We’re going to have to leave Oisha there, plummeting, for a bit longer because I realize I forgot to mention something I probably should have put at the beginning of this tale. This tale is about four people past their prime with only the gear they had on hand taking on a kobakra. They aren’t prepared for this, not really. They could die. They could survive but still fail to stop the kobakra. You might be thinking that can’t be what happens: this story is entitled The Empty Nester’s First Adventure, not their only adventure; but all that really means is that at least two of them go on to have another adventure.

To give you time to let that sink in before we continue, this is probably a good time for a little flashback.

The two couples we’ve been following had been friends and neighbors for more than thirty years, but they met before they became neighbors and before they became couples. The first time the four of them were all together was on a double date.

It was Fyodor who had set up the double date. He’d been dating Catalina (yes, Catalina, not Oisha) for a little while, but it wasn’t going great and he wanted to try something to mix it up. He’d been set up with Catalina by her mother—at the time she and he worked in the same pub—because he was a Small and because she hoped that someone as intuitive and interested in the feelings of others as Fyodor might be able to understand her emotionally-inscrutable daughter. He was happy to try dating her: she had the striking looks typical of a Gleam and Gleams could be very handy to have around. Catalina for her part seemed perfectly willing to spend time with Fyodor, doing whatever he proposed. But there was nothing beyond that, at least that he could see. He knew Catalina must have feelings—everyone did, no matter how well they covered them—but he just couldn’t seem to figure out hers.

Fyodor started taking self-defense classes shortly after he started dating Catalina because he thought that bouncers had a more interesting job in the pub than he. At that class he’d met a lithe and energetic young Small named Oisha. Oisha was in a much more advanced class than he—she’d been practicing throws and punches since childhood and even won a few competitions—so they weren’t in the same class together. He met her when his instructor asked her to show him a few moves that were hard to demonstrate to someone half your size. Fyodor complimented Oisha on how she made it look so easy; she thought he was hitting on her and replied I just started dating someone. Fyodor said he had too, no worries, he just meant it as a compliment. Then he thought that maybe Catalina would open up if there was another woman on the date with them?

Oisha had been dating Diego for a little longer than Fyodor and Catalina had been dating. Diego caught her eye at a martial expo and competition—she won the freestyle wrestling competition in the Small category, he did OK in the moving-target archery contest—so she approached him, flirted in hopes he’d ask her out, then realized he wasn’t getting it and asked him out instead. He was nice to look at and agreeable enough, but much too quiet. She was going to have to work on him before he became someone she was proud of. And a double date with someone as openly social as Fyodor might be just the thing to kick him into a gallop. With that thought in mind, she agreed to Fyodor’s suggestion.

The four of them met at The Belly and began to eat and talk. Oisha and Fyodor did most of the talking, both clearly frustrated that their dates weren’t contributing more. Part-way through the meal, Catalina responded to Fyodor asking what do you think, Catalina? with I think I’d rather marry Diego, and I think that you get on better with Oisha than with me.

This totally derailed the conversation: not just because it was unrelated to what they’d been talking about; not just because it was the kind of thing you just don’t say; but mostly because, once said, it was self-evidently true. Fyodor gaped, Oisha spluttered, Catalina calmly took another bite of food, and Diego said did you just propose?

Propose what? asked Catalina.

Propose marriage with me, clarified Diego, seemingly unperturbed by her missing that connotation.

Oh, said Catalina. No, I just said I think I’d like it.

I think I might too, said Diego. Then, turning to Oisha (who was still struggling to come to grips with all this), he said Sorry, I know you asked me out and all, but do you think maybe we could switch partners for the rest of the date? And, if things go well, after that too?

And that is how it happened. Twenty days later Diego and Catalina wed in a small ceremony with Fyodor and Oisha as witnesses and just their immediate families in attendance. Half a year after that a noticeably-pregnant Catalina was one of the army of attendees at Oisha and Fyodor’s large wedding event. The two couples moved in next to each other, days turned into decades, and we’re back up to where we left off.

Let’s remind ourselves what was happening at that moment.

The kobakra is running at a speed enabled by its strange stilt legs. It’s nearly to the top of the rise, beyond which it can sense a feast waiting; but just recently a few gnats started piercing and burning and bashing and cutting it; not enough to slow it down, but it’s definitely annoyed.

Fyodor is just behind the kobakra, turning his barrel for another run at it. He’s got a club in one hand, a saber in the other, and he’s covered in cuts and welts from a recent hit by the kobakra’s tail. They hurt a lot, and the kobakra’s winding up for a second swing, but he took the first blow without any major wounds and while he’d rather not be whipped again, he’s also not too worried about it.

