And that was only half of the astonishment. Swarming around the land inside that shallow valley, protected by the sun from the shade of the immense cloud that hung overhead, were hundreds of thousands of Selani. They gathered together in small enclaves separated by huge flocks of the herd animals upon which the Selani depended. Their campfires were like stars spread out on the ground before them, and they extended to the Cloud Spire, and even beyond it, like an immense army besieging the solitary pinnacle of rock.

"Gathering," Denai said in a kind of dreamy, excited manner.

"There are so many," Tarrin said in disbelief.

"What did you expect?" Sarraya asked him as she landed on his shoulder. "A cozy little group like your old village?"

"It looks like only about half of the clans are in," Var said critically. "Odd for it being so late."

"Maybe there are bad storms out there," Denai suggested. "We've been very lucky not to have any storms slow us down for a while now."

"You getting a closer sense on that thing, Tarrin?" Sarraya asked. That made him pay attention to the other half of his senses, the ones that could sense magic. It was like a beacon to him, and the sense of its location was now exacting. Tarrin followed the feel of it with his eyes out over the shallow valley. They locked on the Cloud Spire… then they went up.

Tarrin looked up into the cloud, and he felt not a little bit of trepidation and disappointment. The object was a good distance past that cloud. Obviously, it was in the possession of the Aeradalla. If he wanted to see what it was, he was going to have to climb that imposing monstrosity. The thought of it nearly made him afraid.

"I take it that it's up there?" Sarraya asked.

Tarrin nodded only once. "Right there," he said, pointing into the cloud.

"What's up there?" Denai asked curiously.

"Something that doesn't concern you," he said pointedly. "They've already seen me, so there's no use trying to hide," he reasoned. "But I'm not going down there and have them swarm all over me." He looked at Var and Denai, then moved off the ridge. He couldn't hide from the Scouts, but at least he'd have some time to hide himself by the time they got back to the Gathering with the information they were about to pick up.

What he was about to do didn't sit well with him, but he didn't see much choice. He'd attract too much attention to himself as he was, and it would look very odd for two Selani to be moving at a pace so a cat could keep up with them. The idea riled up his feral nature, and he had to force himself even to think about it. He couldn't even say it. "Denai, you're the lucky one."

"For what?"

Before he could answer, his form blurred and compressed, and the giant Were-cat was replaced by a rather large black cat. He sat on his haunches patiently and looked up at her, his eyes steady and his cat expression sober, as the suddenly displaced Sarraya managed to recover herself, giving Tarrin a furious look. That expression and calm nature hid a violent whirlwind of conflicting emotions in him, as his fear of strangers-even Denai-battled with both his reasoning that there was no other way, and the fact that he liked the Selani girl. He knew she wouldn't hurt him, but that was little consolation as the Cat in him conjured up any number of reasons or images of the ways she could hurt him or betray him. It was by an extreme act of will that he sat there, that he allowed her to do what he knew she knew to do.

"Oh. I can handle it," she said with a bright smile, reaching down and picking him up.

It felt decidedly strange being held by someone that was not part of his little family, and it caused an irrational surge of fear in him. But Denai's hands were gentle and her hold on him reassuring, enveloping, surrounding him with a sense of peace. He settled down after a moment, and with that calming came a peculiar feeling of safety that could only be found while being held in the arms of a protector. Tarrin actually found himself able to relax in her comforting hold, and he settled in against her arm and closed his eyes as Denai carried him down the ridge, down towards the massive throng of the Selani Gathering.

It was a small victory, but he'd take them any way he could. He had managed to allow a stranger to pick him up. Like Mist, he had allowed himself to come into a position where he did not have full control, and the idea of that was not as terrifying now as it seemed but a moment ago. There was fear-there was still fear-but he found that he could tolerate it.

It was more than he would have allowed a month ago.

The Selani were much different to him now.

Var and Denai had reached the outside edge of the massive Gathering about a half hour after sunset, and the lights of the fires illumated the barren, sandy landscape. The Selani here were boisterous, but not reckless. There was loud music, drinking, dancing, talking, laughing, but no carousing or improper behavior that one would see in a group of drunk humans. Even in drinking, the Selani dignity and sense of honor overwhelmed the loosening effect of their drink, making the sounds coming from campfires one of celebration and togetherness rather than a drunken row. The Selani were family, even in such a huge gathering of them, and they acted like such.

That didn't mean that there wasn't activity. Around some campfires, some watched as others battled one another in the Dance, or even with weapons. But after watching a moment, he saw that it was more of a friendly challenge, a competition, not a fight. The Holy Mother forbade the Selani from fighting each other, and that prohibition was strong enough even here to hold true. Around others, there was dancing. He never thought of the Selani as dancers-their word for dance was the name of their fighting art form-but they were well suited for it. Both males and females danced, either alone or with one another, and their steps were light and well measured. These were ritual forms, dances taught, not the random undulations that passed for dance in some societies. It was graceful and delicate, where even the motion of a finger seemed to carry meaning and importance. He didn't have time to watch a full dance, since Denai was carrying him, but he saw enough to be impressed by both the Selani aptitude and the gentle beauty of the dances they performed.

"Ask Denai where we're going," Tarrin told the nearby Sarraya in the manner of the Cat.

"Tarrin wants to know where we're going," Sarraya relayed from her invisible position.

"I'm following Var," she shrugged.

"I'm looking for my mother's tribe," he announced. "They're very good friends with my tribe, and my grandmother will offer us hospitality until one of our tribes get here."

Tarrin kept watching the Selani as he was carried along, and after several moments, he realized a fundamental difference between them and humans. Humans who didn't know one another didn't care. They were unfeeling, indifferent. It wasn't so with the Selani. They cared for one another, even complete strangers, greeting one another in a benevolent fashion, where complete strangers could sit down at the fire of a tribe and find welcome. Allia told him that there was occasional friction between tribes or clans, but from what he saw watching them, those frictions had to be nothing like frictions between human societies. The Holy Mother's forbiddance to fight with one another had settled into her people in a very good way, making them cordial and compassionate to one another. Even bitter enemies could sit side by side at one of those fires and find acceptance. And while the rival may not like the Selani, he would respect his honor and afford him proper treatment. They treated their children with love and gentleness, he saw, a child finding complete safety no matter where he or she went, since every Selani around the child would keep an eye out for the child's safety and well being, would give the child the attention he or she needed. Allia had told him that all Selani took a hand in raising the children, and watching them, he understood her meaning. A Selani child had a mother and father, but the child's tribe were aunts and uncles and cousins. To be raised in an environment of such love! Tarrin was lucky to have been raised in a similar environment, since the farm had been out and away from the village. He could identify with them.