They came to a valley filled with very tall Bonran trees, branchless for fifty feet, then spreading out like leafy sunflowers at the top. Johnis remembered the valley well because the flowers were a bright purple and were harvested when they fell to the ground. Their scent was used in many perfumes favored by the women.

What he hadn’t seen the last time he’d passed through this valley were the hundreds of huge, round nests scattered throughout the upper branches. Nor the thousands of fluffy white bats that perched on the branches around those straw nests.

“Roush trees,” Silvie said, gazing upward as Hunter winged up to join the others high above. “They . . . they’re expecting us.”

“Looks that way,” Johnis said.

The Roush lined the branches and hopped about, staring down. Large ones, small ones, babies even, bouncing on thin twigs that didn’t look strong enough to support their fat little bodies. The valley was filled with a cooing that made Johnis want to smile. For a moment he was too awestruck to remember why he’d come. These Roush had been here all along, unseen by any of the Forest Dwellers until now.

“Do you want to climb a tree?” a voice said behind them.

Johnis spun to see Gabil squatting on the forest floor, smirking.

“Can we?” Silvie asked. “I mean, will the branches support our weight?”

“I don’t see why not; they hold twenty of us. Of course, they have been known to break. That’s why we build so high. First, so we’re not stepped on by any beast or human, and second, so that if the branches break, we have time to swoop under the little ones before they smash to the ground. Pretty smart, don’t you think?”

Johnis stared up at the nests—more like small huts with wood platforms that encircled them. Four tiny Roush were jumping with such enthusiasm on a branch directly above them that Johnis thought they might fall.

“You’ll have to forgive them,” Gabil said. “They’ve all heard that you can see them. I also told them that I taught you a few karate moves.”

One of the chicks suddenly jumped from the branch. Then another, apparently not to be outdone by the first. Then two more, screeching as they fell, like four stones.

A large Roush swept in from the left, another from the right, and two more from behind them. As if this was something they did frequently, they effortlessly caught the youngsters on their backs and soared down to a landing next to Johnis and Silvie’s horses.

The six-inch Roushes tumbled from their backs and rolled to their feet.

“Are you Johnis?” one cried.

Johnis was too dumbstruck to answer.

“Johnis, say it, I know you’re Johnis.”

“And Darsal!” another offered, eyes too big for its tiny face.

“Silvie,” she said, grinning wide.