Oisha is falling from her previous perch above the kobakra. From that perspective she saw how the kobakra pulled its first blow to avoid whipping itself when Fyodor was touching its right flank, but he’s in the clear now and if she doesn’t distract the kobakra somehow she thinks her husband is about to be impaled by the many spikes and blades woven into that unnatural tail. That was her motivation in deciding to drop off her barrel, but now that she’s falling her driving urge is to not hit the rough stony ground; there’s a big furry back below her and she must land on it or— no, there’s no or: she must land on it!

Diego and Catalina are a little distance back off the kobakra’s left flank, feeling somewhat confused and very worried. First Fyodor charged the monster, vanished behind it, came out looking bloodied, and now he’s turning around while right in the middle of the tail’s reach. Then Oisha, who’d been flying high above the others, fell off her barrel and is now plummeting a distance she can’t possibly survive towards either a terrifying magical monster or a ridge made almost entirely of boulders. Who are these people, and what have they done with the social, proper, boring people they used to be? Much more importantly, are they both about to die?

Got the scene in your mind? Then let’s resume.

Oisha is falling much farther than she’s ever fallen before. There is a sense of weightlessness, but mostly a sense of too fast, not enough time, here comes the ground, I’m not aimed right, I’m going to miss, oh no on no oh no!

Catalina and Diego watch in horror as she drops not onto the kobakra’s back, as they had vaguely hoped she would, but behind the far side of its bulk. This does seem to have attracted the kobakra’s attention, though, for it lets out a barking chirp and suddenly veers to its right. Its tail, which had already begun a descent to obliterate Fyodor, is jerked to the side by this sudden course change, emitting half a dozen loud cracks as some of its many tips snap as they’re jerked about.

Fyodor, who had not seen his wife’s fall, sees the kobakra’s sudden veering only as a lucky break and races up to its right flank, pummeling it with club and saber. He’s feeling pretty good about this: it’s all working to plan! Better than plan: it’s not fighting back at all!

Diego, realizing he can do nothing for Oisha and that Fyodor’s attack can only succeed if the curse is confused by other attacks, tries to match the monster’s speed and shoots arrows into it between Fyodor’s swings.

Catalina lost sight of Oisha when she passed behind the kobakra and the kobakra veered and Fyodor charged—was that a grin on his face?—and she’s worried the kobakra turned to finish Oisha off or savage her body, so she races towards where she guesses her body would have landed. As she’s getting close enough to expect to see it she’s distracted by the kobakra letting out a loud, pained scream and again turning sharply, this time to the left to resume its original heading. After looking up to see what was the matter Catalina looks down again, but to explain what she sees we need to jump back just a moment to Oisha’s fall.

Oisha did not land on the kobakra as she had hoped, but she also didn’t miss it entirely. She fell within reach of its side and grabbed handfuls of fur with a vice-like grip born of terror. She was going so fast it burnt and ripped her palms and then the fur tore right out of the kobakra’s hide, causing it to turn sharply towards her in a reflexive need to lessen the tugging. The jerk of pulling the fur, then having it come free, caused Oisha to slow only a little and tumble, spinning, toward the jagged rocky ground.

Catalina looked at where Oisha’s body had landing in horror, in shock. It… no, it couldn’t be. Oisha was the athletic one, the one who taught self-defense classes, the one who knew how to survive a fight. How… it must be a mistake… it can’t… surely there was something she could do…

As she fumbled about her crystal pouches in a mad hunt for anything that might help, her hands landed on her freshening stone. Used carefully, it could un-wilt vegetables and un-bruise fruit, but it made meat spasm and twitch and get very tough. If it made meat twitch, maybe it would make Oisha move too?

She heard the kobakra’s tail snap and Fyodor scream. She didn’t have time; she had to rejoin the others. Ignoring her own safety she routed the entire freshening stone through herself and into Oisha’s body. Immediately Oisha spasmed, then gasped: it worked!

Channeling too much magic too quickly has a consequence. The usual channel of a charm is up one arm, across the shoulders, and down the other, but with over-channeling this expands and reaches down into the heart and up into the head. Catalina had just shoved a huge amount of magic through herself very quickly, magic that was principally focused on vigor and energy. Her heart was pounding, her blood rushing through her veins, her mind racing in frenetic hyperactivity. Her brain was screaming to her It​worked!​Oisha​is​up!​I​have​to​go​help​the​others​Now​Now​Now!

