Farree stood where his wings had borne him at dawn. He was looking down into the cup valley. They were already aboard. All except two– He glanced down for a moment at what he held, felt the familiar pinch of the legs upon his arm and wrist.

"Cold—" That plaint was familiar too. Togger did not relish the kind of wind about them here in the heights.

"Lady Maelen?" A thought swift sent, an answer.

"Lord One Krip?" A second hail and farewell.

"Lord Zoror—?"

"Only until we come again." The Zacanthan's thought was swift to answer.

Farree watched the flame of the jets, the rise of the ship up and up, out of the cup which had held it, back to the stars.

"Do you truly wish yourself there?"

She had alighted on the grassy surface of the cliff top just too far away for him to be aware of her until the thought wove with his.

"I do not know– Here I am one."

"Here you are kin." Her send was clear and strangely soft. She had folded her wings and now she walked towards him. In her hands was a gathering of ill-bane flowers, and the scent of them was also hers.

"Kin, Kin," she chanted aloud now and each word was like the scented and healing breath of the plant.

Farree threw back his head to the dawn-colored sky. He could only see a very distant trail. Then it was gone.

"Kin!" Atra was beside him and the scent of the flowers brought with it a softening of all sadness.

He no longer searched the sky for the past but looked into the face of the future, and his smile was eager.