keeping up a regular, steady beat. Three more drummers walked behind him, and twenty more sat among the other Rats in the spiral. Small drums hung from woven-leaf straps around the walking drummers' necks. For sticks, they used animal bones, polished and hardened with plant resins. The Green had supervised the construction of many drums over the previous half-moon. Then they had picked out the very best of them for the great far-talking.

The far-talking opened up so many possibilities. So many other people elsewhere would be involved. There were other Rats, and there were people who had not even known the Rats existed. There were city people, villagers, and Wanderers.

There were even a few strays seated among the Rats in the grove. Hest had known for some time that there were strays claiming to have been called here by Forest. As soon as they had approached, news had been shared through rat-talk. But, at the time, Hest had been too occupied with watching over Rust Dewsinger and Caul Driver to pay much attention to the discussions that had followed.

Strays were known to have lived in Forest for many seasons. Some might have survived here for longer than any Rat had done. Not all strays burned green wood and treated Forest like the Harvesters did. Some of them were talented. A few of the Green had confirmed that they could communicate with some strays. This had surprised the Rats, including Merel. It had turned out to be one of those bits of information the Green had never before thought important enough to share.

Eventually, Merel had rat-talked the best explanation he could come up with. He had suggested that, to the Green, all Rats, strays and Harvesters alike, were non-green. The Green only distinguished between them according to their actions, or their abilities to _listen_. Other differences did not generally interest them.

Hest had been rather bewildered by the whole idea of strays,to start with. Until Rust Dewsinger and Caul Driver had helped him to understand. The two men had explained how anyone without paid work in the Spice City might find themselves having to steal food or starve. But, if the elders' people caught them stealing, they would get branded. After that, even if they did have coin to pay for food, most food-sellers would refuse to serve them. Caul and Rust had both argued for allowing the talented strays into the grove.

Hest had been horrified to realise how easily such a thing might have happened to Willow, Rock or Wildcat when they were in the city. Branding was not done in the hill villages. If a villager behaved so badly they could not be tolerated, they might be chased away, for the safety of everyone else. But, anyone without food or fresh water would always be given what they needed, unless the whole village had nothing left to share.

As he walked the spiral of seated Rats in the grove, Hest paid no attention to which of them were also strays. Never losing count of the drum beats, he paused by each person he came to. A long, twisted stick of old wristwood was strapped to his back by a complicated harness of ropevines. On top of the stick, Wood Wasp had fixed a big bunch of white and yellow flowers.

If the person Hest faced shook their head or waved their hands, he moved on to the next. But if a person wished to _speak_ , Hest would smile and nod his head as the signal for them to begin. After exactly forty-two beats, he would nod to them again and move on, whether they had finished _speaking_ , or not. The system worked well. Most people had already taken part in one of the practice runs, and most had learned to fit their speeches into the time allowed.

It had been agreed that when Hest got tired, he would unstrap the wristwood stick and pass it to one of the other three walking drummers. He was not tired yet. The rhythm had become natural to his arms. It was easy to let his thoughts expand elsewhere, even while steadily counting the beat. Even though he was also _hearing_ the far-talking.

Everyone had assumed the drummers would have to hold themselves back from the far-talking in order to keep count. But the practices they had carried out over the last couple of days had shown that would not be necessary. Somehow, just as the Green had suggested it might be, the drumming had turned out to be part of the structure of the far-talking. So Hest could hear all that was said by the far-talkers in the grove.

He also had a sense of all of the listeners outside of Forest. It was as though they were distant clusters of shadows. He perceived them in groups, rather than as individuals. There might be thousands of people taking part, in all kinds of places.

If Hest had been able to distinguish individual people among the listeners, he was certain there would be many he could name. Perhaps Kelp, the fishing villager, was there. And some of the river readers, and others who had helped Hest with his talent. Perhaps Nettle, Hest's father, had joined in. And Rinnet, Willow's mother, and Old Jesty. Perhaps more of the younger villagers of Warner had come into talents by now, and would be gathered together with the village elders, at Minty's.

Far-talking did not seem to be like Forest-hearing. There had been no reports of anyone becoming lost in far-talking, or fried. The worst effect seemed to be having to sleep afterwards. Hest could not sense any fear from the mass of people now linked together. There was only wonderment, on an enormous scale. He wished Rock and Willow could have felt it too, wherever they were.

One by one, as Hest and his drummers walked the spiral, Forest Rats far-talked the thoughts they most wanted to share. Some people simply begged for the harvest to stop. Others spoke out on behalf of particular plants or animals who suffered at the hands of the harvesters. Some told of the consequences of harvest in their home villages. There had been floods, plagues, droughts and landslips. Everywhere, people with talents had worked out the links between such disasters and the Harvesters' thoughtless activities in the distant Forest.

None of this information had been previously unknown. But, until now, it had not been widely known, either. Now it could be. All of it.

Hest stepped up to Rust Dewsinger, who shook his head, turning down the chance to speak. The next person seated in the spiral was Caul Driver. During the past few days, Caul had frequently spoken about exactly why he had switched sides from Harvester to Rat. He had also joined Bee in a far-talking with Syme Deadlander. So, when Caul returned Hest's gaze and nodded, Hest was not surprised.

Caul Driver had already told the Forest Rats how he believed the elders of the Spice City planned to brand everyone there who was not rich in coin. It would mean everyone in the city would become either an owner of people, or someone who was owned.

" _What it means to be a worker is about to change,"_ Caul far-talked, filling his _speaking_ with much passion. _"Instead of getting paid in coin for the work they do, all city workers will be given a few of their owner's coins to spend on themselves. If they do not please their owners, they will have no coin. If their owners do not feed them, they will starve. The brandings will put an end to all choice about who to work for. On one day, last winter, I stood guard at the door of a meeting of city elders and I heard them discuss this. I used to be a city elders' man. But not anymore. I once branded youngsters for the Harvester, Capability Reader. But I knew what I was doing was wrong. And it has to stop. And I now believe that the Harvest is also wrong. All of it... all of it, has got to stop."_

Hest had had come to trust Caul Driver, whatever the man might have done in the past. Caul's words were very powerful. If the listening city workers and city Rats believed him, too, the effects might be impressive. In all the excitement of learning about far-talking, it was going to be important to keep everyone's attention focussed on stopping the harvest of the Forest.