As Catalina raced to catch up with the Diego, Fyodor, and the kobakra she saw she was almost too late to save Fyodor. She could see the red streaks all over him, see the tail winding up for another blow. A heat beam wouldn’t save him. Rapidly her hands flicked across her crystals and landed on her tingler. Yes! She shot that charm into a spot on the opposite side of the kobakra from Fyodor and the tail snapped with a premature course correction and then reversed to lash the kobakra’s own side.

In her frenetic state, Catalina overdid this charm a bit too and suddenly her mind was filled with the pins-and-needles feeling the tingler created. Catalina generally picked her charms based on their household utility: removing lice, reheating leftovers, extending the life of produce. The tingler was a wedding present she’d never found a great use for and had only taken on this trip because she had taken all her crystals, just in case. With the pins-and-needles brain she wasn’t able to focus on using magic, so she focused on catching up while she waited for it (and with it the hyperactivity side effect too) to subside.

Where’s Oisha? Diego shouted to her as she flew back into the fight.

Lost her barrel! Catalina called back. No need to say more about her state than that. We’ll pick her up once this is dead.

Diego accepted this at face value. His wife wasn’t generally surreptitious or indirect. He noticed that Fyodor was bleeding enough that his clothes were starting to turn red. Are you OK Fyodor?

Keep shooting! replied Fyodor. When you two pause to chat and its hide gets too hard for me to hurt.

Sounded like he was OK too. Keep shooting it was.

It was in this configuration that they crested the ridge and came into sight of the town of Woodkettle. On the left flank, Fyodor on a barrel beating and cutting its side. Further out to its left, Diego on a barrel shooting arrows. Just out of reach of the tail on its right, Catalina blasting it with short bursts of magical heat and then pointing to where it whipped itself.

The kobakra was not happy. It was being poked and bashed and slashed and burnt and there was this super annoying feeling of something running around under its skin that went away as soon as it hit it with its tail, but then came back a little later in a new place. It turned its head to try to snap at whatever this was, but it was out of reach. It lifted a paw to scratch it off, but its strange stilt-like leg meant the paw ended up nowhere near the annoyance. Meanwhile, it was losing blood and its curse, pulsing defensive changes in a vain attempt to keep up with the varied attacks, was expending its power. It was loosing energy, its attackers could not be shaken, and there ahead of it was a source of energy, babies and toddlers and children aplenty. It gave up trying to shake its antagonists and put all its effort into covering that distance in as little time as possible.

With the renewed focus and the benefits of the downward slope, the kobakra gained speed. Soon the three barrel riders found their attention split between keeping their barrels moving fast enough not to fall behind and their ongoing attacks. Catalina burnt through her last heat crystal and noticed her long-lasting tingler was noticeably smaller, so she slowed those charms too, only using them when it looked like Fyodor was about to be whipped. Diego noticed his supply of arrows was dwindling and decided to take more time to aim each shot. As these attacks slowed the curse focused more of its defenses on Fyodor’s attacks, which started hitting curse-hardened hide more often than flesh, so he too slowed, taking bigger wind-ups for less frequent but harder-hitting blows.

Through all this, the kobakra continued to focus on its pending meal. They had crossed more than half the distance to the town and it showed no sign of slowing. It oozed blood from arrow wounds and saber cuts and tail wounds; it was dotted with burn marks and probably bruising under its madly-pulsing fur, but it did not slow. It ran past the groves and into the work yards. If it noticed the bait trail, it didn’t go there: it made straight for the largest group of children. Two score men with spears were ready to receive its charge. Behind them the others prepared to run, to scatter, but not yet, not while it is far enough to follow their movements. Soon, though, very soon—

Diego has shot his last arrow. Catalina has run out of anything like an offensive charm and the tingler is almost spent. Fyodor is still attacking, but with just a few types of attacks the curse is able to protect against most of their effect. Ahead is a wall of spears, but the three know that once the first spear lands the others will be deflected harmlessly by the curse. They’ve lost.

