4118/7/2/7
They rose before the pale of dawn had finished gathering itself from the trees, the first light a whisper that brushed the ridge like a tentative hand. The fire from the night was only embers now, glowing faintly in the ring of stones, casting long shadows that danced with the morning mist. Arowsa's warm bulk was already low and watchful, its quicksilver-sheened hide catching the dim glow like a mirror to the stars that still lingered in the sky. Luffy was the first awake, as he always was—not with the rude clamor of someone forcing the day, but with the quiet readiness of a stream finding its path downhill. He sat up slowly, testing the ankle by rolling the foot in a circle, listening to the tiny protests in the bones, the dull ache a companion that reminded him of the Hollow's fierce embrace. His fists were wrapped tighter than the night before; the skin at the knuckles had dried into a dark, crusted map, each scab a small island in a sea of bruise, charting the blows that had felled the Sleeper. He tapped the bandage with one finger and grinned to himself, the kind of grin that was both reckless and honest, a spark of fire in the cool dawn air.AO woke after him, moving with careful speed—no dramatic motions, nothing wasted. Where the needle had cut him, the linen was stained black, the blood thick and reluctant like shadowed ink clinging to parchment. He kept the sleeve rolled away so the wound could breathe, but he never let it steal the center of their quiet circle. Injuries were silent partners in their journey, to be tended with the precision of one mending a sail torn by storm. AO's fingers flexed around the bandage, his jaw a line of resolve as he bound it anew, the black blood leaving faint traces on the cloth like echoes of the Sleeper's final defiance. The wound throbbed with a rhythm that matched the island's distant pulse, a reminder that some scars were not just flesh but stories etched deeper.Uta's throat sounded like dry paper when she swallowed, a soft rustle that broke the hush. She stretched the long, slow way children do when their bodies have been tested and decided to forgive them a little, her movements a gentle unfolding like petals greeting the light. She tried to sing a line, but the sound rasped out like a match struck in rain, raw and unfinished, and she shut her mouth with a small, embarrassed laugh, her violet eyes flickering with a mix of frustration and resolve. The hush between the three had weight; they were not angry or melancholy so much as undressed by what they had done, their souls laid bare in the aftermath of the resonance that had reshaped the Hollow. The island's air felt like the inside of a thought, cool and contemplative, wrapping around them like a cloak woven from mist and memory.Arowsa, big and dusty with the quicksilver sheen still in her flank, nudged Luffy awake with a broad nose that smelled like river-stone and distant thunder. The beast rose and shook out a coat that tossed light in quiet, metallic splinters, each one a glimmering fragment of the lake they had birthed. Around them, small animals—beetles with shells like dark stars, glass-geckos that refracted the dawn into prisms, night-moths with wings like veiled whispers—moved aside and lowered their heads as the group prepared to leave. Bowing was not ceremony; it was recognition. Whatever had changed in the Hollow traveled with them like a rumor the trees could not help but pass on, a wave of reverence that rippled through the undergrowth.They broke camp and packed with clumsy grace, their movements a silent symphony of shared purpose. There was little conversation, the words saved for when they were needed, like arrows in a quiver. AO checked Luffy's ankle with an expert eye, then wrapped it with a strip of cloth, binding it not too tight so blood still moved but not loose enough that the tendon could twitch freely. Luffy made a face at the touch, more out of habit than true pain, his grin flashing like sunlight on water. Uta tucked her scarf around her throat and blew on her hands to warm them, the breath a small cloud that hung in the air like a promise. The path lay ahead like a stitched seam in the island's vast tapestry, inviting them onward with the subtle curve of green and stone.The day began as a test: a long slope of loose stone leading to a shelf of basalt that jutted like a whale's spine from the ridge. That shelf had once been a boundary where the sea had fought the land and lost, now a ledge through which travelers threaded like threads in a loom. The path climbed and narrowed; moss grew in the cracks and roots looped like ropes, each one a lifeline offered by the island's living will. Spider-vines draped from the branches, their webs shimmering like veils of dew, and as Arowsa passed, the vines parted with a soft sigh, the spiders bowing their segmented bodies in quiet deference. The creature took the lead and moved with surprising delicacy, its feet finding holds that Luffy could not see, each step a soft thunder that resonated through the ridge like a heartbeat shared.At the first steep incline, a flock of Nightgliders descended from the canopy, their bat-like forms with translucent wings filled with glowing veins blending seamlessly with the dawn light. They circled once, their pulses of light attracting small prey from the underbrush, then dipped low, their wings folding in a bow that created a tunnel of shimmering air for the group to pass through. The glow from their veins illuminated the path ahead, casting patterns on the stone that looked like ancient runes, evoking a sense of wonder that made Uta's breath catch in her throat, the light reflecting in her eyes like stars captured in violet depths.Higher up, the ridge opened to a vista where the wind carried the scent of distant seas, and the group paused to catch their breath. From the ledges below, creatures watched—bodies folded into the rock like living statues. A family of Shadow Eels slithered from the crevices, their amphibious forms refracting light to create illusionary duplicates that bowed in unison, the duplicates shimmering like echoes of the resonance wave, a display that filled the air with a hypnotic pattern, making the children feel as if the island was multiplying its gratitude. The eels absorbed the bioluminescent energy from nearby plants and channeled it into blinding flashes that lit the ridge like fireworks, a celebration that instilled a sense of awe, the light dancing across Arowsa's hide in waves of silver and gold.The path continued, weaving through a grove of starlight vines that climbed the cliffs like living ladders, their tiny bioluminescent bulbs resembling stars. As the group passed, the vines reacted to their presence: bulbs flared briefly, lighting the path in a cascade of soft glow that followed their steps like a living constellation, the light warm and inviting, a path laid out by the island itself. Moonfire Insects swarmed from the vines, their coordinated glows creating living constellations above, the patterns shifting to match the faint stars on Arowsa's flank, a sight that made Luffy's eyes widen in pure wonder, the insects bowing by dimming their lights in unison, creating a moment of darkness that felt like a reverent pause.They moved on along a narrow terrace that clung to the ridge face. The path required single-file steps. Moss grew in strips like stitched felt; small, sharp springs of green pushed up between stones. Where the path thinned to a hairline, the island offered an answer: a series of natural handholds—roots, weathered knobs of stone, a small ledge formed by the fossilized rib of something larger than memory. They trusted those holds the way sailors trust knots. Arowsa's footfalls were careful, almost surgical, and it chose its steps as if mapping a child's first map. At one point Luffy slipped; he mis-set his toe on a round, slick patch of stone and the ankle buckled. The world shortened to a bright, hot seam. He mis-set his toe on a round, slick patch of stone and the ankle buckled. The world shortened to a bright, hot seam. He went down hard, twisting, and for a still second a sound like breaking twig and breath snapped out of him. AO's hand was on him before Luffy hit the ground—a quick, sure catch that kept the boy from rolling into the scrub. Luffy's shout was half anger and half apology; he clutched at his ankle and the bandage tore a little more."Stupid," he muttered, though the curse had no weight. His face pulsed with the fight between wanting to get up and obeying the bone's rule.AO's voice was quiet and exact. "Stay." He sat back on his heels, inspected the twist with an even-voiced calm like someone reading a scroll of ancient wisdom. He set his fingers along the tendon and then with a small, efficient movement he took off another strip of cloth and wrapped it firm above and below the ankle, stabilizing it. Luffy hissed when AO circled the wrap too tight, and the boy tried a grin that was half defiance, half gratitude, the pain a fire that forged his resolve stronger."Good," AO said, a single word that carried the weight of mountains. He looked at Luffy as if he were a problem solved and also an answer not yet finished. Then he shifted his eyes to Uta. "Can you—" he started, and the sentence hung halfway. He had called for a small kindness. Uta stepped forward, reached into her pack, and took out a little pouch of dried leaves they used for sleep and ease. She made a tiny, concentrated inhale, a habit she had learned to turn air into a small ritual, and let a minute of song slip free: not a melody that would call down the Hollow, only a thin thread of tune that smelled like the base of rain when the first drops warm the soil.The effect was immediate and small: Luffy's face smoothened; his breath lost a jagged edge. The pain did not vanish, but it unlanced into something that could be tolerated, a companion rather than an enemy. AO's shoulders dropped. The island noticed the small exchange—grass at their feet eased its angle, and the glass-mantles—still circling—flapped once and let a few fine, dustlike motes of light fall, the motes shimmering like stars fallen to earth, filling the air with a sense of wonder that made the moment feel eternal.They continued, slower now, aware of the narrowness of their path and the fragility of each step. The ridge led them down into a shallow col where the wind sheltered and the light softened into an emerald twilight even though the day was still young. Spider-vines hung like curtains and bowed when Arowsa's flank brushed them; small moths that usually fluttered in dizzy storms clustered in the folds and lay still until the procession had moved by. There were places deep in the col where the light, filtered through leaves, made everything look like a memory, the green so vibrant it seemed to pulse with life.At the base of the col, the path opened onto a wide terrace that sloped gently toward a valley basin. The terrace was a patchwork of meadows and low brush, dotted with fields of stone-wheat; the land here had the patient look of places that had fed people for generations. Farther down the terraces clustered old standing stones, each one worn slick by weather and touched with faint lines—marks of some language that time had thinned. When they passed, one of the stones chimed like a low bell and a small flock of tiny, luminescent beetles rose and dipped in a wave of light, their glow a soft cascade that lit the path ahead like a river of stars.They were closer now, closer enough that Luffy, for a moment, let his eyes lift and try to see the shape of Foosha between trees and river. It was still a smudge, but human shapes make a certain rhythm on the land: straight fences, the rectangular glint of a rooftop, the ordered geometry of paths and yards. AO shaded his eyes and squinted. "Two days if we keep a steady trot," he said. His words were neither promise nor forecast—just a map read in a practical voice. Luffy's breath went quick with a small, fierce hope; Uta pressed her palm to her chest in a short, private prayer, the gesture a silent vow to the island that had shaped them.The terrace was the island's kindness: a wide, flat pocket where they could rest and dry off before the valley's humidity began to take them. They lay out their packs and let the small sun warm the cloth. Arowsa grazed and flicked its tail, scattering a small shower of silver motes across the grass. The animal's flank steamed gently in the cool. Luffy took off his glove and set it beside him as if offering the hand to the earth; he had a small, awkward conversation with himself in gestures—testing the range of the ankle, flexing the fingers, finding a line between pushing and breaking.Beasts bowed as they passed.A group of slow, stone-backed lizards raised their heads and lowered them in a slow, ceremonial dip that made the ground shiver with a soft chuckle of stone. A brood of featherlings tucked their heads under their wings and unseen, somewhere deep in the terrace, a herd of den-elk lifted and knelt until the earth took the weight of their heads. Even the small things bowed: a ribbon of moss that had clung to an old root shook loose and lay like a green ribbon at their feet.The afternoon fed and repaired them in tiny, practical ways. Uta boiled a thin soup and blew on it to cool it; they ate slowly, in small helpings, tasting more than eating, the flavors a reminder of the simple joys that awaited in Foosha. AO took the black-streaked cloth from his arm and rinsed it; the water turned an odd, dense ink before clearing, the stain fading like a shadow retreating from light. Luffy washed his hands in cool water and rolled his shoulders, making a soft sound of effort, the movement a small victory against the ache.Late in the afternoon something moved in the long grass: a column of animals working itself into a procession. They came in a slow, careful line—creatures with long necks and thin, translucent skins that shimmered faintly. When they saw the children they slowed, lowered their heads, and one of the larger ones extended a forelimb to rest it lightly on the ground beside Luffy. It was an old courtesy the island paid: a sharing of weight, a way to say, we acknowledge you passed through our center and carried its wound. For a second the boys felt less like trespassers and more like chosen witnesses, the moment a tapestry of connection that wove them into the island's living story.AO watched that scene quietly and then, unexpectedly, brought his hand to the place on his arm where the black blood had pooled. He pressed gently, not to prod but to hold the place as a sacred point, the touch a silent acknowledgment of the power they had wielded. For a moment he was a boy again, not the measured soldier, and his face loosened in a way that made his features almost humane, the vulnerability a rare glimpse into the heart beneath the resolve. Luffy noticed and gave him a look that meant nothing like pity and everything like family. He reached out and gave AO's shoulder a small, quick squeeze. AO flinched then let his jaw relax. The three of them sat with the terrace around them—land, animal, and sky like a ring—and the small human tenderness that passed among them made the island seem a gentler place for a breath, a moment of connection that instilled a sense of wow, the bond between them a light that shone brighter than any bioluminescent glow.As the sun slid, the light changed. Shadows deepened, and a chill came across the terrace. Uta stood and walked away from them a few steps, found a hollow under a small tree, and put her palm to the bark. She closed her eyes and breathed slow. The island listened and answered with a rustle, and from the hollow of her hand she coaxed a tiny mist—ten minutes of rain that smelled like the kind of afternoon she remembered as a child: warm clay and the faint sugar of early fruit. The rain fell only in a narrow circle around her and they sat beneath it like pilgrims at a shrine. The droplets were small and sweet, and when Luffy drank from his cupped hands the water tasted like a memory of his mother's kitchen: plates clanging faintly, a laugh caught in a doorway.The trick was small, part ceremony, part gift, and it left Uta breathless. Her throat hurt when she laughed and the sound cracked, but the small rain had done something practical: the damp warmed Luffy's ankle and loosened some of the tension. The bandage absorbed the damp and Luffy's face eased. AO's eyes softened for the second time that day. Uta, flushed and a little pale, smiled and wiped her mouth, the moment a wondrous display of her growing power, filling them with a sense of awe that made the rain feel like a blessing from the island itself.They moved again toward evening, descending into the valley. The path narrowed and the trees closed in like hands. Spider-vines hung like curtains and bowed when Arowsa's flank brushed them; small moths that usually fluttered in dizzy storms clustered in the folds and lay still until the procession had moved by. There were places deep in the valley where the light, filtered through leaves, made everything look like a memory, the green so vibrant it seemed to pulse with life.At the base of the col, the path opened onto a wide terrace that sloped gently toward a valley basin. The terrace was a patchwork of meadows and low brush, dotted with fields of stone-wheat; the land here had the patient look of places that had fed people for generations. Farther down the terraces clustered old standing stones, each one worn slick by weather and touched with faint lines—marks of some language that time had thinned. When they passed, one of the stones chimed like a low bell and a small flock of tiny, luminescent beetles rose and dipped in a wave of light, their glow a soft cascade that lit the path ahead like a river of stars.They were closer now, closer enough that Luffy, for a moment, let his eyes lift and try to see the shape of Foosha between trees and river. It was still a smudge, but human shapes make a certain rhythm on the land: straight fences, the rectangular glint of a rooftop, the ordered geometry of paths and yards. AO shaded his eyes and squinted. "Two days if we keep a steady trot," he said. His words were neither promise nor forecast—just a map read in a practical voice. Luffy's breath went quick with a small, fierce hope; Uta pressed her palm to her chest in a short, private prayer.The terrace was the island's kindness: a wide, flat pocket where they could rest and dry off before the valley's humidity began to take them. They lay out their packs and let the small sun warm the cloth. Arowsa grazed and flicked its tail, scattering a small shower of silver motes across the grass. The animal's flank steamed gently in the cool. Luffy took off his glove and set it beside him as if offering the hand to the earth; he had a small, awkward conversation with himself in gestures—testing the range of the ankle, flexing the fingers, finding a line between pushing and breaking.Beasts bowed as they passed.A group of slow, stone-backed lizards raised their heads and lowered them in a slow, ceremonial