In the days to come, whole communities would discuss what was now being _heard_. More and more people would soon practise until they, too, could far-talk. That would take time, just as it had taken the Tall Trees Rats a whole season for just one of them to have any success. But, it would not be very long until far-talking became as common as the other talents. Perhaps more so. It was about to become a lot more difficult to hide many secrets. The consequences of that for the Harvesters and the Spice City elders would be interesting.

The great far-talking lasted until noon. Hest came to stand beside Bee, who was seated at the very centre of the spiral, in the middle of the grove. When it was his turn to _talk_ , Bee simply thanked everyone for taking part and then let his presence merge back into the whole. His forty-eight beats was not yet ended, so that time was used to let all the listeners settle. On the very last beat, Bee led everyone in a huge, shared shout of pride and excitement.

Afterwards, Hest slowed the drumming gradually, feeling the support of the Green slowly easing away as he did so. When he finally brought the rhythm to a stop, all the other drummers in the grove stopped at precisely the same moment.

Then Hest discovered that his legs would no longer hold him up. He was on the ground before he could stop himself, feeling his arm muscles start to cramp up, as well. Looking up, he saw that Bee was standing over him, staring down.

"Fool," the older man said quietly. He reached to undo the ropevine holding the stick to Hest's back. "You were supposed to hand over to someone else and take a rest, but you never did, did you? You've been leading that rhythm all morning."

Hest knew he was grinning up at Bee, and he could not think of any other reply. In his head, he could hear the beat. He was still counting, unable to stop himself. Someone lifted his chin and tipped water into his mouth. He swallowed, closed his eyes, and waited for his limbs to stop trembling.

It was good to lie back on the ground, once Bee had removed the stick and its harness. Then Hest must have drifted asleep. When he woke up, the light was a lot lower. It was probably late afternoon.

Sitting up and looking about, Hest could see Rats gathered into small groups all over the place. Some ate and many talked, but it was obvious that others were sleeping, as Hest had done. Getting quickly to his feet, in spite of the screaming pain in his arms and shoulders, he set off to look for the three drummers who had walked the spiral behind him. Several people called out their thanks to him as he crossed the grove. Most of the people he could see who were awake, looked excited and energised.

Two of the drummers were lovers, named Ashimbit and Tolen. A tree speaker and a stone listener, both originally from hill villages, like Hest and Willow. The couple were sitting close to the trunk of one of the huge grove trees. They were with a group of other Rats, whom they seemed to know well. When Hest stepped onto the raised ground under the tree's buttress roots, the two drummers both looked round and noticed him.

"I'm so sorry," he said, lifting his arms out to his sides. "I forgot... I just got so caught up in the beat, I never passed it over to you. Can you forgive me?"

The other Rats under the tree stopped talking. Ashimbit was frowning. Instead of speaking, she began to rearrange the crown of woven plants decorating her thick brown hair. Hest wondered if he had already lost two new friends through being thoughtless.

"We were there with you, Hest," said Tolen. "We felt it. We knew how caught up you were. Don't you think we would have let you know if we wanted to take over?"

Tolen was long limbed and pale skinned. She stretched her legs all the way out across the ground and raised her arms to stretch them above her head.

"The Green made us drummers into... kind-of, one thing, don't you think?" she said, turning to look at Ashimbit.

"And we went with you, stupid!" Ashimbit addressed Hest. "You were part of the drumming and so were we. No one led. You just had the stick. We worked together. That's why you forgot, because there was no need to remember. What we'd originally planned on wasn't necessary."

Hest bowed his head towards her, smiling. "And you understood that better than me," he agreed. "Thanks."

"We've got food here," said Tolen. "Come and eat. You need it."

After a while, they were joined by Dart of Tall Trees Side. She was the third of the drummers who had worked with Hest. They ate and rested, listening in on other Rats' excited chatter, for the rest of that evening.

Those who had taken part in the spiral in the grove remained nearby throughout the following day. Everyone needed rest, and also wanted to discuss what had happened and what should come next. Hest was exhausted, too. Yet he spent much of his time rat-talking with Garnet, and worrying about Willow and Rock.

All of the Rats now knew that Hest's two friends had gone to do what they could to keep an approaching harvest run from reaching the grove. They also knew that the run's owners were the very same Harvesters who had taken Green into the Spice city the previous summer. Yet, no one could yet attempt to help Willow and Rock, for fear of drawing attention to the existence of the large gathering in the grove.

Many of the Green had already begun to disperse into the wider Forest. But many had also stayed, making it clear to the Rats they would help protect the grove if anyone uninvited came too close.

As soon as he felt strong enough, Hest rat-talked with Willow. To his delight, she was still free, and with Rock. The Harvesters had not been able to recapture them. Willow was overjoyed to know how well the far-talking had gone. But she did not want to keep rat-talking for long, in case Stern Greylight could accidentally feel what she was doing and work out where she was. So Hest did not rat-talk with Rock. Instead, he contacted Garnet, asking her to say more about what had happened to his friends, and what else they had found out about the harvest run.

Garnet told him all about how Stern and Capability seemed to have been tricked out of all their coin by some devious strays. She said the Harvesters had thought they were going to capture Green using hideous machines. Now that the Green understood this, they had destroyed the machines. They had also broken all of the other wagons and carts and set free all of the horses who had been forced to pull them.

Those horses were unlikely to survive for long in wild forest. Garnet thought some of them might even end up as food for the same Green who had released them. If not, they would only get preyed on by other creatures, such as Garnet's wolf friends. And Garnet did not think any of the Harvesters would live very much longer, either. Not unless they changed into Rats, like Caul Driver and Rust Dewsinger had done. Hest thought that unlikely. The Harvesters, and the strays who were with them, had all been moving against the current for far too long.

