Lyn and Nat spent a few minutes hurriedly trying to convince the clackaw that they'd prefer Novek's soft, warm, comfortable fur in time for dawn. Having him hold tea and cider in each paw ended up being the deciding factor. Wings flapping to assist with their awkward hopping, the clackaw made their way over to Novek as a group, where they stared up at him — also as a group — until he rolled his eyes at them, then put his paws down, at which point they climbed onto his arms so they could reach the proffered drinks.

  While they couldn't be sure, Lyn thought they perceived a small amount of disappointment from Novek that his fur wasn't sufficiently enticing by itself — while they didn't have much experience with Ankarran cats, Lyn understood that they were proud as a general rule, and the amount of time Novek spent cleaning and then combing his fur certainly did seem more than was strictly necessary.

  And with that resolved, they took their improvised plate with a fresh set of hot cakes and walked around the outside of the rock formation — there was no time to get further away, so this would have to do. “As long as the clackaw stay with Novek, I think this will be sufficient. We're visible to the road, but things are generally hard to see at dawn, and we should only be out here a few minutes.”

  Nat nodded, “No argument here. How long do you think we'll keep doing this? It seems safe enough at this point, even if there's a pulse.”

  “Ah, of course — you don't remember yesterday morning. It pulled you and Soot out of your Talent early — thus the mild burns. I don't think we have sufficient data points to know what will happen if you're active at the time, but if you're in the frozen state, things still go wrong. It's not unreasonable to assume that — like how it deactivated when it should not have — it might activate when you do not intend, as well. My concern is that if you have an episode of yours — you could do damage, or become stuck again.”

  Nat rubbed his hands — gently — at the reminder. “Stuck in the Talent? But Moira, you can deactivate it, right? I might just get a little scorched?”

  Maybe not if you're frozen, or accelerated too fast. The freeze ratio is an order of magnitude — possibly two — greater than even your fastest active ratio. But since you're slower at that point, there's no time for me to communicate with it. If it decides to keep you frozen to bleed off additional energy there's no point where I can communicate with it until it ends normally.

  “Oh. Got it — get hit hard enough, and I'm going to get sent to the corner for an uninterruptible time out.”

  Lyn couldn't help but make a ‘snrk’ sound at that. “Eloquently put. Maybe not precise or entirely accurate, but eloquent nonetheless.” They moved into position around the side of the rock, between the coach and Nat.

  It's similar to a problem we were close to having with Trant. You were exceeding my limits when you were pushing yourself. It might not have been obvious to you, but I was presented with the novel experience of not being able to think fast enough to speak to you in real time. Anything I said to you would likely have sounded garbled or at least hard to understand. Any faster, and you'd have been waiting subjective minutes on my responses — I might have been forced to resort to text floating in space, rather than speech.

  “Oh, so too fast, and I'm on my own?”

  For a little while, yes. You'll get to experience, to a small degree, what it's like for me. We should keep in mind that at a certain point if you try to talk to me or communicate via pattern that I might not get everything — you'd have to hold a pattern or maybe a gestural pose long enough for me to recognize it. But keep in mind that speech is right out, even if you bring air. In the unlikely event you do need to go that fast, wait for me to display what I've seen, so you know I've seen it, then you can move to the next word or gesture. Also, dawn is in thirty seconds.

  Lyn held a hand around the side of the rock, palm up. “Hand around the rock, please, Nat.”

  His hand came around the side and rested gently on their palm, and then they waited in silence for dawn to pass.

  A few minutes of nothing happening later, and Lyn called it, “Okay. I think we're fine for today — let's head back and clean up.” On consideration, Lyn determined that their desire to finish their breakfast while it was still warm probably didn't factor too strongly into their timing decisions.

  They came around the rock in time to see Novek attempting to pry Siya away from one of the clackaw before disaster struck. “No, stop. They're friends, not food.” He looked up at Lyn, “What do we have left that would be good for the kit? He doesn't seem to care much for our breakfast.”

  “Let me check — we're probably low on Ber, so I think it's going to be Ankarran sausage or maybe jerky. Ellie? Let's add something suitable for the kit to the list of things to pick up at the outpost — whatever they've got that's moderate quality — and reasonably cheap in bulk — will do. We can do our own hunting later, so don't get too much — a couple of days worth.”

  Ellie was checking over the tack, in preparation to hitch the horses up to depart. “What's a couple of days worth mean for the insatiable maws that comprise this group? Ten kilos? More?”

  “You know what? That's a good point. On second thought, we'd probably be better off selling most of what we hunt, anyway — cleaning and prep is involved, and I don't want to get caught out while we're distracted. Get whatever you think you'd like, as long as you think it will keep.”

  “Roger that. So other than food, replacement cooking gear, and simple bedding material — what else should I look for? Novek, make up your mind — I'm not letting you cut the cart apart.” Ellie saw Novek's paw go up, and she put her own up in return. “Wait, let me finish. I also don't want anything that could accidentally hurt passengers. So, given those two constraints, what do you want me to bring you back? And remember, this is a wilderness outpost, not a market — they'll have what they have, and it will mostly be raw or unprocessed materials.”