dip that made the ground shiver with a soft chuckle of stone. A brood of featherlings tucked their heads under their wings and unseen, somewhere deep in the terrace, a herd of den-elk lifted and knelt until the earth took the weight of their heads. Even the small things bowed: a ribbon of moss that had clung to an old root shook loose and lay like a green ribbon at their feet.The afternoon fed and repaired them in tiny, practical ways. Uta boiled a thin soup and blew on it to cool it; they ate slowly, in small helpings, tasting more than eating. AO took the black-streaked cloth from his arm and rinsed it; the water turned an odd, dense ink before clearing. Luffy washed his hands in cool water and rolled his shoulders, making a soft sound of effort.Late in the afternoon something moved in the long grass: a column of animals working itself into a procession. They came in a slow, careful line—creatures with long necks and thin, translucent skins that shimmered faintly. When they saw the children they slowed, lowered their heads, and one of the larger ones extended a forelimb to rest it lightly on the ground beside Luffy. It was an old courtesy the island paid: a sharing of weight, a way to say, we acknowledge you passed through our center and carried its wound. For a second the boys felt less like trespassers and more like chosen witnesses.AO watched that scene quietly and then, unexpectedly, brought his hand to the place on his arm where the black blood had pooled. He pressed gently, not to prod but to hold the place as a sacred point. For a moment he was a boy again, not the measured soldier, and his face loosened in a way that made his features almost humane. Luffy noticed and gave him a look that meant nothing like pity and everything like family. He reached out and gave AO's shoulder a small, quick squeeze. AO flinched then let his jaw relax. The three of them sat with the terrace around them—land, animal, and sky like a ring—and the small human tenderness that passed among them made the island seem a gentler place for a breath.As the sun slid, the light changed. Shadows deepened, and a chill came across the terrace. Uta stood and walked away from them a few steps, found a hollow under a small tree, and put her palm to the bark. She closed her eyes and breathed slow. The island listened and answered with a rustle, and from the hollow of her hand she coaxed a tiny mist—ten minutes of rain that smelled like the kind of afternoon she remembered as a child: warm clay and the faint sugar of early fruit. The rain fell only in a narrow circle around her and they sat beneath it like pilgrims at a shrine. The droplets were small and sweet, and when Luffy drank from his cupped hands the water tasted like a memory of his mother's kitchen: plates clanging faintly, a laugh caught in a doorway.The trick was small, part ceremony, part gift, and it left Uta breathless. Her throat hurt when she laughed and the sound cracked, but the small rain had done something practical: the damp warmed Luffy's ankle and loosened some of the tension. The bandage absorbed the damp and Luffy's face eased. AO's eyes softened for the second time that day. Uta, flushed and a little pale, smiled and wiped her mouth.They moved again toward evening, descending into the valley. The path narrowed and the trees closed in like hands. Spider-vines hung like curtains and bowed when Arowsa's flank brushed them; small moths that usually fluttered in dizzy storms clustered in the folds and lay still until the procession had moved by. There were places deep in the valley where the light, filtered through leaves, made everything look like a memory, the green so vibrant it seemed to pulse with life.At the base of the col, the path opened onto a wide terrace that sloped gently toward a valley basin. The terrace was a patchwork of meadows and low brush, dotted with fields of stone-wheat; the land here had the patient look of places that had fed people for generations. Farther down the terraces clustered old standing stones, each one worn slick by weather and touched with faint lines—marks of some language that time had thinned. When they passed, one of the stones chimed like a low bell and a small flock of tiny, luminescent beetles rose and dipped in a wave of light.They were closer now, closer enough that Luffy, for a moment, let his eyes lift and try to see the shape of Foosha between trees and river. It was still a smudge, but human shapes make a certain rhythm on the land: straight fences, the rectangular glint of a rooftop, the ordered geometry of paths and yards. AO shaded his eyes and squinted. "Two days if we keep a steady trot," he said. His words were neither promise nor forecast—just a map read in a practical voice. Luffy's breath went quick with a small, fierce hope; Uta pressed her palm to her chest in a short, private prayer.The terrace was the island's kindness: a wide, flat pocket where they could rest and dry off before the valley's humidity began to take them. They lay out their packs and let the small sun warm the cloth. Arowsa grazed and flicked its tail, scattering a small shower of silver motes across the grass. The animal's flank steamed gently in the cool. Luffy took off his glove and set it beside him as if offering the hand to the earth; he had a small, awkward conversation with himself in gestures—testing the range of the ankle, flexing the fingers, finding a line between pushing and breaking.Beasts bowed as they passed.A group of slow, stone-backed lizards raised their heads and lowered them in a slow, ceremonial dip that made the ground shiver with a soft chuckle of stone. A brood of featherlings tucked their heads under their wings and unseen, somewhere deep in the terrace, a herd of den-elk lifted and knelt until the earth took the weight of their heads. Even the small things bowed: a ribbon of moss that had clung to an old root shook loose and lay like a green ribbon at their feet.The afternoon fed and repaired them in tiny, practical ways. Uta boiled a thin soup and blew on it to cool it; they ate slowly, in small helpings, tasting more than eating. AO took the black-streaked cloth from his arm and rinsed it; the water turned an odd, dense ink before clearing. Luffy washed his hands in cool water and rolled his shoulders, making a soft sound of effort.Late in the afternoon something moved in the long grass: a column of animals working itself into a procession. They came in a slow, careful line—creatures with long necks and thin, translucent skins that shimmered faintly. When they saw the children they slowed, lowered their heads, and one of the larger ones extended a forelimb to rest it lightly on the ground beside Luffy. It was an old courtesy the island paid: a sharing of weight, a way to say, we acknowledge you passed through our center and carried its wound. For a second the boys felt less like trespassers and more like chosen witnesses.AO watched that scene quietly and then, unexpectedly, brought his hand to the place on his arm where the black blood had pooled. He pressed gently, not to prod but to hold the place as a sacred point. For a moment he was a boy again, not the measured soldier, and his face loosened in a way that made his features almost humane. Luffy noticed and gave him a look that meant nothing like pity and everything like family. He reached out and gave AO's shoulder a small, quick squeeze. AO flinched then let his jaw relax. The three of them sat with the terrace around them—land, animal, and sky like a ring—and the small human tenderness that passed among them made the island seem a gentler place for a breath.As the sun slid, the light changed. Shadows deepened, and a chill came across the terrace. Uta stood and walked away from them a few steps, found a hollow under a small tree, and put her palm to the bark. She closed her eyes and breathed slow. The island listened and answered with a rustle, and from the hollow of her hand she coaxed a tiny mist—ten minutes of rain that smelled like the kind of afternoon she remembered as a child: warm clay and the faint sugar of early fruit. The rain fell only in a narrow circle around her and they sat beneath it like pilgrims at a shrine. The droplets were small and sweet, and when Luffy drank from his cupped hands the water tasted like a memory of his mother's kitchen: plates clanging faintly, a laugh caught in a doorway.The trick was small, part ceremony, part gift, and it left Uta breathless. Her throat hurt when she laughed and the sound cracked, but the small rain had done something practical: the damp warmed Luffy's ankle and loosened some of the tension. The bandage absorbed the damp and Luffy's face eased. AO's eyes softened for the second time that day. Uta, flushed and a little pale, smiled and wiped her mouth.They moved again toward evening, descending into the valley. The path narrowed and the trees closed in like hands. Spider-vines hung like curtains and bowed when Arowsa's flank brushed them; small moths that usually fluttered in dizzy storms clustered in the folds and lay still until the procession had moved by. There were places deep in the valley where the light, filtered through leaves, made everything look like a memory, the green so vibrant it seemed to pulse with life.At the base of the col, the path opened onto a wide terrace that sloped gently toward a valley basin. The terrace was a patchwork of meadows and low brush, dotted with fields of stone-wheat; the land here had the patient look of places that had fed people for generations. Farther down the terraces clustered old standing