Rust and Caul themselves were new to rat talking, so Hest made time to visit them in person. He already knew they had been aware that Capability Reader was searching at the harvest edge for Willow and Rock. Yet, they told him they had not had any idea he intended coming all the way into deep Forest.

"They're the very last people I could ever imagine going deeper than the harvest edge," Rust said.

Caul Driver shook his head slowly, several times. "Perhaps we ought to have guessed, Rust," he said. "Stern Greylight and Capability Reader are determined to ignore what they'd rather not see. That's how they came so far, I reckon. Ignorance. They'd never turn back once they'd made up their minds. However many workers died, they'd keep going. However many warnings their work leaders gave them not to trust the strays. If they'd made up their minds, they'd let strays lead them on. They think they can alter what's true just by saying they don't believe in it."

"Rust," Hest began carefully. "You heard from Garnet that Red is in Forest, too?"

"Oh yes," Rust answered, "but you know what, Hest? I don't feel anything. I'm not even worried if she's already dead, or if she's suffering. Funny that, I know. But maybe it's having got to know the Green. And knowing what Red was a party to. It took me so long to realise that Red Dawnweaver does exactly what Caul just said. She really thinks that if she calls something the truth, then it is true. Do you know, she never, ever told me that she loved me, and yet she was forever telling me that I loved her. And, like a stupid dusk dreamer, I believed it for quite a while."

Once the elation following the far-talking started to wear off, Hest was sleepy again. Having finished talking to Rust and Caul, he found himself a private place to be alone. Then his thoughts began to settle around Joren.

Hest's former lover remained at the harvest edge, and could be dead, for all anyone knew. No Green, or talented Rats remained anywhere close to the area. The water in streams and rivers there was much too distant for Hest to read it for clues.

He had understood Joren's wish to remain at the harvest edge. Joren had known where he could make the most difference. That had always been what he had wanted. He and Hest had both known they would not always be riding the same currents.

As it had turned out, Hest had played an important role in the success of the great far talking. He would never have chosen to miss that. Coming into the grove with the other Rats had been the right thing to do. But that did not mean he had stopped loving Joren.

There would be some very powerful ripples of effect spreading out from the great far-talking, for very a long time to come. The Forest and the Forest Rats had started something, just as Hest and Joren had done in the smaller pool of their own lives, simply by falling in love.

Once started, ripples might not be easily controlled as they continued on. Sometimes ripples bumped against solid objects, or sometimes they met interference from other ripples. Then, they might change shape. And not even a water reader could predict what that new shape might turn out to be.

THIRTY-SEVEN – ROCK

"I'm not sure they're going to turn round and head back towards the harvest edge, whether they catch us or not," Rock said, feeling hopeless.

He was seated next to Willow on the lowest large branch of a floon tree. For the past night and day, the two of them had not stopped in any one place for very long. They had been advised by Garnet and the Green each time a harvest worker was getting close to finding them. So far, it seemed that the plan to delay the Harvesters' progress upstream had worked. The Green had trashed the wagons, so the Harvesters could only continue on foot, in any case. Probably a lot of the strays had fled. But plenty of harvest workers remained, and the grove was not yet deserted. Many of the Forest Rats still needed to recover their strength before leaving.

Garnet, and then Hest, had reported that the great far-talking had been a success. That had been an enormous relief, and a triumph. If no other rat-work was possible for the whole summer, that one great event should be enough to send out ripples of change. The Forest Rats must continue in their opposition to the Harvesters in whatever ways remained to them, but what had been done already would now have effects far into the future.

"We should probably go back to the stream and find out what Stern and Capability are up to now," Rock went on, swinging his feet forward and back in the air. "Or at lest help Garnet to track them. I never really thought we'd still be free after the far-talking. I thought the only way of distracting them was to let them capture us. But, since we are free, we've got do what we can to make certain they don't find any of the Green or the other Rats. No one's more qualified than us to understand those Harvesters. It's our responsibility to keep them busy for a while longer."

"But we don't have to do it out of any kind of guilt, though, Rock. Not because you're Capability's son. You're not to blame for that," Willow replied, surprising him.

"No. I mean because we set the Green free in the city."

"We didn't act alone."

"But no one else who was involved is here right now."

Willow sighed, loudly. "No," she agreed.

Rock suddenly recognised that he was feeling disappointed. He had been hoping she would think of a reason they could just leave the Harvesters to the Forest. It would surely kill them soon, in any case. In spite of everything he had just said, all he really wanted was to stay alone with Willow, in the Forest's heart.

"I still won't deliberately lead them to the slimevine or the black beast," she went on. "It would be murder."

"You don't want Stern and Capability to get killed?"

"No. Actually, I don't. I agree with Neamis and the Wanderers. That kind of fighting would make us no better than Harvesters. It's not any kind of solution, just killing people you don't agree with. Even when you hate them. And even when it would be so easy, and they're likely to die soon anyway."

Rock was secretly very pleased to hear this. He had not been certain that Willow fully shared his own belief in non-violence.

"You know the Wanderer saying about how they fight, though?" he asked her.

"Yes. Old Timber told me once, when I asked him what Wanderers could do if they were attacked by people with knives."

"They can die," Rock repeated the saying. "Sometimes that's the only non-violent choice."

"Sometimes," she agreed, "although not always."

After a pause, she went on. "I think – I like to think – that might have been the choice Wildcat made. I wonder if, maybe, in the end, she decided not to kill the beast, even though she could have done."

"I know." Rock had sometimes wondered similar things. "Or maybe, in the end, choosing was impossible. Maybe she just let go, leaving it to Forest or the beast to decide for her."

"Now she's gone. We can't ask her." Willow let out a long sigh, then continued. "But we're not at the point of having to choose our own deaths right now. I'm going to rat-talk Garnet and ask if she knows exactly where most of the Harvesters are and what they're doing."

Rock joined her in a rat-conversation with Garnet. The wolf woman reported that there were Harvesters and strays setting up camp, but they did not seem to be making plans to move on, just yet. The silly wagon, the ridiculous machines and all the supply carts, remained in the stream bed, but they were just piles of broken timber. The Green had destroyed them, and set free all the tethered horses and bullocks. Garnet could see strays and harvest workers under the trees along either side of the stream. They appeared to be making cook fires and spreading out blankets.

