"I wish it wasn't true," Catrin said, and Barabas nodded. His steps were firm as he stormed ahead with purpose, and keeping up with him became a challenge. He said no more as he walked, and Catrin suspected he was too angry to be civil. He so closely resembled a charging bear that it almost frightened her, but she could not blame him. If what she had been taught about the statues were true, then the Zjhon were essentially condemning themselves.

"Do you think there is any way to convince the Zjhon the statue is deadly?" Catrin asked.

"Hmm. There is always the possibility, but I think it highly unlikely one could accomplish it in time. The energy shed by Istra does not pass through rock and soil freely, but some does penetrate, and it's possible the statues will detonate during this pass even if they remain buried. Exposed, they are an immediate threat and could discharge at any moment."

Catrin could find no words to respond. She struggled to find some solution, anything that would prevent massive loss of life, but she doubted they would ever be able to get close to the statue… unless they were in shackles.

The rustling of leaves beneath their feet was the only sound. Some foliage still clung to the trees, but the forest floor was thick with them, and silent movement was nearly impossible. Ahead of them materialized a tree that was larger than most and bore a roughly triangular opening in its trunk. Over the opening hung several skins that had been stitched together, and Barabas pulled them aside.

"Welcome to my abode."

"Beautiful," Catrin said. "It's amazing you found such a tree."

"Amazing? Certainly not. I asked the forest for shelter, and it provided for me-just as it should be," Barabas replied, and her confused look seemed to surprise him. "When I need meat, I ask the herd, and a sacrifice presents itself. If I have need of fire, then the forest provides me wood. Whatever I need of nature, I have but to ask. Too many have forgotten this. They just take what they want from the land without any thought or respect, and they strip her of wealth that cannot be replaced. Surely you remember this at least."

"I'm sorry, Barabas. I've much to learn," she said, and he sighed heavily.

"Truly, heart of the land, you've chosen a trying time to embrace ignorance."

The interior of the tree was as remarkable as its outer appearance. The wood within was polished and richly grained, but most astonishing was the formation of shelves and a sleeping crevice large enough for Barabas. A ring of stones formed a small fire circle in the center of the chamber, and in the domed ceiling, a funneled opening bore a layer of soot. Catrin suspected the opening continued to open air and formed a natural chimney. Little else adorned the relatively small living space, and they stood elbow to elbow as Barabas tucked dried fruits and meats into his pack. He allowed Catrin no more time to contemplate his dwelling as he urged them back into the night.

"We've no time to dally. We can travel within the forest to the center of Astor, and from there, we will need to skirt between smaller areas of woodland. We are certainly not the most conspicuous of bands," he said with a chuckle and immediately set off at a pace that was difficult to match. Catrin's legs burned from the exertion, and she tired long before Barabas. He seemed to sense her fatigue, and not long before she would have had to ask for a rest, he simply stopped and lowered himself to recline against a towering elm. Catrin and Benjin joined him, and they ate in the stillness.

The forest was a riot of scarlet and umber, and the quiet murmur of the life within it was like the heartbeat of the world. Tranquility such as this could not be constructed; it could only grow naturally. All of man's attempts at beauty and grace paled in comparison to the architecture of life. Even creatures that were at times frightening and strange had their own unique elegance. A small lizard scurried through the leaves, and its rough, angular hide so closely resembled tree bark that it could become nearly invisible. Catrin admired the function of its form, and she recognized its beauty, even if the thought of touching it made her skin crawl.

When she considered Barabas, she was faced with an enigma, and she struggled to understand his place in her world. It was not that he seemed out of place. On the contrary, he could almost become a part of the scenery-much like the lizard. Taken out of his element, he was remarkable and unusual, but within his world, he was simply a part of nature. Eventually, her curiosity won out over her fear of being uncouth.

"I mean no insult by this question, Barabas, but may I ask what manner of man you are?" she blurted, and the words did not sound at all like what she had intended. "That is… I mean… You're very different from everyone I've ever met, and I'd like to understand you better." Still, she felt clumsy and rude, but Barabas just let his infectious laugh roll from him, as if he had no such inhibitions or insecurities. She envied him.

"You tickle me, heart of the land. Truly you do. You are wise beyond your years, and yet you've not the knowledge most would require to become wise. It amazes me. Your very existence is a paradox," he said, shaking his head. "Do not fear you will offend me with your questions. I'll answer them as best I can. As to what manner of man I am, some would label me druid, others shaman, and still others see me as a madman. I see myself as a part of life, a piece of the whole. Like a thread in a tapestry, I am not important in and of myself, but without me and the rest of the threads-the tapestry-would cease to exist. Do you understand?"

"I think I do, but how did you come to be this way? Did your parents teach you these things?" she asked, and she was unsettled to see a flash of pain in his eyes.

"The land raised me and provided for me. I never met those who brought me into this world, but men and women have helped me, and they have taught me much. They influenced much of what I am, and I've always tried to take with me the best of all the beings I encounter, just as pieces of you will always go with me from now on. The memory of you is a part of me, and the memories of all my teachers, human and otherwise, are parts of me. The land and the animals have taught me as much, if not more, than my human mentors."

Catrin was not sure she understood any more about Barabas than before she asked, and she hoped his words would make more sense in time.

"We should've brought this thing up in pieces," Strom said through gritted teeth. "We could've assembled it once we got it all up there." Milo and Gustad launched into their usual debate, and Strom was frightened by the fact that he was beginning to understand them. Sometimes he was even tempted to interject his own thoughts, but it just seemed like asking for trouble.

"I'm losing my grip," Osbourne said. "We need to put it down."

"Be careful of the lenses, boys," Gustad said.

"We know. We know," Strom said as they eased the looking glass to the stairs. All of their effort had gone into reconstructing this ancient relic, and though they could see little through the parabolic lenses when in the workshop, Milo remained convinced it would work. He said it had been found atop Limin's Spire, and there it could be used to see the stars. Looking up, Strom gave up trying to count how many more stairs they had left to climb.