  Novek didn't need time to consider, he'd clearly spent time making a list in his head and rattled it off. “Anything suitable for discouraging boarders, and general supplies. For the first, I'm looking for springs — coil or leaf, metal blades — the longer, the better. Actually, if they have a logging saw that would be perfect. After that I could use an assortment of fasteners: nails, screws, dowels will do if that's all they have. Tell them it's for a water-powered sawmill and that should get good results.”

  Lyn pondered a moment, “Let's get some replacement heat-resistant furs, blankets, maybe some clothing?”

  Nat pointed to the group of Ber hanging from Novek. “I'm thinking some more tea, cider, and some fruit. Sorry if that was covered under food.”

  Ellie finished up her preparation, but stopped short of hitching the horses to let them rest and graze until it was time to depart. “Okay, I think all of that makes a fairly easy story about needing to feed a group of builders. Even the heat-resistant items make sense if some of the wood is being turned to charcoal. Lyn, can we do the healing thing? Does that make sense or should I just worry about the splint for now?”

  Oh, I vote healing. I'd like to practice, if you don't mind.

  “I sort of do if this is some sort of trial run — no offense, Moira.”

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  It's not — we tested this out earlier. I would not use you as a test subject. You could Ask Lyn if you'd like.

  Ellie looked over for reassurance, “Lyn?”

  “Yes, I will make you a test subject. Kidding, kidding! It will be fine — it's not an either-or situation, we can do both, and I need to replace your splint anyway. Novek, how long will it take to fabricate something?” Lyn's comment was met by a cool stare and pursed lips from Ellie.

  Novek came to their rescue, “A quarter-hour at the most for something adjustable — this is simple stuff. I can start right now and then just tell me what you'd like adjusted.”

  Lyn knocked their hand in the air once, “Okay then. Let's limit this to no more than an hour so that Ellie is out and back well before sunset. Nat, you're on clackaw duty, everyone else's hands are going to be occupied.”

  Nat helped move things around while carefully removing the clackaw from Novek's neck ruff so he could scrub the cooking stone for the second time today, before it was suitable for use as an impromptu table for the work on Ellie's arm.

  As Lyn cut the old one off, he couldn't help but notice the discoloration — it was bright purple and swollen. “Wow, that does not look comfortable in the least.”

  Both Ellie and Lyn turned and gave him a look, while saying nothing. Right. He'd just… go do… something else.

  On the assumption that Novek was less grumpy, he came around the side where he was busy creating a forearm brace that ringed the arm near the elbow and wrist — like most things Nat had seen Novek build, it looked a tiny bit overengineered — he was positive Ellie would love it.

  “So what kind of work are you going to do to the coach?”

  Novek didn't bother looking up from his work, but answered enthusiastically as he always did when talking about a project. “Well, it depends on what they've got available, but I'm thinking two things. First, some unmilled cactuswood panels designed to lock in place smooth side out, that can be unlocked and will then rotate freely anywhere that would be likely to be grabbed by a hijacker. I'll use the saw, assuming they have one, as a mill first for that so it looks good instead of being obvious — I'll have to work out how to stain the wood though — maybe burn it to black and then lacquer it?”

  “Well that just sounds mean. In a good way though. Anything that makes it harder for someone to quietly grab hold and throw me off a moving coach is a plus in my book.”

  “Exactly so. Next up is something that's a one-use, or maybe once per side, roof-mounted spring-loaded blade. Something that would take anyone off the roof or sideboards. That's less discouragement and more intended to disable, but either or both of those would have prevented the situation we had last night from getting as far as it did.”

  “Okay, nix that earlier comment — this is mean, that earlier stuff was a prank, comparatively.”

  Novek lifted his paw out of the way and pointed, “Hold this in place for me a second, please? Thanks. Anyway I'll also be armoring the doors up a little so they'll stop shots, or even bolts. It's a pretty light coach — since it's only drawn by two horses, but I'm guessing they'll have some fairly hard wood available, this close to the wilds.”

  “Why would that matter?”

  “Because Ber aren't the only engineered species — Ankarran wood is merely decorative, comparatively. I know you were on your way to the wilds when we met — did Lyn tell you what to expect?”

  “Not exactly. I'm not entirely unfamiliar with the difference between Ankarran and native plant species though.”

  “I think Lyn might argue that the word native doesn't apply here.”

  Lyn's voice came from the other side of the coach. “Correct!”

  Novek continued, “The point, though, is that here, in the Human dominated areas — or Ankarran, if you want to include Brin — you're not as exposed to the variety of life that the progenitor species seeded the planet with. What you might think of as plants and animals aren't so distinct. For instance, some species of trees out in the wilds are capable of laying traps, moving to ensnare or strike, and even uprooting and migrating.”

  “Laying traps? Like a Flytrap or a Sundew?”

  “No, I mean truly laying traps. As in, crafting and placing them — some of them will dig pits and then poke sharp roots through the floor and walls, then basically drink anything that falls in.”