Garnet was very worried about those fires, some of which were in places where the earth would be very dry. No rain had fallen on this part of the Forest since Rock and Willow had first arrived with the deer herd. That was more than a whole moon past. The harvest workers seemed to have no idea of the risk of one of their camp fires getting out of control.

Rock wondered if the long spell of dry weather explained the strays' choice of route. If the stream had been in full flow, those wagons and carts and machines could never have come so far from the harvest edge. That made him even more certain that neither Harvesters nor strays had ever really known where they were going.

After letting go of the link to Garnet, Willow was quiet for a while. Rock enjoyed several peaceful moments just staring out through the drooping floon leaves. Then Willow turned around to face him.

"Thinking like a Wanderer is one thing," she said. "Acting like one is much harder. But I'd like to try and find out more about this harvest run. While we're keeping the Harvesters distracted from the grove, we should be collecting information at the same time. And we might not have to go any closer to the stream, or let them catch us."

"What are you planning to do?" Rock asked. He could not imagine what she was getting at.

"Garnet and the Green with the scar keep reminding me of something they think I could try," she replied. "They seem to think that because Stern was able to get into my mind without consent, it could work the other way round. They say that because it's a weapon, it can be turned against the one who used it first. I did it a bit, when we escaped from the Harvesters yesterday. It was the slimevine who showed me how."

Rock saw her give an exaggerated shudder. Nevertheless, she continued, "It's offered to help me try again, even if Stern doesn't end up falling in its slime as its reward."

"Could you take me into Stern's mind with you, like I took you, that first time we first did a group far-talking with the Bees' Nest?" Rock asked. He did not like to think of her going there alone.

Willow grabbed hold of both his arms. Her eyes were wide and bright.

"I think so. We could do it right now," she agreed. "We know the Harvesters are staying put for tonight, at least."

"Wait," Rock said, unsure. "It's only another kind of violence, to go into someone's mind uninvited. If you're right about weapons, then you might only be teaching Stern how to get back at you. Can you do it without him knowing what's happening to him?"

She let her hands drop away from his arms.

In the same moment, Rock thought he caught a hint of a smell of wood smoke. His talent also told him that many animals were becoming unusually nervous.

"We might not have the time to think this through properly," he admitted. "I can smell smoke already. One of those fires could get out of control at any moment and whoever's in its way would have to run, then. If you really think you can listen inside Stern Greylight's head, this could be the best chance we'll get to try it. But would it be right?"

"No, I don't expect it would," Willow replied. "But it's kinder than luring them to a slimevine. Maybe there's a very small chance of one or two of those Harvesters getting out of Forest alive, eventually. I won't take that chance away from them. And I do want to find out as much as possible about what's behind all this. Stern's mind might tell me. It's my choice. You don't have to join me if you don't want to."

"I think I do," he said slowly, taking hold of her hand.

Together, they dropped to the ground, landing easily on their feet. The floon branch had not been all that high. Firstly, they sent out a general rat-shout of warning about the fires. Then they rat-talked with Garnet to explain what they planned. Garnet agreed to stay separate, but to continue to witness.

The three Green who had helped Rock and Willow to speak secretly in front of the Harvesters were not far away. They had kept within talent reach constantly, since the day of the great far-talking. Now, they offered to add their strength to the attack on Stern Greylight.

Choosing a comfortable spot between the roots of a different tree, Rock and Willow both settled their backs against its trunk. As Willow then let her mind reach out towards Stern's, the Green helped Rock to follow her.

Seeing out from inside Willow's thoughts, Rock was soon looking through Stern's eyes. He saw Capability and Red, sitting on a recently cut log opposite Stern. Through Stern's ears, Rock then heard Capability's voice. Rock's father was talking about the time he had left the harvest edge and got lost in the trees for a while. Stern had heard the story so many times before, he was not paying a lot of attention. Capability was describing how he had caught a distant glimpse of two Green, and one of them had been riding on a black beast.

Rock began to _hear_ some of Stern's thoughts and feelings. The man's strongest emotion seemed to be fury, because all of the wagons were broken and the Green-capturing machines were completely destroyed. Not only that, the damage had been done right under the noses of all the workers paid to stand guard. Well, they had not actually been paid yet. They would be, just as soon as Stern had caught and sold a haul of Green, as the strays had promised.

Most of the strays had run away, spooked by that strange moment when all those animals had come out into the stream. Well, surely by now Stern's harvest workers had picked up enough from them to carry on searching for Green by themselves. Stern had been far more annoyed that those animals' behaviour had given the two talented young'uns a chance to get away. Just when he'd finally been about to get his hands on them again, after all this time. They would have been more useful for gathering Green than Capability and his tedious memories.

Stern had believed Capability's story the first time he heard it. That was what had first got Stern thinking about starting a trade in Green. And the only way to set that up had been through strays. Stern and Capability had already paid the ones on this new project half of the coin they had demanded in payment. The rest was being kept secretly in the city. Stern had hoped their greed would be enough to keep them interested. He had been wrong about that, but at least now he could spend that coin when he went back.

Rock lost track of the man's angry thoughts for a moment, as Stern's eyes focussed on Red and Capability. Stern clearly disliked them both. Capability was barely a friend, more of a tool for Stern to use for earning coin. Red was an attractive associate, in front of whom Stern enjoyed showing off. To Rock's disgust, it seemed Stern's feelings for his own daughters were much the same.

Willow immediately pushed deeper, searching for Stern's fears and insecurities. She was quiet and subtle. Rock rode with her, supported with the extra strength of the three Green. With luck, Stern would not recognise anything unusual was happening at all. Willow did not seem to want to harm Stern, in spite of all he had done to her. But she was trying to find out anything that might be used to make him leave the heart of the Forest. He might never make it out, but the other Harvesters would probably follow him. And, if they all started going in the right direction straight away, there was a small chance that a few of them might eventually get home.

