Dem covered a yawn as he helped move the warm stones into the center of the tent, where they'd radiate heat throughout the night. Sleeping order in Swiftwind tradition began with Gram and circled around by age. He usually slept between Gram and Ai.
Ai smiled when Noko asked to sleep on the other side of Dem, like a younger sibling seeking comfort.
"It's okay to bend some traditions."
Dem slid beneath the blankets, watching as Noko drifted naturally toward Gram for warmth and familiarity.
"Have Noko attend morning Sybasi training."
Ai nodded. "She'll be a few weeks behind."
"Don't worry, I'll catch her up."
The weight of the day pressed heavily on him — his mother's letter, Isadora's, the attempt on his life as a baby, Noko's rite. Sleep found him before he could think too hard.
He woke later to two small knees pressed into his back. A glance showed Noko curled tight beside him. Smiling, he eased out of the blankets and placed a hand on Ai's shoulder.
Ai rubbed her eyes. "Where are you going?"
"Sentry business. I expect you both for Sybasi before breakfast."
Ai glanced sleepily at Noko's ball of warmth and nodded. "See you there."
She smiled when Dem kissed the top of her head.
By the time Dem reached the Sentry area, everyone was mounted and waiting. His mare stood ready at the front.
He vaulted into the saddle.
"We patrol daily. Running on the route, weapons training after we return."
Telo reined in beside him, waiting for Dem to move.
Dem urged his mount into a canter.
"Forward!" Telo bellowed.
They followed the river west, then arced north in a wide loop. Dem was already considering Revan's suggestion — they desperately needed a reliable river crossing. Until then, half their range was effectively unreachable.
After an hour, Dem pulled up and dismounted, grabbing his reins. Without a word, he began running.
Telo followed immediately, and groans rippled through the ranks as the Sentry force reluctantly joined.
As before, Dem watched them carefully, remounting before anyone reached their limit. Training wasn't about daily exhaustion — it was steady effort. The same effort would yield more as they grew.
Back in camp, Dem split his time between the scouts and archers before heading to spear training with Huntmaster Dern later.
It started when he notched an arrow under Reyka's instruction. She moved close to adjust his grip, and suddenly an image flickered above her — a spectral outline of a creature.
Dem stared until it sharpened.
Reyka raised an eyebrow. "Something on my face? Or has my beauty finally rendered you speechless?"
"Winter Wolf," Dem murmured, turning back to the target.
"What?" Reyka blinked, confused. "They're native to Frostridge, yes, I've seen them. Why?"
But Dem only nodded, glancing around the others as similar ghost-forms hovered over various Sentries.
Before spear training, he washed at the river, splashing water over his torso. As he walked back, Elspeth approached with two full buckets.
She winked. "No shirt today, Dem? I approve."
Dem snorted, taking both buckets. "I'll carry these as long as you don't talk."
Elspeth nodded solemnly — for almost ten whole seconds.
Once they crossed into Traveler grounds, she burst.
"Why couldn't I speak?"
Dem set the buckets down. "You talk too much."
Spear training confirmed his suspicion. Dern thrust from a basic stance — one Dem should have blocked — but instead Dem sidestepped and disengaged. Not incorrect, but not his usual style either.
"You seem distracted," Dern said.
"We need to see the shaman," Dem answered, lowering his spear.
Dern frowned. "Something wrong?"
"Seems I can see everyone's beastkin form by staring for a few seconds."
Dern stopped cold. "Truly?"
He pointed to Revan, the Clan Chief.
Dem studied him. "Mountain Ram."
Dern smirked. "Wolves eat goats." His own form being a gray wolf, the jab wasn't subtle. "That one."
He pointed at Teya Bearclaw.
Dem studied her. "Wolverine."
Dern grimaced. "That's a good one. Let's speak to the shaman."
Even in the busy camp, Dem found her easily.
Her smile brightened. "Good morning, dasai."
Dem returned it. "I'd like to talk, dosu."
He explained the new ability. She listened with keen focus.
"Could be the new ink," she murmured. "Or…"
She leaned closer, inhaling.
Dem snorted. "Been working hard for three hours. That's probably not a good idea."
"Your scent is always pleasant," she said. "But the change is already upon you. Eat properly and get rest."
She tapped his forehead and ruffled his hair. "I want to know everyone's beastkin."
Dem nodded. "I'll tell you as I see them."
A short while later, Dem began teaching Sybasi to a small group. With a few more weeks, they'd know enough to begin passing the basics on to others — a slow, steady spread of skill the way Sybasi was meant to grow.