And then the kobakra stumbles. At least, it would have been just a stumble if it had been proportioned like a regular beast. One of its front paws, weakened by reduced blood flow, doesn’t quote clear a log in its path. Its claws jam into the hard wood and are caught, swinging the paw back, all the way back. Its long stork leg, pulled back behind it, gets in the way of the hind paw which slips and comes down much too far out to the side. Unbalanced, the kobakra swings its tail out to counter the unexpected torque, but the tail lacks the mass needed to be an effective counter-balance and whips much too fast to one side, wrapping around a copperwood trunk and holding fast as dozens of barbs sink into the wood. The sharp jerk from the tail’s sudden halt pulls the kobakra up short before the entire tail rips from its body, trailing bloody strands that pull from its back. At the sudden release of the tail’s tension the kobakra pitches forward, face-planting in the yard and tumbling tail-over torso onto its back. Its immense weight is more than its neck can sustain during the somersault and breaks under the strain, and the kobakra is dead.

As soon as it was clear the kobakra wasn’t getting back up, Catalina said I’ll go get Oisha, you make sure its dead, and turning flew with speed back up the rise.

Catalina had begun to worry about her decision to freshen Oisha’s corpse as soon as the hyperactivity wore off. Magic didn’t heal people. She’d seen the demonstrations they showed every young Gleam where they cut a goat, used magic to heal the cut, but the magic didn’t stop healing once the wound was closed and formed a fast-growing tumor, used magic to kill the tumor but not quite enough, so it changed to a ring-shaped tumor instead, used more magic to kill it and ended up with a much bigger wound than they’d started with, and so on until the goat died from the magical shock of too many charms in too little time. It was a very traumatic demonstration, but important for young Gleams who by nature had more power than sense and needed to be a little frightened of what they could do to keep them from doing things far worse than killing a goat.

Magic didn’t heal people, and yet she’d used a produce-freshening charm on her friend who had fallen from a great height onto a bounder-strewn hillside. And it had seemed to work: she had gasped, breathing again as only the living do: but at what cost? She was dreading what she’d see when she crested the ridge and came within sight of Oisha’s body.

What she saw was Oisha, standing on top of a boulder looking about herself. She had discarded her fur coat and cap, both which had quite a lot of blood in them, as did her hair. She looked quite out of place in her multi-colored knit work-out gear (were there a few new red patches? Catalina couldn’t be sure) and fox-fur boots in a trackless wilderness, with blood-matted hair but a calm, slightly-confused expression on her face.

As Oisha caught sight of Catalina she brightened. Catalina! she said. Where are we?

Odd question. Odd to see her up at all. No visible tumors, nothing looking wrong. We’re just outside of Woodkettle, Catalina said.

Oisha looked confused for a moment, mouthed outside of to herself, then brightened again. Oh, right. I’d almost forgotten about this part.

About what part? asked Catalina.

The bit after I died and before I was dead, said Oisha as if that made sense.

Catalina’s mind was racing. What could be going on? Forgotten? This part? Something seemed to have happened to Oisha’s mind, but what exactly? And was her body safe?

How do you feel? Catalina asked. Physically, I mean.

Lightheaded, said Oisha matter-of-factly. I think I lost a lot of blood.

Can you walk? It’s maybe a quarter league into town.

Didn’t I have a barrel? I thought I had a barrel of flight.

You did, said Catalina, but it is empty now. She pointed back towards where she’d passed the empty barrel, but it wasn’t visible from here. Mine will run out in a few minutes too. Should I use what’s left to fetch help or can you walk?

I can walk, replied Oisha. Walk with me?

Catalina set down, put the bung back in, and joined Oisha.

They walked for a bit in silence.

Not as smooth as the roads and paths back home, Oisha said.

Agreed, said Catalina.

Could you, uh, do you mind helping me a bit? Oisha said, holding out her arm.

Not at all, said Catalina, taking it.

Back in the town things were busy. Townsfolk were inspecting the kobakra, talking about it, gagging in its increasingly pungent odor of putrifying flesh—its insides seem to have been partly rotted before it even died—discussing how they could dispose of a corpse so very large. The local surgeon and two assistants were cutting Fyodor free from his tattered clothes and bout pads and cleaning and bandaging his many, many wounds. Shepherds were retrieving kids and lambs and grumbling at having had to string them out like that when it didn’t even work. Children were terrified and amazed and handled that in a manner befitting their age: young children crept closer to the corpse, then turned and ran away in shrieking giggles, hid behind their parents’ legs, then did it again; while older children feigned indifference or asked their friends to dare them to climb on it or get a handful of fur or whatnot. Diego was at a bit of a loss; he liked adults when they were looking to him for answers, but the only questions they were asking him now were about the origins of the kobakra and the location of Oisha and Catalina, and he had precious little to offer on either front.

