"They will hear of this in the Dustwalls," Zeth said, as if dreaming. "I can see it happen. My grandfather will hear of this from the gods, then he will teach it to our people, then the gods will release him from his shell of life. We will have found ourselves at last. We will be as we should be."

"It is a good day," I repeated, nodding. I felt light, light and strong, eager and pure. I had struggled so long with such simple things. It was so good to let it go.

The human riders charged at us, heads down, swords and axes at their sides, the hooves of their steeds flying through the tall grass. The world grew brighter, sharper, clearer, but I did not look away.

Zeth turned and made a single motion. Arrows hissed from a dozen bows. Horses and men fell. Behind us, warriors began to kill the prisoners in view of their rescuers. A woman screamed in one long howl that rose over us all like a great arch.

Many, many riders were left. They came on faster, growing in size, faces hard as stone. Zeth spread his pale arms to greet them.

It was a beautiful day. The first riders reached our hill, came up the slope, came through our ranks of spears. I ran to meet them with my people, sword high. The feeling touched me again, and I laughed and could not stop.

It felt just like love.