In her dreams, Seeker Tempest ran.

She knew it to be a dream, as she sped down darkened streets lined with unfamiliar buildings. She knew it to be a dream when strange plants whipped at her face and legs with the speed of her passing. She knew it to be a dream when she heard the baying of her pursuers close behind.

She knew it to be a dream. But she could not keep from fleeing.

Her heart pounded in her chest, sweat coated her limbs, her bare feet slapped on rocky earth, her breath sang in her ears as she fled from her pursuers. Past the house of her uncle, through the streets that her ancestors had paved, across the bridge that spanned the river flowing through the village to the sea.

She ran with no destination in mind, with no purpose beyond escape, even as she knew escape was impossible.

"She went that way! Catch her!"

She knew this dream. She had dreamed it a dozen times before. And she knew how it ended.

She turned down an alleyway, desperately seeking escape. Maybe this time would be different. Maybe this time she would get away. Maybe–

But the bread in her hands was too heavy. It was like a rock, weighing her down, slowing her steps. And then the street beneath her feet turned to a marsh, sucking at her and slowing her further until it felt like she was forcing herself to run through jelly.

She heard her pursuers closing in. Heard their booted feet striking against the cobbles, the same cobbles that held her in place like shackles. She tugged against them, her mouth open and trying to scream even though no sound came.

In reality, she had been caught by the guard, forced to her knees, her hands bound, her ill-gotten gains seized and taken from her. Rough hands had forced her up, and rough elves had taken her to the stockade, where she would be forced to wait for judgement.

In the dream, the rough hands seized her. But they did not force her down. Instead they grew claws that bit deep into her flesh. She screamed soundlessly, trying to twist away. Her arm was plucked from her body, and the bread fell to the bloody ground. Hands closed over her legs, her arm, her breasts, her neck, her head.

And they pulled.

* * *

"How's she doing?"

Alejandra looked up from where she sat next to the elf in her nest-bed to see Lucas standing there, fidgeting. His eyes darted between the emaciated form in the bed and Alejandra.

"There is no change," she said quietly. "Her pulse is strong, and I believe the IV is helping. But she still sleeps. Whether it is from exhaustion, lack of food, or from the severity of her wounds I do not know."

"Liv said her scrolls didn't have anything on how to specifically treat her," Luc said, shuffling forward and standing on his tip-toes to look at the girl. "They did have some weak points, though. Apparently elves don't like having their ears pulled."

"Few people do," Alejandra said with a little smile as she watched her son. She recognized the signs of worry, but even more she recognized the signs of guilt in her boy. He had been like this with the robin chick he had accidentally knocked out of the tree when he was nine. The chick had recovered fairly quickly. Luc had taken longer.

"Lucas," she continued, leaning in to put one of her hands on his shoulder. "You are not to blame for this, you know that right? You did not cause her injuries, nor starve her, nor cause whatever other problems she is suffering from."

"I know," Luc said quietly, not looking away from the still form. "But I couldn't heal her, either."

"And that is not your fault either," Alejandra said gently.

"No it isn't," Luc said, and the anger in his voice made Alejandra blink. "It's the stupid System's fault. Because if it didn't think she was an enemy, it would have let me heal her. And anyone with half a brain and one eye could see that she's not an enemy. She's a hurt girl who needed my help, and the stupid System decided that it wasn't gonna happen."

Her son looked up at Alejandra with angry tears in his eyes.

"I thought this whole thing was really cool when we first got it, y'know? Because I got Harry and I was able to heal you and it was… Well, it was magic. But now? Now I think that someone set it up to be stupid, and I'm worried about what other stupid rules we're gonna run into and maybe what trouble they'll cause."

Alejandra couldn't help herself. She laughed.

It was quite clearly not the reaction that Lucas had expected. He stared at her, mouth open. Then he closed it and glared at her.

"What's so funny?" he demanded.