When Diego saw his wife and neighbor walk over the rise he decided to go out to meet them. He was shod for wilderness hiking and had plenty of energy, not having done anything strenuous during the fight. Oisha seemed faint and the blood-matted hair looked awful, but she said she was fine. Catalina had a bad case of gleam-dulling, much worse than Diego had ever seen before: her left hand, which had absorbed the power of many crystals, was numb and transluscent; and her right hand, which had channeled it out, had little knobs all over it like over-sized taste buds or a forest of tiny warts. Diego had seen much more mild versions of this before when Catalina had used too many crystals in too short a time, and knew that her arm bones and the inside of her shoulders must be tingling and itching fit to kill. He also knew that the cure was rest and that once she let herself stop, she’d sleep for a long time: maybe multiple days given how bad this looked. Which meant he had to keep her active until they got to town, and had to get anything she needed to tell him out of her now.

That looks like quite the head wound, Oisha, he said to open the conversation.

What? Oisha felt about her head. Oh, right. I’d forgotten about that. Don’t worry, Catalina fixed it.

You did? Diego asked Catalina in surprise. He knew from the times that their own children had gotten injured that she couldn’t do that.

I, um, well, sort-of said Catalina.

It was a side effect of bringing me back from the dead, said Oisha cheerfully.

Say what?

I died, but I’m not dead yet because Catalina used some magic on me. She can tell you more.

I can? said Catalina.

Can’t you? asked Oisha.

Catalina took a deep breath. I un-wilted her. Like I do vegetables.

Oh, said Diego. They went a short distance in silence. That works? he said at last.

I guess, she said. She seems to be alive again.

For how long? asked Diego.

Catalina looked at Oisha, who seemed content to hike along without engaging further in the conversation. Hard to say. With vegetables it gives them a few more days, fruit sometimes as many as ten or fifteen. Never heard of it used on a being before.

Oisha, Diego asked, do you feel like you’re going to die again?

Oisha thought on this for a bit before responding. Not exactly, she said at length. I guess I feel like I already died, and now I’m back in my body for a visit, not to stay.

Oh, said Diego. Odd response. What did that mean? How long a visit?

Not sure. Several days at least, maybe a whole season.

Oh, said Diego again.

They walked in silence for a while.

There’s Fyodor, Diego said, pointing. I wonder how he’s going to take this.

Where? asked Oisha.

There, the one on the stretcher half covered in bandages.

Oh. Ouch, said Oisha, with uncharacteristic calm. That tail must have been really nasty. How many times did he get hit?

I think just twice, said Diego.

Ouch.

Here come people, said Diego. You ready for this?

I’m ready to sleep, replied Catalina.

I wouldn’t mind sleeping a bit myself, agreed Oisha. After I see Fyodor, of course.

Catalina ended up sleeping for the better part of three days. Oisha napped the rest of the day and through the night, but after that didn’t seem to sleep much at all, dozing for a few minutes a few times a day but otherwise being up and about night and day, though without much focus to her activities; she was content to sit in silence not doing anything for hours on end. Fyodor wasn’t tired and was a bit frantic with concern for his wife, which meant he kept tearing his stitches, so the surgeon gave him something that made him lethargic and insisted that Dmitri and Sofia keep him dosed with it for at least three days to give the wounds time to heal.

This left Diego with more time than things to do with it. He played with Tina, talked with his daughter and son-in-law, tried talking to the uncharacteristically laconic Oisha and mumbling and incoherent Fyodor, but none of that kept his attention for long. He inspected the dead kobakra, but it seemed to be rotting much more quickly than most corpses and there wasn’t much of interest to see. The next day he treked back up the ridge, found where Oisha’s and Catalina’s barrels had landed, and lugged them back into town. He asked about refilling the barrels, but the nearest active flight mine was more than twenty leagues up the road. He asked after new arrows, but they had to be custom-made because he was a Small, barely a quarter the size of the mostly-Large townsfolk. He asked about local hunting. He walked about the various groves and yards and watched people at their work. He toyed with some copperwood boards he got from the lumber mill, said I see why they don’t make barrels out of copperwood, the miller said yep; it’s fireproof but not very workable, Diego nodded, the miller nodded, and that used up their pool of conversation topics. He sat on a shelf in the kitchen as his daughter cooked and told her hunting stories and things that she and her siblings had done when they were young, but she didn’t attend very well, and it wasn’t the same as around a fire by a tent. He checked out the four barrels, pined over the eight lost in the wilderness, noticed a weakness in one barrel that he didn’t have the tools on hand to fix, and harrumphed to himself a bit.

Over supper the third day he was feeling restless. He really wanted flight; was there really none to be had within twenty leagues?