Stern Greylight had shoved away his deepest worries under layers and layers of hardened ruthlessness. Willow dug them out. The man was dishonest to the core. He had lied, cheated, exploited those he pretended to like, and even murdered those he had hated badly enough. All out of fear. On the first ever harvest run, when young Syme and Goshi had been part of the workforce, Stern Greylight had heard the voice of Forest. He had known, then, that all of his dreams of replacing Forest with fields and roads and buildings, were impossible. Since that time, all he had ever done had been an attempt to prove to himself that the voice of the Forest had been wrong.

Forest now spoke to Rock and to Willow. It reinforced what they were learning. Forest remembered trying to warn Stern that what he and the other Harvesters wanted to do would only end in disaster for everyone. The Harvesters' destruction of Forest had caused other, deeper changes, bringing problems to other places, far distant from the harvest.

Willow dug out Stern's memories. Rock learned how Forest's cry of warning had terrified Stern and some of the other talented Harvesters. In their fear, those people had decided to refuse to believe in the talents. That had been preferable to understanding the truth of what the Forest tried to tell them.

At that time, Stern had also been greatly in debt to a group of city elders. These elders had expected to make a lot of coin from the new practice of harvesting the Forest. The coin was badly needed, since the price of importing spices from over the sea had been rising dramatically, season by season.

Stern had worked ceaselessly to try and hide the existence of the talents. Summer by summer, he, and others like him, had increased the harvest of the Forest. He paid off his debts and became rich, and he was proud of that. There was talk he might soon become one of the city elders, himself.

Then Capability had given him ideas about harvesting Green. And, last summer, the failure of that plan had taken Stern into debt, once again.

Willow had closed in on what had begun to send Stern Greylight mad. Rock understood that the man no longer thought very clearly about anything, beyond a series of impossible hopes. Instead of learning from what Willow, Goshi, the city Rats, and the Wanderers, had all tried tell him, that previous summer, Stern had clung to his own ideas. He had continued to scheme with Capability and Red, hoping to recapture the Green as well as Willow and Rock. When that had not worked, he had come up with a plan he imagined was better.

Rock understood that Stern Greylight believed in a vision in which he triumphantly presented a large collection of obedient, healthy Green to the city elders. When Goshi had revealed to the city news-sheet writers that Stern Greylight was talented, Stern must have been horrified. He seemed to have reacted by coming up with a plan to impress the elders enough to make up for the disaster. Now, he thought he had paid strays to lead him towards a greenhome. Yet, the image in his mind was not really like any such structure that actually existed.

When Willow found a memory of the mind-shout that Stern had used to terrify her, she did not retreat from it. Rock perceived it to have happened as a result of the man's anger and frustration. Stern's inability to find her, or any other talented youngster who might take her place, had threatened to overturn all his crazy plans. When Stern's angry mind-shout had unexpectedly connected, it had caught him by surprise. He had tried to do it again, repeatedly, but it had not worked. Then he had suddenly found himself face to face with Willow, in person. He had not planned to attack her just then, but had done it automatically.

Rock guessed that Stern's talent had been hidden and supressed for so long that he no longer had any control over it. If Stern had chosen to pay attention to his own talent, he could have communicated with the Green for himself. There would never have been any need for Willow, or anyone else, to interpret for him. Then he would have known from the beginning that the Green truly were people, and perhaps he would never have tried to catch any.

Instead, Stern had ended up on this hopeless quest. Rock did not think the strays could ever have expected it to succeed. Perhaps they had only been waiting for most of the harvest workers to die off, before abandoning the rest. The strays must have been carrying the coins Stern had already paid them. If they had tried to leave too soon, Stern would have sent his workers after them to get those coins all back again.

Before Rock could decide whether Stern ought to be told how he had been tricked, Willow's searching of the man's thoughts was abruptly interrupted.

" _Fire!"_ came Garnet's rat-shout.

There was an echoing sense of alarm in Stern Greylight's mind. But Rock did not think Stern had picked up the rat-shout. More likely, the harvest workers had called out an alarm at the same time as Garnet.

Rock expected Willow to withdraw her touch from Stern's mind, but she did not. Instead, she spoke quietly, out loud, to Rock alone.

"We can use this," she said. "Can you go out and keep watch for me? To check the fire's not getting too close to us. I've thought of a way to get Stern and the others to head back the way they came."

Without giving Rock a chance to refuse, she then pushed him straight out of her head.

He came back to himself quickly. Instantly, he knew that there was smoke flowing towards them. Using his talent to check on the animals and plants nearby, he found that many were now moving away from a fire that was spreading, fast. The Green reinforced that information, but assured him they knew how to keep themselves out of danger.

Rock looked down at Willow. She was slumped against the tree trunk and appeared unconscious. He considered trying to force her to come out back of her talent. But he did not think all of the animals around them were running away. The Green warned him that fire was unpredictable. It might rise or die, come here, or pass elsewhere. Staying put could be better than running in the wrong direction.

Rock lifted Willow into his arms. As he did so, a family of squirrels attracted his attention. The squirrels told him where there was a deep, gravel-floored pool under the overhang of a waterberry bush. The snake-like roots of the waterberry had grown their way into the boggy edges of the pool, allowing the plant's leaves to remain thick and lush throughout the dry season. The plant agreed with the squirrels that only an exceedingly hot fire would ignite those cool leaves.

After carrying Willow there, Rock lay beside her.

He then began to rat-talk with Garnet. Between them, they tried to judge the wind direction and the path the fire might take. At the same time, Garnet was attempting to make her way closer to Rock's position.

She was not all that far away when she rat-shouted to warn him that she would have to turn back. The fire was already too strong for the wolf woman to cross.

THIRTY-EIGHT – WILLOW

Stern Greylight was coughing. Willow felt the way he was spitting out the taste of thick smoke.

The Green with the scar, the one with sleek fur, and the one with a brown spot on her forehead, were all adding their strength to Willow's own. They never directed her actions, but once they understood what she wanted to do, they helped to make it happen. So did the slimevine. Willow thought it lured prey by causing some kind of expansion of the prey's own thoughts. The plant now aiding her was able to seek out Stern Greylight's wants and needs, then confuse his awareness of what was real and what was imaginary.