stones, each one worn slick by weather and touched with faint lines—marks of some language that time had thinned. When they passed, one of the stones chimed like a low bell and a small flock of tiny, luminescent beetles rose and dipped in a wave of light.They were closer now, closer enough that Luffy, for a moment, let his eyes lift and try to see the shape of Foosha between trees and river. It was still a smudge, but human shapes make a certain rhythm on the land: straight fences, the rectangular glint of a rooftop, the ordered geometry of paths and yards. AO shaded his eyes and squinted. "Two days if we keep a steady trot," he said. His words were neither promise nor forecast—just a map read in a practical voice. Luffy's breath went quick with a small, fierce hope; Uta pressed her palm to her chest in a short, private prayer.The terrace was the island's kindness: a wide, flat pocket where they could rest and dry off before the valley's humidity began to take them. They lay out their packs and let the small sun warm the cloth. Arowsa grazed and flicked its tail, scattering a small shower of silver motes across the grass. The animal's flank steamed gently in the cool. Luffy took off his glove and set it beside him as if offering the hand to the earth; he had a small, awkward conversation with himself in gestures—testing the range of the ankle, flexing the fingers, finding a line between pushing and breaking.Beasts bowed as they passed.A group of slow, stone-backed lizards raised their heads and lowered them in a slow, ceremonial dip that made the ground shiver with a soft chuckle of stone. A brood of featherlings tucked their heads under their wings and unseen, somewhere deep in the terrace, a herd of den-elk lifted and knelt until the earth took the weight of their heads. Even the small things bowed: a ribbon of moss that had clung to an old root shook loose and lay like a green ribbon at their feet.The afternoon fed and repaired them in tiny, practical ways. Uta boiled a thin soup and blew on it to cool it; they ate slowly, in small helpings, tasting more than eating. AO took the black-streaked cloth from his arm and rinsed it; the water turned an odd, dense ink before clearing. Luffy washed his hands in cool water and rolled his shoulders, making a soft sound of effort.Late in the afternoon something moved in the long grass: a column of animals working itself into a procession. They came in a slow, careful line—creatures with long necks and thin, translucent skins that shimmered faintly. When they saw the children they slowed, lowered their heads, and one of the larger ones extended a forelimb to rest it lightly on the ground beside Luffy. It was an old courtesy the island paid: a sharing of weight, a way to say, we acknowledge you passed through our center and carried its wound. For a second the boys felt less like trespassers and more like chosen witnesses.AO watched that scene quietly and then, unexpectedly, brought his hand to the place on his arm where the black blood had pooled. He pressed gently, not to prod but to hold the place as a sacred point. For a moment he was a boy again, not the measured soldier, and his face loosened in a way that made his features almost humane. Luffy noticed and gave him a look that meant nothing like pity and everything like family. He reached out and gave AO's shoulder a small, quick squeeze. AO flinched then let his jaw relax. The three of them sat with the terrace around them—land, animal, and sky like a ring—and the small human tenderness that passed among them made the island seem a gentler place for a breath.As the sun slid, the light changed. Shadows deepened, and a chill came across the terrace. Uta stood and walked away from them a few steps, found a hollow under a small tree, and put her palm to the bark. She closed her eyes and breathed slow. The island listened and answered with a rustle, and from the hollow of her hand she coaxed a tiny mist—ten minutes of rain that smelled like the kind of afternoon she remembered as a child: warm clay and the faint sugar of early fruit. The rain fell only in a narrow circle around her and they sat beneath it like pilgrims at a shrine. The droplets were small and sweet, and when Luffy drank from his cupped hands the water tasted like a memory of his mother's kitchen: plates clanging faintly, a laugh caught in a doorway.The trick was small, part ceremony, part gift, and it left Uta breathless. Her throat hurt when she laughed and the sound cracked, but the small rain had done something practical: the damp warmed Luffy's ankle and loosened some of the tension. The bandage absorbed the damp and Luffy's face eased. AO's eyes softened for the second time that day. Uta, flushed and a little pale, smiled and wiped her mouth.They moved again toward evening, descending into the valley. The path narrowed and the trees closed in like hands. Spider-vines hung like curtains and bowed when Arowsa's flank brushed them; small moths that usually fluttered in dizzy storms clustered in the folds and lay still until the procession had moved by. There were places deep in the valley where the light, filtered through leaves, made everything look like a memory, the green so vibrant it seemed to pulse with life.At the base of the col, the path opened onto a wide terrace that sloped gently toward a valley basin. The terrace was a patchwork of meadows and low brush, dotted with fields of stone-wheat; the land here had the patient look of places that had fed people for generations. Farther down the terraces clustered old standing stones, each one worn slick by weather and touched with faint lines—marks of some language that time had thinned. When they passed, one of the stones chimed like a low bell and a small flock of tiny, luminescent beetles rose and dipped in a wave of light.They were closer now, closer enough that Luffy, for a moment, let his eyes lift and try to see the shape of Foosha between trees and river. It was still a smudge, but human shapes make a certain rhythm on the land: straight fences, the rectangular glint of a rooftop, the ordered geometry of paths and yards. AO shaded his eyes and squinted. "Two days if we keep a steady trot," he said. His words were neither promise nor forecast—just a map read in a practical voice. Luffy's breath went quick with a small, fierce hope; Uta pressed her palm to her chest in a short, private prayer.The terrace was the island's kindness: a wide, flat pocket where they could rest and dry off before the valley's humidity began to take them. They lay out their packs and let the small sun warm the cloth. Arowsa grazed and flicked its tail, scattering a small shower of silver motes across the grass. The animal's flank steamed gently in the cool. Luffy took off his glove and set it beside him as if offering the hand to the earth; he had a small, awkward conversation with himself in gestures—testing the range of the ankle, flexing the fingers, finding a line between pushing and breaking.Beasts bowed as they passed.A group of slow, stone-backed lizards raised their heads and lowered them in a slow, ceremonial dip that made the ground shiver with a soft chuckle of stone. A brood of featherlings tucked their heads under their wings and unseen, somewhere deep in the terrace, a herd of den-elk lifted and knelt until the earth took the weight of their heads. Even the small things bowed: a ribbon of moss that had clung to an old root shook loose and lay like a green ribbon at their feet.The afternoon fed and repaired them in tiny, practical ways. Uta boiled a thin soup and blew on it to cool it; they ate slowly, in small helpings, tasting more than eating. AO took the black-streaked cloth from his arm and rinsed it; the water turned an odd, dense ink before clearing. Luffy washed his hands in cool water and rolled his shoulders, making a soft sound of effort.Late in the afternoon something moved in the long grass: a column of animals working itself into a procession. They came in a slow, careful line—creatures with long necks and thin, translucent skins that shimmered faintly. When they saw the children they slowed, lowered their heads, and one of the larger ones extended a forelimb to rest it lightly on the ground beside Luffy. It was an old courtesy the island paid: a sharing of weight, a way to say, we acknowledge you passed through our center and carried its wound. For a second the boys felt less like trespassers and more like chosen witnesses.AO watched that scene quietly and then, unexpectedly, brought his hand to the place on his arm where the black blood had pooled. He pressed gently, not to prod but to hold the place as a sacred point. For a moment he was a boy again, not the measured soldier, and his face loosened in a way that made his features almost humane. Luffy noticed and gave him a look that meant nothing like pity and everything like family. He reached out and gave AO's shoulder a small, quick squeeze. AO flinched then let his jaw relax. The three of them sat with the terrace around them—land, animal, and sky like a ring—and the small human tenderness that passed among them made the island seem a gentler place for a breath.As the sun slid, the light changed. Shadows deepened, and a chill came across the terrace. Uta stood and walked away from them a few steps, found a hollow under a small tree, and put her palm to the bark. She closed her eyes and breathed slow. The island listened and answered with a rustle, and from the hollow of her hand she coaxed a tiny mist—ten minutes of rain that smelled like the kind of afternoon she