“Huh,” Boarhound said, and took a swig of liquor. Ve was drinking right from the bottle now. “You seem halfway clever. You left an offering to any spirits hereabout and you wear stories like a cloak.” Ve patted her back again, this time much more gently. “You’re going to be fine.”

“Right now, it feels like there’s a pit in me,” Orfeus said. She frowned a moment after, not able to recall why it had seemed important not to tell people that.

Boarhound took a hasty second swig then put the bottle down. “Yeah,” ve said. “But one day, you’re going to be fine.” Ve offered her the bottle. She took that and drank, a burn down her mouth and throat.

Dormarch added contently, “Tomorrow you’re going to be sick as hell.”

The second thing most certainly proved true. It was only scant encouragement, clinging to the basin the next morning, that perhaps in time the first would too. The thinnest glimmer of hope, but Orfeus gripped it tight in her hands like a knife-hilt, and would not let go. She was better than this. She would do better than this. One day, one day.

Chapter Nine

We averted the end of the world. How grand and how terrifying: that we had such a capability, and that it was ever so close to coming to pass.

We learned the things we must never do again. We learned that we must be brave and clever and kind, structurally and inescapably kind, or the world will once more be in danger of falling. Communities and countries and people must stand together, and try. Never again can a few elites ride at the top of the world and grind others into the dirt, leaving them little choice but to dig in the ground for poison to burn.

The world will be fairer, and if everyone is just a little kinder, there will be no need for people to take justice into their own hands. I think it is important to remember that by committing an act of violence, the one committing the act is also harmed. It is a lesser injury, but still an injury.

Violence is a part of human nature. Nature itself has been irreparably changed by our effect on this planet. If the very seasons of our Honoured Earth have changed, then so can we. So can I. So can we all.

- Basma of Hollyhock

The Owl’s small med bay was drearily familiar, but at least Orfeus got here on her own two feet this time.

“Even those welts are healing nicely,” Mordrai said cheerfully, stepping back and waving a hand. Orfeus pulled her shirt back down. “The Blood certainly does seem to heal you up faster! At this rate, you should be ready for your first hunt in another few days.” The curly-haired doctor frowned at her and emptied sanitiser over their hands, rubbing them clean. “Try to go easy until then.”