It was impossible to reach inside his mind without joining with Forest at the same time. Willow did not think she could ever have attempted using her talent in this way six moons ago, when she had been new to the Forest. If she had tried, it would probably have got her forest-lost almost instantly. Then her body would soon have died. Luckily, since then, Forest had taught her a great deal more about using her own talent safely.

Forest spoke to Willow. Not in any kind of words, but in feelings, and echoes of experience. Only a very small area was on fire. Some plants and animals would die as the flames spread. Many more would remain completely unharmed. Forest sensed the wind moving above the tree tops, and knew it had recently changed direction. There was water in the air.

Rain would come soon, putting out the fire. New life would begin to sprout, almost straight away. Fire-damaged forest was absolutely nothing at all like deadland. To Forest, fire was a kind of decomposition, like the rotting of fallen leaves, or of creatures caught in a slimevine pool. But fire was much, much faster and more violent than anything else.

Willow was not sure in which direction the fire would travel, or how much danger she was in. Yet, she had not finished with Stern Greylight. However much she pushed and probed at his thoughts, he seemed trapped in the one vision he had chosen. His madness had left him unable to learn, unable to change his mind about anything. She did not think he was forest-lost, so much as lost in his own mind. He did have talent, but the only way he had tried to use it was in a kind of mental violence.

The slimevine repeated its offer to capture and eat any Harvester that Willow could lead within close range of its lie-cloud. The Green then reminded her there was a black beast that could be called on, if Willow allowed it. But there might be another way to make Stern lead all of his companions back towards the harvest edge.

In Willow's home village, it had been said that no one could tree speak if they were not willing to _listen_ to the what plants wanted to tell them. Stern Greylight had refused to hear Forest. He had even tried to enter Willow's own mind without _hearing_ her rejection of him. Now she had done the same to him, except that he was too self-centred to even guess that she was there. She wondered if Forest could use her as a way of _speaking_ to him again, and if she could direct the way he interpreted what he _heard_.

The slimevine caught her idea, and agreed to help. So did the Green.

Very carefully and precisely, she sent towards Stern all her own imaginings from when Bee had first described a forest fire. The roar of enormous flames. The terrible blackness of choking smoke. Charred leaves, still hot, falling onto Stern's unprotected head. Runnels of flame shooting along the ground when grass caught fire. Walls of flame when the closely growing thickets caught. Fire everywhere, as far ahead along the stream bed road as Stern Greylight could visualise.

Forest added a weight of terror and foreboding, drawn from the fears of all the small creatures caught in the real fire at that very moment. The slimevine continued to blur Stern Greylight's perception of what was and was not real.

Then Willow encouraged Stern to think that the only place of safety was far downstream. There was no need to think up a sensible reason, she just tried to project towards him a strong feeling that it must be the case. By making Stern feel that he wanted to be downstream, she hoped he would then make up reasons of his own to convince himself he was correct.

Her goal was to get him to order all the remaining Harvesters to go back the way they had come. No Harvesters should be here at the Forest's heart. She was well aware that Red and the silly Greylight twins, and all of the rest of the Harvesters, were unlikely to make it out. But they ought to be offered the chance. They had all entered the deep Forest without any understanding of what that truly meant.

The Green pulled at Willow's attention, reminding her that there was still a real fire taking place. She must hurry, and most of her task was already complete. Now that the great far-talking had set up the means, all the information Willow had pulled from Stern's mind could be spread far and wide. All kinds of people, everywhere, could easily be told the truth behind the lies he had been spreading.

That mention of the real fire reminded Willow that she had not checked where it was, before building an imaginary one in Stern's mind. Then, as she was starting to worry about sending the Harvesters into greater danger by accident, Rock suddenly burst into her thoughts.

This second distraction was enough to make her realise that Rock was holding her shoulders and shaking her. He was shouting out loud as well as through his talent.

"Enough! Leave it now! Come back!"

Slowly, she opened her eyes and ears to him.

Raising her head, Willow felt strange. It was different to the way she usually felt after far-talking.

"Don't sit up!" Rock told her, sharply, just as she was trying to get her elbows under her.

He was lying on the ground next to her. On stone and gravel. She looked into unfamiliar branches. There was a strong smell of burning. Worse, high in the mass of leaves that Willow could still see, she thought there were sparks floating on the wind.

"Oh bull's balls! Have I trapped us right in the path of a forest fire?" Willow blinked several times, but could not clear the stinging tears from her eyes.

"Near enough," Rock replied, "but there's a squirrel who says we might be safest if we wait it out here. I took a chance and believed it. Let's hope it was good advice."

THIRTY-NINE – HEST

When Garnet warned of fire, Hest had hurried to the nearest stream. He had thought the water might tell him if there was any danger of flames reaching the grove. He still felt exhausted, and should probably be resting his talent, but the risk was too urgent to ignore.

This stream led to the fire's source. It was the same one the harvest run had been following. Garnet had explained to everyone about the workers' campfires.

The ripples on the water's surface told him that wind would probably send the fire downstream. It would travel away from the grove, and away from the spot where he now lay on the stream bed. Knowing how quickly a wind might change direction, he decided to stay where he was for a while.

It would rain soon. The amount of water carried by the wind was increasing. Hest checked it every few moments by raising his arm into the air, letting the wind play around his fingers. When the rain came, he thought it would be heavy, probably enough to stop the fire, which was only young. The parched Forest plants would quickly swell with moisture, preventing the flames from spreading.

The water in which he now lay was not deep. Hest enjoyed the feel of it running through his clothing. He was not at all cold. Trusting his body to look after itself for a short time, he sank into water reading. Summer was spike fish season, yet he had no need to worry about getting stung. The movement of fish through water pushed at the flow, so that Hest could tell when anything swam within range of his own skin.

Riding the flow towards the harvest run, he was able to locate the fire that had started there. It was not easy to follow the flow so far downstream with his talent. He had to put himself into water that was constantly travelling away from him. By the time he reached the location of the harvest run, his link with the water was already starting to dissolve. Yet he caught the taste of charred wood and plants. And he sensed tiny prickles of heat as flames leapt from one stream bank to the other.