remembered as a child: warm clay and the faint sugar of early fruit. The rain fell only in a narrow circle around her and they sat beneath it like pilgrims at a shrine. The droplets were small and sweet, and when Luffy drank from his cupped hands the water tasted like a memory of his mother's kitchen: plates clanging faintly, a laugh caught in a doorway.The trick was small, part ceremony, part gift, and it left Uta breathless. Her throat hurt when she laughed and the sound cracked, but the small rain had done something practical: the damp warmed Luffy's ankle and loosened some of the tension. The bandage absorbed the damp and Luffy's face eased. AO's eyes softened for the second time that day. Uta, flushed and a little pale, smiled and wiped her mouth.They moved again toward evening, descending into the valley. The path narrowed and the trees closed in like hands. Spider-vines hung like curtains and bowed when Arowsa's flank brushed them; small moths that usually fluttered in dizzy storms clustered in the folds and lay still until the procession had moved by. There were places deep in the valley where the light, filtered through leaves, made everything look like a memory, the green so vibrant it seemed to pulse with life.At the base of the col, the path opened onto a wide terrace that sloped gently toward a valley basin. The terrace was a patchwork of meadows and low brush, dotted with fields of stone-wheat; the land here had the patient look of places that had fed people for generations. Farther down the terraces clustered old standing stones, each one worn slick by weather and touched with faint lines—marks of some language that time had thinned. When they passed, one of the stones chimed like a low bell and a small flock of tiny, luminescent beetles rose and dipped in a wave of light.They were closer now, closer enough that Luffy, for a moment, let his eyes lift and try to see the shape of Foosha between trees and river. It was still a smudge, but human shapes make a certain rhythm on the land: straight fences, the rectangular glint of a rooftop, the ordered geometry of paths and yards. AO shaded his eyes and squinted. "Two days if we keep a steady trot," he said. His words were neither promise nor forecast—just a map read in a practical voice. Luffy's breath went quick with a small, fierce hope; Uta pressed her palm to her chest in a short, private prayer.The terrace was the island's kindness: a wide, flat pocket where they could rest and dry off before the valley's humidity began to take them. They lay out their packs and let the small sun warm the cloth. Arowsa grazed and flicked its tail, scattering a small shower of silver motes across the grass. The animal's flank steamed gently in the cool. Luffy took off his glove and set it beside him as if offering the hand to the earth; he had a small, awkward conversation with himself in gestures—testing the range of the ankle, flexing the fingers, finding a line between pushing and breaking.Beasts bowed as they passed.A group of slow, stone-backed lizards raised their heads and lowered them in a slow, ceremonial dip that made the ground shiver with a soft chuckle of stone. A brood of featherlings tucked their heads under their wings and unseen, somewhere deep in the terrace, a herd of den-elk lifted and knelt until the earth took the weight of their heads. Even the small things bowed: a ribbon of moss that had clung to an old root shook loose and lay like a green ribbon at their feet.The afternoon fed and repaired them in tiny, practical ways. Uta boiled a thin soup and blew on it to cool it; they ate slowly, in small helpings, tasting more than eating. AO took the black-streaked cloth from his arm and rinsed it; the water turned an odd, dense ink before clearing. Luffy washed his hands in cool water and rolled his shoulders, making a soft sound of effort.Late in the afternoon something moved in the long grass: a column of animals working itself into a procession. They came in a slow, careful line—creatures with long necks and thin, translucent skins that shimmered faintly. When they saw the children they slowed, lowered their heads, and one of the larger ones extended a forelimb to rest it lightly on the ground beside Luffy. It was an old courtesy the island paid: a sharing of weight, a way to say, we acknowledge you passed through our center and carried its wound. For a second the boys felt less like trespassers and more like chosen witnesses.AO watched that scene quietly and then, unexpectedly, brought his hand to the place on his arm where the black blood had pooled. He pressed gently, not to prod but to hold the place as a sacred point. For a moment he was a boy again, not the measured soldier, and his face loosened in a way that made his features almost humane. Luffy noticed and gave him a look that meant nothing like pity and everything like family. He reached out and gave AO's shoulder a small, quick squeeze. AO flinched then let his jaw relax. The three of them sat with the terrace around them—land, animal, and sky like a ring—and the small human tenderness that passed among them made the island seem a gentler place for a breath.As the sun slid, the light changed. Shadows deepened, and a chill came across the terrace. Uta stood and walked away from them a few steps, found a hollow under a small tree, and put her palm to the bark. She closed her eyes and breathed slow. The island listened and answered with a rustle, and from the hollow of her hand she coaxed a tiny mist—ten minutes of rain that smelled like the kind of afternoon she remembered as a child: warm clay and the faint sugar of early fruit. The rain fell only in a narrow circle around her and they sat beneath it like pilgrims at a shrine. The droplets were small and sweet, and when Luffy drank from his cupped hands the water tasted like a memory of his mother's kitchen: plates clanging faintly, a laugh caught in a doorway.The trick was small, part ceremony, part gift, and it left Uta breathless. Her throat hurt when she laughed and the sound cracked, but the small rain had done something practical: the damp warmed Luffy's ankle and loosened some of the tension. The bandage absorbed the damp and Luffy's face eased. AO's eyes softened for the second time that day. Uta, flushed and a little pale, smiled and wiped her mouth.They moved again toward evening, descending into the valley. The path narrowed and the trees closed in like hands. Spider-vines hung like curtains and bowed when Arowsa's flank brushed them; small moths that usually fluttered in dizzy storms clustered in the folds and lay still until the procession had moved by. There were places deep in the valley where the light, filtered through leaves, made everything look like a memory, the green so vibrant it seemed to pulse with life.At the base of the col, the path opened onto a wide terrace that sloped gently toward a valley basin. The terrace was a patchwork of meadows and low brush, dotted with fields of stone-wheat; the land here had the patient look of places that had fed people for generations. Farther down the terraces clustered old standing stones, each one worn slick by weather and touched with faint lines—marks of some language that time had thinned. When they passed, one of the stones chimed like a low bell and a small flock of tiny, luminescent beetles rose and dipped in a wave of light.They were closer now, closer enough that Luffy, for a moment, let his eyes lift and try to see the shape of Foosha between trees and river. It was still a smudge, but human shapes make a certain rhythm on the land: straight fences, the rectangular glint of a rooftop, the ordered geometry of paths and yards. AO shaded his eyes and squinted. "Two days if we keep a steady trot," he said. His words were neither promise nor forecast—just a map read in a practical voice. Luffy's breath went quick with a small, fierce hope; Uta pressed her palm to her chest in a short, private prayer.The terrace was the island's kindness: a wide, flat pocket where they could rest and dry off before the valley's humidity began to take them. They lay out their packs and let the small sun warm the cloth. Arowsa grazed and flicked its tail, scattering a small shower of silver motes across the grass. The animal's flank steamed gently in the cool. Luffy took off his glove and set it beside him as if offering the hand to the earth; he had a small, awkward conversation with himself in gestures—testing the range of the ankle, flexing the fingers, finding a line between pushing and breaking.Beasts bowed as they passed.A group of slow, stone-backed lizards raised their heads and lowered them in a slow, ceremonial dip that made the ground shiver with a soft chuckle of stone. A brood of featherlings tucked their heads under their wings and unseen, somewhere deep in the terrace, a herd of den-elk lifted and knelt until the earth took the weight of their heads. Even the small things bowed: a ribbon of moss that had clung to an old root shook loose and lay like a green ribbon at their feet.The afternoon fed and repaired them in tiny, practical ways. Uta boiled a thin soup and blew on it to cool it; they ate slowly, in small helpings, tasting more than eating. AO took the black-streaked cloth from his arm and rinsed it; the water turned an odd, dense ink before clearing. Luffy washed his hands in cool water and rolled his shoulders, making a soft sound of effort.Late in the afternoon something moved in the long grass: a column of animals working itself into a procession. They came in a slow, careful line—creatures with