"I am sorry," Alejandra said through the giggles that had suddenly grabbed her. "You just sounded so much like someone I used to know, it was uncanny."

Luc crossed his arms and glared some more. "Oh yeah?" Who?"

"One of my squad, back in my first tour," she said, getting herself under a modicum of control. "PFC Lennox. He was always complaining about how stupid the war was, and how foolish the brass was, and how we were all going to die horrible deaths because of things we couldn't see and didn't know."

Luc blinked. "That's… Wait, I sound like that?"

"Si, mijo," Alejandra said, chuckling. "But I do not blame you for it. It is something I have thought hard about. And at the end of the day… We can only do what we can do."

"Seriously? That's your answer? What about preparing for something going wrong, or testing our powers to see if we can find those kinds of stupid rules, or–"

"Mijo," Alejandra made her voice soften as she looked at her son. "What does the good book say about worry?"

Luc glared some more, but this time his eyes slid away from meeting her gaze.

"Lucas?" She drew his name out leadingly. "What does it say?"

Luc sighed. "It says worrying doesn't help," he grumbled.

"'Who among you can add a single day to his life through worrying'," Alejandra quoted, then squeezed Luc's shoulder again. "There are some things we can prepare for, but arbitrary rules that we cannot see coming and have no way of knowing about? That is beyond even my skill to prepare for, Lucas. We will just have to deal with them when it comes up. And," she added, meeting his eyes with her own, "if and when we do find those limitations, it will stlll not be your fault. Or anyone else's in this family."

"I know," Luc sighed. "I just hate feeling this powerless."

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"I know, mijo," Alejandra sighed. "I know."

They stayed there for a little while in silence, as the sounds of construction from the rest of the clearing washed over them.

"So," Alejandra finally said, glancing at Luc. "tu papa tells me you have some ideas for laying out traps around our home, that Billy can activate if more sentinels come around?"

Luc perked up.

* * *

In her dreams, Seeker Tempest ran.

She knew she was in a dream. She felt the grass beneath her feet stabbing into her soles as she ran barefoot over it. She felt the tree branches whip against her exposed skin. She felt the wind slice at her flesh. She knew it all to be false.

But still she ran.

She ran from the snarls and snaps of the Thrakash' behind her. She felt its hot breath against the small of her back, felt the whistle of air as its stinger slid past her neck. She ran, knowing she could not outrun it, but unable to do anything else.

Then the explosion came. The Thrakash was thrown forward, its body blasted open, its dead eyes staring at her in shock. She skidded to a halt, slicing her feet upon the sharp grass, and turned around.

The Sojourners were there, their strange smokethrowers raised and pointed at her. Their eyes were pits of flame and smoke, their mouths fanged and their lips spread wide in demonic grins.

Run, they said without words.

Seeker Tempest ran.

For two steps.

Then her left leg was blown out from under her as the Sojourner's smokethrower shot her. She shrieked without sound as her body hit the ground, the sharp grass stabbing up into her.

She got on hands and knees and crawled, panting, weeping, her leg refusing to work right.

It's just a dream. It's just a dream.

Another shot. Her left arm was blown to pieces, and she collapsed again, screaming. She tried to move. Another shot. Another limb lost.

She rolled over onto her back, gasping for air. The woman, the sojourner, stood over her. The smokethrower in her hands pointed right at Seeker Tempest's head.

Good hunt, the Sojourner said.

And blew Seeker Tempest's head apart.

* * *

"And just where are you going to get ten foot metal spikes?" Alejandra asked, staring at some of the drawings her son had handed her. "And… Are these flamethrowers?"

"Of course not Mom," Luc said, sounding affronted. "The whole idea is to make it so that Billy can take on Sentinels if we need him to."

"And?"

"And fire doesn't hurt rock, Mom. Jeez." Lucas rolled his eyes, and despite herself Alejandra had to laugh.

"Alright, smart boy," she said, ruffling his hair in that way he hated. "Then what exactly am I looking at here?"