Before losing the link, Hest flowed around animals and other small creatures. They were all coming upstream, towards Hest. But, further on, there seemed to be a lot of people in the water, making their way rapidly downstream. Those would be the Harvesters. Hest wondered why they seemed not to have noticed the direction the fire was spreading. Perhaps they thought they could outrun it.

The water in the distant stream had also flowed around some large, heavy objects that were now burning. Hest guessed these must be the remains of harvest wagons. He could picture what they must look like. Garnet had rat-talked all she could see of the harvest run to many other Rats. She had also warned everyone to keep well away from it, to prevent any of the intruders from working out that an area close by was filled with Rats and Green.

Garnet had said Willow was trying to attack Stern Greylight's mind, but they could not be certain it would work, or that Stern would not hear Willow's thoughts in return.

As Hest lost his connection with the far-flowing water and pulled his attention back upstream, he thought more about the Harvesters. They seemed to be heading away from the grove, now. Perhaps none of them would make it out of deep Forest and reach the harvest edge before they died.

With their wagons and supplies all broken or burned, the owners of this run would now be as fully exposed to Forest as their workers. Yet, even though they had managed to get so very deep into the centre of the Forest, they appeared to have learned nothing at all. According to Garnet, the strays who were with them had seemed just as ignorant.

Whatever suffering lay ahead for the Harvesters and strays alike, Hest knew they had brought most of it on themselves. If only they had allowed themselves to learn from Forest instead of exploiting it, some of them might have been able to live here. If they had learned to listen properly to Forest, then Forest might have learned to accept them and let them stay.

Living here meant becoming a part of Forest. Hest thought that the reason he, the Green, the strays, the Rats, and any other forest-living people, could talk without speaking out loud, was that Forest had also begun speaking within all of them. Forest was not just a place. It was a community. That was a word that Joren had used to describe it. Talented or silent, everyone who lived inside Forest needed to accept it. Only then, could Forest learn from them.

For some reason, Harvesters had decided it was better to keep themselves apart. Hest found it hard to forgive them for making such a choice. Yet he saw no point in picking fights with them over it. He did not think any kind of physical fighting could ever put an end to the harvest of the Forest. Fights brought agony and deaths on both sides. Rather than solving problems, they just led to more and more fighting, as each side looked for vengeance.

Hest imagined how that kind of violence might go on and on increasing. He realised it would not be long before both sides forgot why the fight had originally started. The Rats might even forget it was the Forest they had been fighting for. They would start wanting to get back at the Harvesters for what they had done to other Rats. Some of the Yellow Lakes people already talked that way, sometimes.

Far-talking might help to prevent more violence. It would allow many people to get to know one another better, over large physical distances. But, Hest could also imagine ways far-talking might be used to increase violence. Knowing more about each other, but not meeting each other face to face, people might not listen with attention. Perhaps that would make it easier to spread rumours and gossip. But, for now at least, far-talking would most certainly help the Rats to work against the harvest of the Forest. For one thing, it was about to become much harder for the Harvesters to keep secrets. Anything any Rat found out about the harvest, could now be shared everywhere, very quickly.

Forest would also change as a result of far-talking. Hest understood how Forest had no clear boundaries. He had once been to the place where it stretched to the edge of the sea, where it learned from that salt water and the sea creatures. During the great far-talking, Forest had also been learning, he was certain.

Forest growth and water's flow were both different ways of changing. Hest heard Forest in the flow of stream water. He thought changes might already have begun as a result of the great far-talking. And he was glad.

Hest let himself sink deeper into his talent again, tracing a flow downstream once more. Ignoring the Harvesters this time, he found that he could pick up a taste of Willow and Rock. Wherever they were, it was wet, a place whose water connected with this stream. Willow had a flavour of triumph. Of success, and a danger overcome. Hest judged it safe to rat-call a warning to them both. He did not think they were out of reach of the fire or its smoke.

After that, he decided to return on foot to the grove, wanting to see the other Rats there in person, to explain what he had learned. Soon enough, the Forest Rats would all be dispersing once more. It would probably be his last chance to see many of them face to face. There was nothing more he could do to help Willow and Rock, and worrying about their safety was not going to change anything. If they made it through the fire and back to the grove, he hoped to get a chance for a long chat with them before leaving.

In a few days time, he would begin the long journey back to Tall Trees Side. He had decided to seek out Joren. If Joren was still alive, Hest would invite him to come on a trip to a different part of the Forest edge. There, Hest was hoping to meet Neamis's Wanderer troupe when they returned.

He had been wondering what people without talents would think of the news told to them by those who could far-talk. It seemed likely that the far-talkers would not be believed. Hest's idea was that some of the silent Forest Rats might travel outside of Forest, perhaps in the company of Wanderers. They would be able to say what they had witnessed in the Forest. Perhaps then, other silent ones they talked to, would believe what was said by the talented far-talkers in their local areas.

It was still true that Hest could not imagine himself and Joren becoming living-partners, or having only each other as lovers forever. But that did not mean they were not in love, or that Hest did not desperately care for Joren.

In his imagination, Hest also thought hopefully of meeting up with Garnet, Neamis, Irin, and the little one, as well as Joren and the Wanderers. Perhaps they might even all skin dance together. He knew the Forest would enjoy that.

FORTY – ROCK

It was too late to flee the fire. All they could do was wait it out and try not to breathe too much smoke. Rock clutched both arms around Willow as they lay side by side. He was very afraid.

After all that Willow had achieved. After Rock had finally let go of all guilt at having been born a Harvester. Now, it seemed, the time might have arrived for Forest to kill them both. They had been warned, over and over again, it might happen.

Forest was not burning on purpose. It had been ignorant harvest workers who had set it alight in the first place. But Forest did not purposefully send black beasts after people, either. Or let them get caught by slimevines, stung by insects, bitten by snakes and spiders, caught by tree-cats, broken in falls, or starved by winter hardships.