long necks and thin, translucent skins that shimmered faintly. When they saw the children they slowed, lowered their heads, and one of the larger ones extended a forelimb to rest it lightly on the ground beside Luffy. It was an old courtesy the island paid: a sharing of weight, a way to say, we acknowledge you passed through our center and carried its wound. For a second the boys felt less like trespassers and more like chosen witnesses.AO watched that scene quietly and then, unexpectedly, brought his hand to the place on his arm where the black blood had pooled. He pressed gently, not to prod but to hold the place as a sacred point. For a moment he was a boy again, not the measured soldier, and his face loosened in a way that made his features almost humane. Luffy noticed and gave him a look that meant nothing like pity and everything like family. He reached out and gave AO's shoulder a small, quick squeeze. AO flinched then let his jaw relax. The three of them sat with the terrace around them—land, animal, and sky like a ring—and the small human tenderness that passed among them made the island seem a gentler place for a breath.As the sun slid, the light changed. Shadows deepened, and a chill came across the terrace. Uta stood and walked away from them a few steps, found a hollow under a small tree, and put her palm to the bark. She closed her eyes and breathed slow. The island listened and answered with a rustle, and from the hollow of her hand she coaxed a tiny mist—ten minutes of rain that smelled like the kind of afternoon she remembered as a child: warm clay and the faint sugar of early fruit. The rain fell only in a narrow circle around her and they sat beneath it like pilgrims at a shrine. The droplets were small and sweet, and when Luffy drank from his cupped hands the water tasted like a memory of his mother's kitchen: plates clanging faintly, a laugh caught in a doorway.The trick was small, part ceremony, part gift, and it left Uta breathless. Her throat hurt when she laughed and the sound cracked, but the small rain had done something practical: the damp warmed Luffy's ankle and loosened some of the tension. The bandage absorbed the damp and Luffy's face eased. AO's eyes softened for the second time that day. Uta, flushed and a little pale, smiled and wiped her mouth.They moved again toward evening, descending into the valley. The path narrowed and the trees closed in like hands. Spider-vines hung like curtains and bowed when Arowsa's flank brushed them; small moths that usually fluttered in dizzy storms clustered in the folds and lay still until the procession had moved by. There were places deep in the valley where the light, filtered through leaves, made everything look like a memory, the green so vibrant it seemed to pulse with life.At the base of the col, the path opened onto a wide terrace that sloped gently toward a valley basin. The terrace was a patchwork of meadows and low brush, dotted with fields of stone-wheat; the land here had the patient look of places that had fed people for generations. Farther down the terraces clustered old standing stones, each one worn slick by weather and touched with faint lines—marks of some language that time had thinned. When they passed, one of the stones chimed like a low bell and a small flock of tiny, luminescent beetles rose and dipped in a wave of light.They were closer now, closer enough that Luffy, for a moment, let his eyes lift and try to see the shape of Foosha between trees and river. It was still a smudge, but human shapes make a certain rhythm on the land: straight fences, the rectangular glint of a rooftop, the ordered geometry of paths and yards. AO shaded his eyes and squinted. "Two days if we keep a steady trot," he said. His words were neither promise nor forecast—just a map read in a practical voice. Luffy's breath went quick with a small, fierce hope; Uta pressed her palm to her chest in a short, private prayer.The terrace was the island's kindness: a wide, flat pocket where they could rest and dry off before the valley's humidity began to take them. They lay out their packs and let the small sun warm the cloth. Arowsa grazed and flicked its tail, scattering a small shower of silver motes across the grass. The animal's flank steamed gently in the cool. Luffy took off his glove and set it beside him as if offering the hand to the earth; he had a small, awkward conversation with himself in gestures—testing the range of the ankle, flexing the fingers, finding a line between pushing and breaking.Beasts bowed as they passed.A group of slow, stone-backed lizards raised their heads and lowered them in a slow, ceremonial dip that made the ground shiver with a soft chuckle of stone. A brood of featherlings tucked their heads under their wings and unseen, somewhere deep in the terrace, a herd of den-elk lifted and knelt until the earth took the weight of their heads. Even the small things bowed: a ribbon of moss that had clung to an old root shook loose and lay like a green ribbon at their feet.The afternoon fed and repaired them in tiny, practical ways. Uta boiled a thin soup and blew on it to cool it; they ate slowly, in small helpings, tasting more than eating. AO took the black-streaked cloth from his arm and rinsed it; the water turned an odd, dense ink before clearing. Luffy washed his hands in cool water and rolled his shoulders, making a soft sound of effort.Late in the afternoon something moved in the long grass: a column of animals working itself into a procession. They came in a slow, careful line—creatures with long necks and thin, translucent skins that shimmered faintly. When they saw the children they slowed, lowered their heads, and one of the larger ones extended a forelimb to rest it lightly on the ground beside Luffy. It was an old courtesy the island paid: a sharing of weight, a way to say, we acknowledge you passed through our center and carried its wound. For a second the boys felt less like trespassers and more like chosen witnesses.AO watched that scene quietly and then, unexpectedly, brought his hand to the place on his arm where the black blood had pooled. He pressed gently, not to prod but to hold the place as a sacred point. For a moment he was a boy again, not the measured soldier, and his face loosened in a way that made his features almost humane. Luffy noticed and gave him a look that meant nothing like pity and everything like family. He reached out and gave AO's shoulder a small, quick squeeze. AO flinched then let his jaw relax. The three of them sat with the terrace around them—land, animal, and sky like a ring—and the small human tenderness that passed among them made the island seem a gentler place for a breath.As the sun slid, the light changed. Shadows deepened, and a chill came across the terrace. Uta stood and walked away from them a few steps, found a hollow under a small tree, and put her palm to the bark. She closed her eyes and breathed slow. The island listened and answered with a rustle, and from the hollow of her hand she coaxed a tiny mist—ten minutes of rain that smelled like the kind of afternoon she remembered as a child: warm clay and the faint sugar of early fruit. The rain fell only in a narrow circle around her and they sat beneath it like pilgrims at a shrine. The droplets were small and sweet, and when Luffy drank from his cupped hands the water tasted like a memory of his mother's kitchen: plates clanging faintly, a laugh caught in a doorway.The trick was small, part ceremony, part gift, and it left Uta breathless. Her throat hurt when she laughed and the sound cracked, but the small rain had done something practical: the damp warmed Luffy's ankle and loosened some of the tension. The bandage absorbed the damp and Luffy's face eased. AO's eyes softened for the second time that day. Uta, flushed and a little pale, smiled and wiped her mouth.They moved again toward evening, descending into the valley. The path narrowed and the trees closed in like hands. Spider-vines hung like curtains and bowed when Arowsa's flank brushed them; small moths that usually fluttered in dizzy storms clustered in the folds and lay still until the procession had moved by. There were places deep in the valley where the light, filtered through leaves, made everything look like a memory, the green so vibrant it seemed to pulse with life.At the base of the col, the path opened onto a wide terrace that sloped gently toward a valley basin. The terrace was a patchwork of meadows and low brush, dotted with fields of stone-wheat; the land here had the patient look of places that had fed people for generations. Farther down the terraces clustered old standing stones, each one worn slick by weather and touched with faint lines—marks of some language that time had thinned. When they passed, one of the stones chimed like a low bell and a small flock of tiny, luminescent beetles rose and dipped in a wave of light.They were closer now, closer enough that Luffy, for a moment, let his eyes lift and try to see the shape of Foosha between trees and river. It was still a smudge, but human shapes make a certain rhythm on the land: straight fences, the rectangular glint of a rooftop, the ordered geometry of paths and yards. AO shaded his eyes and squinted. "Two days if we keep a steady trot," he said. His words were neither promise nor forecast—just a map read in a practical voice. Luffy's breath went quick with a small, fierce hope; Uta pressed her palm to her chest in a short, private prayer.The terrace was the island's kindness: a wide, flat pocket where they could