Noko stood beside Ai, her posture making her seem even smaller than she was. She watched intently as Dem moved through a defensive sequence that combined footwork, evasion, and blade-blocking. When he finished once, he repeated the form slowly, breaking down each motion and answering questions. A third time at full speed sealed the demonstration.
Then he let them practice on their own. Dem walked among them, adjusting grips, nudging feet, making small corrections. Noko waited patiently until he finally stopped in front of her.
"Ready to begin?" Dem asked.
Noko nodded with a focused, pale intensity. She flinched the moment he offered her one of the dull-tipped practice knives.
"We use these because they're safer," Dem explained gently.
Noko reached for it… then recoiled, face draining of color as cold sweat broke across her brow.
"It's okay."
Dem put the knife away immediately. Noko's pallor eased at once. He called over his shoulder, "Keep working," then guided her a short distance aside.
Noko stared at the dirt, fidgeting. "I'll try again, dosu."
Dem shook his head. "Let's sit for a bit."
He hopped onto a nearby boulder, and she perched beside him like a wary bird.
"Can you change me again?" she whispered.
Dem touched a finger to his lips. "We don't talk about that. But yes — if it helps you feel better."
Noko's first change had chased some of the terror from her eyes, replacing it with something fragile but steady.
"Thank you, dosu."
"You can't hold bladed weapons," Dem said calmly.
"I… I can try—"
"How long has this been happening?" he asked.
Noko's small shoulders lifted. "Since I was very young."
Dem thought back to the missionary lessons he sat through for bread — some clerics couldn't touch knives without shaking, those with the ability to wield healing magic.
"Can you use a bow?" Dem asked.
"Yes," Noko said quickly, glancing at Ai. "I can try again, though—"
Dem laughed softly. "No. Don't be stubborn, dasai."
Her lips twitched.
Dem glanced at Ai, letting her beastkin image rise. The shimmering outline of a porcupine appeared, bristly and indignant.
He burst into a quiet laugh. "Prickly indeed."
Ai noticed his stare. "What?"
"Nothing," Dem said, still smiling. Then he turned back to Noko. "I'll teach you the footwork without the blade. Dodging and retreating are as important as striking — sometimes more."
Noko nodded firmly, the first true spark of confidence showing since her rite.
After finishing the Sybasi lessons, Dem sought out the Swiftwind shaman for a private conversation.
"When you said you wanted to talk, I assumed you meant my tent," the white-painted shaman said as she followed Dem and Noko out of the compound and into the quiet woods.
Noko drifted a little ahead, her hands brushing through the ferns and hanging leaves as though they were old friends. "It smells nice here," she murmured.
Dem stepped into a small glade he recognized and took a seat on a broad stone, letting his senses sweep outward until he was certain no sound or heartbeat lay near. "We're alone."
The shaman arched a brow. "Is something wrong?"
"No," Dem answered. "I want to induce the beastkin change in Noko again. I think it may help with the healing process."
Rather than scold or caution him, the shaman's grin spread immediately. "Then me too?"
Dem rolled his eyes. "You too."
A beat passed. "I also think Noko might have healing magic."
The shaman placed her palm gently atop Noko's light brown hair, closing her eyes. "I felt something. I checked for elemental magic before the rite—she has none. But her blood… yes. It sings with something else."
Dem nodded. "I could ask that healer from the Hunter group—Ciara. She's a student at the Mage Academy."
"That Academy is dangerous," the shaman warned softly. "And Thaigmaal is very far."
"True. If the Sentry force passes near the city again, I'll speak with her. She might know how healers are trained."
He swept the glade again with his senses—nothing but wind, soil, and the pulse of the two women beside him. "Ready?"
They both nodded.
Dem's eyes bled into a deep, unnatural red. "Escadomai."
Both women dissolved into their beastkin forms in a billow of crimson mist.
Dem laughed aloud, delighted, as Noko's tiny spotted deer form bounded through the glade—darting, turning, leaping high with an effortless grace that seemed to glow. The sight warmed something in his chest he hadn't realized had gone cold.
The shaman's pine marten shape shot through the waist-high ferns in streaks of brown and cream, occasionally popping up to try and startle him. Her joy was contagious.
Dem felt none of the painful strain from the first time he'd used escadomai. Maybe it was because there were fewer shapes to hold… or perhaps he really was getting stronger.
After a long while, fatigue finally began to tug at him. "Time to stop."
Both beastkin trotted toward their piled clothes. Dem closed his eyes and released the change with a controlled exhale. When he opened them, both women were already dressed.
"Thank you, dosu!" Noko flung her arms around his waist, her smile bright enough to chase shadows.
"Yes, thank you, Dem," the shaman echoed warmly as the three of them headed back toward camp.