Not anymore was Dmitiri’s reply.

There used to be? asked Diego.

Sofia shook her head at her husband, knowing what Diego would do if Dmitri continued, but Dmitri lacked his fathers’ penchant for reading people and thought she just didn’t know about the old stories.

There used to be a full gleam mine four leagues north of here, Dmitri said. It was called Kettle Mine after Kettlebacher, the Gleam who ran it, which is why this town was named Woodkettle.

What happened to it? asked Diego, intrigued.

It ran out, said Sofia. I hear you went down to the lumber mill today, Papa.

It didn’t run out, said Dmitri, still not getting his wife’s effort to stop this line of conversation and start another, at least not completely. It was still pulling out enough crystal to stay in business when old Kettlebacher started acting strangely. The story is that he started only coming to town at night, rubbing soot on his face, saying strange things that didn’t make sense. They say after a few weeks of that he tried to kill someone, so they chased him back to the mine and boarded it up.

So, a gleam mine with a shadeling, mused Diego thoughtfully.

No! said Sofia, emphatically.

We killed a kobakra, said Diego. How hard can a shadeling be?

You got lucky, said Sofia. And even so Mama is still in bed recovering, Fyodor is covered in cuts, and Oisha is… is…

Vacant? suggested Oisha in a cheerful voice.

Not long for this world, said Sofia. Maybe not all the way in it now.

Sofia! said Dmitri reprimandingly.

No, she’s right, agreed Oisha. I already died, I’m just visiting now.

Mom! Don’t say things like that! objected Dmitri. I know you’re feeling a little out of it now, but you’ll get better.

I forgot how difficult it was to convince you of this, said Oisha to herself. Dmitri, look. You’re a good boy and I love you dearly, but you’re also wrong. Do you understand that? Wrong. Remember when you stepped on that frog in the backyard and refused to believe it had died and wanted to dig it up even after we buried it? It was dead. I’ve died and will soon be dead. I’d really rather you accepted this so that we can have a pleasant final visit instead of all these big-boy tantrums.

Dmitri was having none of this. But you’re alive! You’re clearly alive, sitting at the table with us, talking to us.

At this point Catalina walked into the room, her first appearance since the kobakra fight. And she’ll stay that way, she said, clearly having heard that last rant, for maybe ten more days. See this? She pointed to her right forearm.

Everyone looked at it for a bit. It’s your arm, said Dmitri at length.

No, I mean the glowing line along it that’s slowly— you can’t see it, can you? It’s a gleam thing?

Gleam thing, Diego agreed.

Catalina sighed. OK, so you can’t see it but the charm I used to keep her here, it left a gleamstreak that’s slowly creeping down my arm, getting shorter. Once it reaches my fingertip she’ll be gone.

And that’s in ten days? said Sofia.

I’m extrapolating; I’ve never had one this long before.

Can you extend it? Make it longer? asked Dmitri.

(He finally admits it’s magic! whispered Oisha under her breath. Yay!)

Not without another unwilt crystal, said Catalina. She wasn’t sure that she could with one either, but she knew there was no other Gleam in town and certainly no shop selling esoteric household gleam crystals, so there was no need to mention that uncertainty.

But we were just talking before you came in, Dimitri said: there’s a gleam mine only four leagues from here. Would that have one of those crystals?

Dmitri! said Sofia sharply.

It might, said Catalina. Worth a look.

Mama, there’s a shadeling in that mine. You can’t go there!

That’s promising, said Catalina. I don’t know how to mine crystal, but a shadeling will have done so already.

Oh, sure, said Sofia, get crystals from the shadeling who has been hoarding them to use to kill you all! Sofia had been twelve when her youngest sister Beatriz had manifest as a Gleam and they had all gone to Family of Gleam classes; and the part about shadelings had disturbed her so much she still felt uncomfortable just talking about them.

Catalina shrugged. I think we can handle one shadeling.

It’s for Oisha, said Deigo as if that was all that needed to be known. Dmitri added a quiet yes!

What? No! said Sofia, frustrated. Did her parents have a death wish? She looked to Oisha, who had always been there for emotional support when she was growing up. Oisha, do you really want your husband and my parents to die trying to help you?

Oisha looked up from her plate. I don’t remember. Do I?

No, you don’t, said Sofia.

Oh, said Oisha. I’m not really… opinions aren’t quite… I mean… I’ll let Fyodor decide. Today was the last day you were supposed to drug him, right? We’ll let him decide tomorrow.