rest and dry off before the valley's humidity began to take them. They lay out their packs and let the small sun warm the cloth. Arowsa grazed and flicked its tail, scattering a small shower of silver motes across the grass. The animal's flank steamed gently in the cool. Luffy took off his glove and set it beside him as if offering the hand to the earth; he had a small, awkward conversation with himself in gestures—testing the range of the ankle, flexing the fingers, finding a line between pushing and breaking.Beasts bowed as they passed.A group of slow, stone-backed lizards raised their heads and lowered them in a slow, ceremonial dip that made the ground shiver with a soft chuckle of stone. A brood of featherlings tucked their heads under their wings and unseen, somewhere deep in the terrace, a herd of den-elk lifted and knelt until the earth took the weight of their heads. Even the small things bowed: a ribbon of moss that had clung to an old root shook loose and lay like a green ribbon at their feet.The afternoon fed and repaired them in tiny, practical ways. Uta boiled a thin soup and blew on it to cool it; they ate slowly, in small helpings, tasting more than eating. AO took the black-streaked cloth from his arm and rinsed it; the water turned an odd, dense ink before clearing. Luffy washed his hands in cool water and rolled his shoulders, making a soft sound of effort.Late in the afternoon something moved in the long grass: a column of animals working itself into a procession. They came in a slow, careful line—creatures with long necks and thin, translucent skins that shimmered faintly. When they saw the children they slowed, lowered their heads, and one of the larger ones extended a forelimb to rest it lightly on the ground beside Luffy. It was an old courtesy the island paid: a sharing of weight, a way to say, we acknowledge you passed through our center and carried its wound. For a second the boys felt less like trespassers and more like chosen witnesses.AO watched that scene quietly and then, unexpectedly, brought his hand to the place on his arm where the black blood had pooled. He pressed gently, not to prod but to hold the place as a sacred point. For a moment he was a boy again, not the measured soldier, and his face loosened in a way that made his features almost humane. Luffy noticed and gave him a look that meant nothing like pity and everything like family. He reached out and gave AO's shoulder a small, quick squeeze. AO flinched then let his jaw relax. The three of them sat with the terrace around them—land, animal, and sky like a ring—and the small human tenderness that passed among them made the island seem a gentler place for a breath.As the sun slid, the light changed. Shadows deepened, and a chill came across the terrace. Uta stood and walked away from them a few steps, found a hollow under a small tree, and put her palm to the bark. She closed her eyes and breathed slow. The island listened and answered with a rustle, and from the hollow of her hand she coaxed a tiny mist—ten minutes of rain that smelled like the kind of afternoon she remembered as a child: warm clay and the faint sugar of early fruit. The rain fell only in a narrow circle around her and they sat beneath it like pilgrims at a shrine. The droplets were small and sweet, and when Luffy drank from his cupped hands the water tasted like a memory of his mother's kitchen: plates clanging faintly, a laugh caught in a doorway.The trick was small, part ceremony, part gift, and it left Uta breathless. Her throat hurt when she laughed and the sound cracked, but the small rain had done something practical: the damp warmed Luffy's ankle and loosened some of the tension. The bandage absorbed the damp and Luffy's face eased. AO's eyes softened for the second time that day. Uta, flushed and a little pale, smiled and wiped her mouth.They moved again toward evening, descending into the valley. The path narrowed and the trees closed in like hands. Spider-vines hung like curtains and bowed when Arowsa's flank brushed them; small moths that usually fluttered in dizzy storms clustered in the folds and lay still until the procession had moved by. There were places deep in the valley where the light, filtered through leaves, made everything look like a memory, the green so vibrant it seemed to pulse with life.At the base of the col, the path opened onto a wide terrace that sloped gently toward a valley basin. The terrace was a patchwork of meadows and low brush, dotted with fields of stone-wheat; the land here had the patient look of places that had fed people for generations. Farther down the terraces clustered old standing stones, each one worn slick by weather and touched with faint lines—marks of some language that time had thinned. When they passed, one of the stones chimed like a low bell and a small flock of tiny, luminescent beetles rose and dipped in a wave of light.They were closer now, closer enough that Luffy, for a moment, let his eyes lift and try to see the shape of Foosha between trees and river. It was still a smudge, but human shapes make a certain rhythm on the land: straight fences, the rectangular glint of a rooftop, the ordered geometry of paths and yards. AO shaded his eyes and squinted. "Two days if we keep a steady trot," he said. His words were neither promise nor forecast—just a map read in a practical voice. Luffy's breath went quick with a small, fierce hope; Uta pressed her palm to her chest in a short, private prayer.The terrace was the island's kindness: a wide, flat pocket where they could rest and dry off before the valley's humidity began to take them. They lay out their packs and let the small sun warm the cloth. Arowsa grazed and flicked its tail, scattering a small shower of silver motes across the grass. The animal's flank steamed gently in the cool. Luffy took off his glove and set it beside him as if offering the hand to the earth; he had a small, awkward conversation with himself in gestures—testing the range of the ankle, flexing the fingers, finding a line between pushing and breaking.Beasts bowed as they passed.A group of slow, stone-backed lizards raised their heads and lowered them in a slow, ceremonial dip that made the ground shiver with a soft chuckle of stone. A brood of featherlings tucked their heads under their wings and unseen, somewhere deep in the terrace, a herd of den-elk lifted and knelt until the earth took the weight of their heads. Even the small things bowed: a ribbon of moss that had clung to an old root shook loose and lay like a green ribbon at their feet.The afternoon fed and repaired them in tiny, practical ways. Uta boiled a thin soup and blew on it to cool it; they ate slowly, in small helpings, tasting more than eating. AO took the black-streaked cloth from his arm and rinsed it; the water turned an odd, dense ink before clearing. Luffy washed his hands in cool water and rolled his shoulders, making a soft sound of effort.Late in the afternoon something moved in the long grass: a column of animals working itself into a procession. They came in a slow, careful line—creatures with long necks and thin, translucent skins that shimmered faintly. When they saw the children they slowed, lowered their heads, and one of the larger ones extended a forelimb to rest it lightly on the ground beside Luffy. It was an old courtesy the island paid: a sharing of weight, a way to say, we acknowledge you passed through our center and carried its wound. For a second the boys felt less like trespassers and more like chosen witnesses.AO watched that scene quietly and then, unexpectedly, brought his hand to the place on his arm where the black blood had pooled. He pressed gently, not to prod but to hold the place as a sacred point. For a moment he was a boy again, not the measured soldier, and his face loosened in a way that made his features almost humane. Luffy noticed and gave him a look that meant nothing like pity and everything like family. He reached out and gave AO's shoulder a small, quick squeeze. AO flinched then let his jaw relax. The three of them sat with the terrace around them—land, animal, and sky like a ring—and the small human tenderness that passed among them made the island seem a gentler place for a breath.As the sun slid, the light changed. Shadows deepened, and a chill came across the terrace. Uta stood and walked away from them a few steps, found a hollow under a small tree, and put her palm to the bark. She closed her eyes and breathed slow. The island listened and answered with a rustle, and from the hollow of her hand she coaxed a tiny mist—ten minutes of rain that smelled like the kind of afternoon she remembered as a child: warm clay and the faint sugar of early fruit. The rain fell only in a narrow circle around her and they sat beneath it like pilgrims at a shrine. The droplets were small and sweet, and when Luffy drank from his cupped hands the water tasted like a memory of his mother's kitchen: plates clanging faintly, a laugh caught in a doorway.The trick was small, part ceremony, part gift, and it left Uta breathless. Her throat hurt when she laughed and the sound cracked, but the small rain had done something practical: the damp warmed Luffy's ankle and loosened some of the tension. The bandage absorbed the damp and Luffy's face eased. AO's eyes softened for the second time that day. Uta, flushed and a little pale, smiled and wiped her mouth.They moved again toward evening, descending into the valley. The path narrowed and the trees closed in like hands. Spider-vines hung like curtains and bowed