Willow had told Rock about Joren's idea of Forest as a community, and it made a lot of sense to him. Yet, he understood that what kept any community stable was its ability to change. He and Willow could die right now and Forest would not save them. It did not need to, it would continue on without them. One tiny part of its structure might be altered by their deaths, but such things happened many times in every single moment. Forest was constantly adapting to countless changes.

The only thing that could truly damage Forest was destruction on the scale of the harvest. Out on the deadland, the community that had been part of Forest was already so disrupted that what was left was something new. Forest would never grow in those places again. That thought made Rock angry, in spite of the danger facing him from the fire. He really wanted to survive and to continue trying to stop the harvest. He wanted Forest to be allowed to continue growing on its own terms.

When Rock had first started to feel comfortable about his talent, he had thought he was returning to what villagers called 'the old ways'. In Warner, he had learned from Yenna and Old Jesty, whose knowledge about talent had been passed down to them from previous village elders. Now, it seemed to him that those old ways could never be exactly repeated, after all. What was needed was to find a new way that did not ignore what elders had learned before. And that was exactly what Forest seemed to do.

The smoke was thicker. Rock lowered his face towards the water, forcing himself to take in air from right above its surface. He was trying not to cough. That would only cause him to draw deeper breaths, and more of the smoke.

Willow did not speak out loud, but she sent him a small jolt of comfort, like a very intimate kind of rat-talk. It did not even come through talent, but from their closeness. They had come to know one another well enough to talk sometimes without words or talent.

Suddenly, in front of Rock's eyes, the water broke in tiny ripples. Then it happened again, in a different place. He heard a small, quiet rhythm. Daring to raise his head a little, he realised that it had begun raining.

Forest did not kill deliberately. Rain did not fall deliberately. And yet, sometimes it happened to fall at exactly the right time.

FORTY-ONE – WILLOW

"Tired?" Willow asked, placing both hands on Rock's shoulders.

"Not that much," he replied, grinning.

They eased themselves out of the gravelly hollow and back onto dry land. Willow drank cold pond water until her sore throat was eased. Her eyes stung, but she was now feeling much better. Drips of rain falling through the forest canopy and landing on her head were pleasantly cool.

Making their way into an area untouched by the fire, she and Rock chose a nest within a carpet of dead whinbush leaves. The spot was sheltered by the living, bright green leaves above, and a canopy of very old homewood above that.

Nearby was a very tall burdock plant, some of whose leaves were partly nibbled by deer. Willow broke those stems off at the base, knowing the plant was already growing new ones to replace them. She laid them out to give a soft covering on the ground.

Pulling Rock down beside her, she then helped him to remove his damp clothes. He helped her likewise.

They had managed to patch the worn trousers and shirts given to them by the Wanderers, but the jackets had been left behind at Tall Trees Side. Their shoes had been woven according to instructions from the Green. So were the leaf-hats they wore when they needed to shade their eyes from the sun or keep flying insects out of their hair.

The air was warm on their uncovered skin. Most of the rain was diverted away by the leaves above. Only the occasional drip touched Willow and made her shiver. Animal talking, Rock requested biting insects to stay away.

In case some of the insects refused to listen, Willow picked a few sprigs of sharp mint, putting them in with the burdock leaves. When she and Rock lay on it, the mint smell was strong. Although Willow liked the smell, the insects did not.

All of her skin was awake. She felt every little pressure of the earth and leaves against it. Rock's skin, in contact with her own, made a warm net of sensation.

Running her fingertips over Rock's back, no talent was necessary. No thought. Yet it felt like the of whole Forest was present with them.

For an instant, it was almost as though two people could become one being. She was no longer certain which of the sensations she felt were her own and which belonged to Rock.

It had happened without any talent at all. That thought made Willow smile, and brought her back into herself, once more.

The Forest had surrounded them the whole time. It did not shudder in pleasure as they did. Yet Willow knew such everyday joy was a kind of nourishment for it. Forest required life as well as death. Pleasure as well as suffering.

A glint of sunlight drew her attention to something in Rock's hair. It looked like a piece of dry grass and she reached out with a fingertip to brush it off. It stayed in place.

Looking more closely, Willow saw fronds of something tiny, like the plants that lived on the Green. Now that she had noticed, she felt it through her talent, new and delicate, but not fragile.

"Forest has come to live in your hair," she said, lifting the strand in front of Rock's eyes for him to see.

He leaned his head back, staring until he was able to focus properly. Then he laughed.

"Not quite the same as on the Green," he said studying the growth. "Similar, but something different. Something new. I'll bet there's some of it on you, too. Let me have a look."

They explored each other for some time. To their increasing delight, they discovered more small colonies of tiny companions.

About Sally Startup

Sally Startup lives in Hampshire, England. She used to be a professional medical herbalist, so plants often get into her stories. She keeps a messy garden full of useful weeds and a herb cupboard full of home-made remedies.

Discover other titles by Sally Startup and connect with Sally online at <https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/sallystartup>

Tree Speaker by Sally Startup

There should not have been a deadly spike fish in the river in winter. Willow watched her best friend, Hest, paddling barefoot in the water. Hest was searching for a firestone, which he thought he had seen from the bank. Willow's other best friend, Emmie, had begged him to fetch it, because she didn't have a firestone of her own, and she badly wanted one.

"I wouldn't want to be an Animal Talker," Hest said, just before he trod on the spike fish.

Tree speaking is a talent, like stone listening and animal talking. Tree speakers are healers, knowing both plants and people. But the world beyond Willow's small village is changing. She must find a way to use her talent to protect her way of life.

Download Tree Speaker here <https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/377153>

Spice City by Sally Startup

The harvest of the Forest earns coin for the city elders, but Willow the young tree speaker knows that others meet the hidden cost. She wants to help oppose the Harvesters, but who should she trust? And does Rock, the city boy who agreed to be her companion, have stronger feelings for her or not?

An argument for sustainability in a work of fantasy fiction, Spice City is a sequel to Sally Startup's teen environmental fantasy Tree Speaker.

Download Spice City here <https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/449926>