  “What.”

  “Yeah. Okay, you need to talk to Lyn before you ever set foot in the wilds — you aren't ready.”

  “Correct again!” That was Lyn again, of course.

  “I've decided that I do not wish to live on this planet anymore, Lyn.”

  “Yeah? The queue to leave is over ten billion souls long and counting.”

  Nat looked at Novek and spoke in a lowered voice, “I can never tell when they're being serious.”

  The Brin gave him a sympathetic look. “Me too, kid.”

  Once again Lyn's voice carried from opposite the coach. “That's the trick — I'm always at least halfway serious.”

  Novek finished his adjustments and inspected his handiwork. “Okay, this should do. Let's go join the party — it looks like your friends already have.”

  Nat looked around and noticed that the clackaw had indeed all left — quietly. He stood and followed Novek around the coach, and could see that they had in fact all moved to sit and watch the proceedings with obvious interest. Huh.

  Okay, so now that Lyn has marked the bones for me, I'm going to instantiate a general healing pattern. Take a seat, Nat, you should pay attention — I'll do this so you can see the pattern I'm building.

  Both Nat and Novek took a seat quietly, nudging the entranced clackaw out of the way. Nat picked a particularly obstinate one up and placed it on his lap to watch. The air around Ellie's arm began to glow, softly, with the blue-white that indicated Moira's use of aether. A half-meter above her purple-colored arm — now freshly cleaned by Lyn and ready for the new splint — hung a complex rotating matrix of glowing strings with tiny balls of light scattered among them. It was absolutely beautiful — and Nat could feel that sense of well-being and rejuvenation that had accompanied Moira's last attempts, only it was stronger, and more refined this time.

  That's the basic pattern. I'm making it bigger than it needs to be, since everyone is a little banged up. Since we're not moving I think I can skip needing time in the Talent to reinforce this sufficiently. It will just take a few minutes to build to full strength.

  Lyn put their hand out, “Splint, please, Novek. I want to hold the bone in place before I start my own work. It's not a bad break — just a fracture at the wrist, but you'll want to try to use it as little as possible for a day or two, Ellie. Don't lift anything heavy even by leaning it on your arm, or you could make it worse.”

  Ellie winced as Lyn applied gentle pressure. “With how much it hurts, I don't think that will be a problem. I left the horses in half-tack last night, so I might need a hand when I get back. They'll never forgive me if I do that two days in a row. I'm sure I'll be able to convince the proprietor at the outpost to load the coach for me, so I'm not worried about that.”

  They then re-bandaged Ellie's arm and applied the splint — the way it could slide under the arm and then have the second half clamshell closed to lock in place was inspired, to Nat's admittedly amateur eye. That had only taken Novek fifteen minutes? Lyn then laid their own hands on Ellie's elbow and palm, and Nat could feel an itching feeling against his senses.

  It wasn't unpleasant, but it felt somewhat strange compared to the comforting sensation that Moira's field gave. He said as much, “That field of yours is itchy, Lyn.”

  Their head snapped to look at him, but they said nothing. What was that about?

  A moment later and the sensation of itchiness lessened, and it felt more like Moira's field. Not quite the same — it lacked the feeling of comfort, but it also felt more… focused? Could aether feel like it could be blunt versus keen?

  Still looking at him, Lyn asked, “How's that?”

  “Better. Sharper. Less itchy.”

  Lyn managed to squint at Nat. No mean feat for a silverpaw, but Nat had a feeling that Lyn practiced Human-like facial expressions, using nictating membranes as eyelids.

  Everyone sat quietly in the soft comforting glow for another fifteen minutes before Lyn said, “Okay, I think that's enough. Human physiology needs time to supply the area with nutrients and oxygen, or we could cause long term damage.”

  Novek sighed as the fields lessened and vanished, then stood and addressed the kit, who had moved to be cradled in the nook of his elbow at some point. “I had no idea how much I needed that. I feel great, but tired. Come on, Siya, we're taking a nap over in the sun.”

  Nat stood as well, at which point the clackaw, which had been silent and still for the entire time as well, re-animated as one and resumed their clacking, ruffling activity with a renewed fervor. Three of them suddenly took off, flying west.

  Lyn looked over at him, “I guess they had enough tea. Strange though — they usually fly together as a group when they overnight.” With a look at the two remaining clackaw, Lyn inquired, “Are you two sure you're staying?”

  One of the birds — the obstinate one from earlier, based on the feather pattern — gave Lyn an indecipherable look, and then took hold of Nat's clothing and closed its eyes. A minute later both it and its brethren were fast asleep, making small snoring noises. Nat wondered if anyone had gotten enough sleep last night — it sure didn't seem it.

  Finally, with a groan of effort, Ellie stood to leave. “Okay, I need to get on the road to the outpost. I'll be back as soon as I can — if I'm not back two hours before dusk, then something has happened, and you should send Novek to avenge me.” They approached the coach and went to reach out to pull themselves up — with their splinted hand. “Speaking of — could I get a helping paw up?”