when Arowsa's flank brushed them; small moths that usually fluttered in dizzy storms clustered in the folds and lay still until the procession had moved by. There were places deep in the valley where the light, filtered through leaves, made everything look like a memory, the green so vibrant it seemed to pulse with life.At the base of the col, the path opened onto a wide terrace that sloped gently toward a valley basin. The terrace was a patchwork of meadows and low brush, dotted with fields of stone-wheat; the land here had the patient look of places that had fed people for generations. Farther down the terraces clustered old standing stones, each one worn slick by weather and touched with faint lines—marks of some language that time had thinned. When they passed, one of the stones chimed like a low bell and a small flock of tiny, luminescent beetles rose and dipped in a wave of light.They were closer now, closer enough that Luffy, for a moment, let his eyes lift and try to see the shape of Foosha between trees and river. It was still a smudge, but human shapes make a certain rhythm on the land: straight fences, the rectangular glint of a rooftop, the ordered geometry of paths and yards. AO shaded his eyes and squinted. "Two days if we keep a steady trot," he said. His words were neither promise nor forecast—just a map read in a practical voice. Luffy's breath went quick with a small, fierce hope; Uta pressed her palm to her chest in a short, private prayer.The terrace was the island's kindness: a wide, flat pocket where they could rest and dry off before the valley's humidity began to take them. They lay out their packs and let the small sun warm the cloth. Arowsa grazed and flicked its tail, scattering a small shower of silver motes across the grass. The animal's flank steamed gently in the cool. Luffy took off his glove and set it beside him as if offering the hand to the earth; he had a small, awkward conversation with himself in gestures—testing the range of the ankle, flexing the fingers, finding a line between pushing and breaking.Beasts bowed as they passed.A group of slow, stone-backed lizards raised their heads and lowered them in a slow, ceremonial dip that made the ground shiver with a soft chuckle of stone. A brood of featherlings tucked their heads under their wings and unseen, somewhere deep in the terrace, a herd of den-elk lifted and knelt until the earth took the weight of their heads. Even the small things bowed: a ribbon of moss that had clung to an old root shook loose and lay like a green ribbon at their feet.The afternoon fed and repaired them in tiny, practical ways. Uta boiled a thin soup and blew on it to cool it; they ate slowly, in small helpings, tasting more than eating. AO took the black-streaked cloth from his arm and rinsed it; the water turned an odd, dense ink before clearing. Luffy washed his hands in cool water and rolled his shoulders, making a soft sound of effort.Late in the afternoon something moved in the long grass: a column of animals working itself into a procession. They came in a slow, careful line—creatures with long necks and thin, translucent skins that shimmered faintly. When they saw the children they slowed, lowered their heads, and one of the larger ones extended a forelimb to rest it lightly on the ground beside Luffy. It was an old courtesy the island paid: a sharing of weight, a way to say, we acknowledge you passed through our center and carried its wound. For a second the boys felt less like trespassers and more like chosen witnesses.AO watched that scene quietly and then, unexpectedly, brought his hand to the place on his arm where the black blood had pooled. He pressed gently, not to prod but to hold the place as a sacred point. For a moment he was a boy again, not the measured soldier, and his face loosened in a way that made his features almost humane. Luffy noticed and gave him a look that meant nothing like pity and everything like family. He reached out and gave AO's shoulder a small, quick squeeze. AO flinched then let his jaw relax. The three of them sat with the terrace around them—land, animal, and sky like a ring—and the small human tenderness that passed among them made the island seem a gentler place for a breath.As the sun slid, the light changed. Shadows deepened, and a chill came across the terrace. Uta stood and walked away from them a few steps, found a hollow under a small tree, and put her palm to the bark. She closed her eyes and breathed slow. The island listened and answered with a rustle, and from the hollow of her hand she coaxed a tiny mist—ten minutes of rain that smelled like the kind of afternoon she remembered as a child: warm clay and the faint sugar of early fruit. The rain fell only in a narrow circle around her and they sat beneath it like pilgrims at a shrine. The droplets were small and sweet, and when Luffy drank from his cupped hands the water tasted like a memory of his mother's kitchen: plates clanging faintly, a laugh caught in a doorway.The trick was small, part ceremony, part gift, and it left Uta breathless. Her throat hurt when she laughed and the sound cracked, but the small rain had done something practical: the damp warmed Luffy's ankle and loosened some of the tension. The bandage absorbed the damp and Luffy's face eased. AO's eyes softened for the second time that day. Uta, flushed and a little pale, smiled and wiped her mouth.They moved again toward evening, descending into the valley. The path narrowed and the trees closed in like hands. Spider-vines hung like curtains and bowed when Arowsa's flank brushed them; small moths that usually fluttered in dizzy storms clustered in the folds and lay still until the procession had moved by. There were places deep in the valley where the light, filtered through leaves, made everything look like a memory, the green so vibrant it seemed to pulse with life.At the base of the col, the path opened onto a wide terrace that sloped gently toward a valley basin. The terrace was a patchwork of meadows and low brush, dotted with fields of stone-wheat; the land here had the patient look of places that had fed people for generations. Farther down the terraces clustered old standing stones, each one worn slick by weather and touched with faint lines—marks of some language that time had thinned. When they passed, one of the stones chimed like a low bell and a small flock of tiny, luminescent beetles rose and dipped in a wave of light.They were closer now, closer enough that Luffy, for a moment, let his eyes lift and try to see the shape of Foosha between trees and river. It was still a smudge, but human shapes make a certain rhythm on the land: straight fences, the rectangular glint of a rooftop, the ordered geometry of paths and yards. AO shaded his eyes and squinted. "Two days if we keep a steady trot," he said. His words were neither promise nor forecast—just a map read in a practical voice. Luffy's breath went quick with a small, fierce hope; Uta pressed her palm to her chest in a short, private prayer.The terrace was the island's kindness: a wide, flat pocket where they could rest and dry off before the valley's humidity began to take them. They lay out their packs and let the small sun warm the cloth. Arowsa grazed and flicked its tail, scattering a small shower of silver motes across the grass. The animal's flank steamed gently in the cool. Luffy took off his glove and set it beside him as if offering the hand to the earth; he had a small, awkward conversation with himself in gestures—testing the range of the ankle, flexing the fingers, finding a line between pushing and breaking.Beasts bowed as they passed.A group of slow, stone-backed lizards raised their heads and lowered them in a slow, ceremonial dip that made the ground shiver with a soft chuckle of stone. A brood of featherlings tucked their heads under their wings and unseen, somewhere deep in the terrace, a herd of den-elk lifted and knelt until the earth took the weight of their heads. Even the small things bowed: a ribbon of moss that had clung to an old root shook loose and lay like a green ribbon at their feet.The afternoon fed and repaired them in tiny, practical ways. Uta boiled a thin soup and blew on it to cool it; they ate slowly, in small helpings, tasting more than eating. AO took the black-streaked cloth from his arm and rinsed it; the water turned an odd, dense ink before clearing. Luffy washed his hands in cool water and rolled his shoulders, making a soft sound of effort.Late in the afternoon something moved in the long grass: a column of animals working itself into a procession. They came in a slow, careful line—creatures with long necks and thin, translucent skins that shimmered faintly. When they saw the children they slowed, lowered their heads, and one of the larger ones extended a forelimb to rest it lightly on the ground beside Luffy. It was an old courtesy the island paid: a sharing of weight, a way to say, we acknowledge you passed through our center and carried its wound. For a second the boys felt less like trespassers and more like chosen witnesses.AO watched that scene quietly and then, unexpectedly, brought his hand to the place on his arm where the black blood had pooled. He pressed gently, not to prod but to hold the place as a sacred point. For a moment he was a boy again, not the measured soldier, and his face loosened in a way that made his features almost humane. Luffy noticed and gave him a look that meant nothing like pity and everything like family. He reached out and gave AO's shoulder a small, quick squeeze.