"Acid throwers," Luc said proudly.

Alejandra blinked. "Acid…"

"Throwers! I figure dad can make acid at the potion station, and then if we can make some bronze nozzles and a glass holding tank, we can make it so that all Billy has to do is press a button and presto, acid sprays coat down anything in front of the nozzles and start eating through their rock exteriors!"

"Yes, I see that now…" Alejandra stared at the death trap on the paper. "It is… Very ingenious."

"Yeah, so all we gotta do–"

"And it will not be happening," Alejandra added, raising an eyebrow. "It is too fragile, too dangerous, and if the wind shifts the wrong way then you will be spewing acid over things other than the Sentinels."

"Oh. Right." Lucas deflated. "Um… Okay, maybe not the acid throwers then."

"But these," Alejandra flipped to another design. "Pit traps? Log rolls? And… What exactly is this one?" she held up what looked like a bunch of massive logs in a basket of branches.

"Oh, well, see, Billy can't actively target sentinels with anything he's holding. But like, if he just drops something and it happens to hit a Sentinel? That's probably kosher. So I figured, if we stash a bunch of really heavy stuff in his branches, and then he just lets them go at the right time, he wouldn't actually be attacking the sentinels, and we could drop like six tons of logs on their heads or something."

"And… These?"

"Spring loaded spike traps. Billy pushes a button and shoop," Luc threw one hand into the air. "Big ol' spike comes slamming up out of the ground. I don't care if you're made of rock, getting a nut-shot by ten foot of sharpened steel is gonna ruin your day at least a little bit!"

Alejandra couldn't help it. Faced with such enthusiastic skulduggery, she could only laugh.

* * *

Seeker Tempest dreamed. And in her dream, she struggled. Something strong and unyielding pinned her arms to her sides. Something rough and freezing had trapped her legs. She squirmed and fought against whatever gripped her, but she could not break free. She was in darkness, unable to see, unable to think, unable to scream. All she could do was fight, and even in this she knew it would eventually end in defeat.

She had lost. She was doomed. The voices in the darkness whispered their poisoned words to her. She had failed. She would die. Just one more of the Community claimed by the island.

She was worthless. She was useless. She would not be missed. She should just give up. She should–

Light. Light so small and faint that only because she was in total darkness was it even visible. It flickered at the edge of her vision, drew her eyes to it like a starving elf would be drawn to the scent of food.

The voices railed and screamed at her, trying to force her eyes away. But the light was there. It was real. And it beckoned.

She moved without walking, her limbs still bound, her voice still lost to her. But somehow she drew near to the light. It was soft and gentle, a quiet blue-white thing that existed despite the darkness pressing down from all sides. A simple, quiet mote of brightness that should not have existed in this place.

She drew near. The tiny light did not flee from her approach. It seemed to be expecting her.

And when she was close enough, it spoke.

Hello, it said.

She stared at it, unable to respond, unable to move.

My name is Billy. You've had a rough time, haven't you.

The voice was so simple and direct that it cut past the other voices screaming from the darkness, it cut past her own defenses raised for so long, cut past everything to the heart of the matter. And its simple sympathy brought hot tears to her dream eyes.

You're lots better now, though, the light said. You've got people taking care of you. But this is a bad place. You should leave.

How? How could she leave? She was trapped here. Did not the light see that? Did not it see her bound limbs, her stolen voice, her broken form?

Yeah, I don't know about all that. But I think you could leave if you wanted to.

How!?

Just wake up.

* * *

Seeker Tempest's eyes fluttered open. The first thing she saw was a brilliant blue-white canopy of leaves above her, and the massive multi-trunks rising around her. Trunks that were familiar.

Kel'Darshein. A keeper tree.

She felt tension sluice from her body in one massive wave. She was within the boughs of a Kel'Darshein. She was safe. The realization, so slow in coming, was enough to bring tears to her eyes.

The second thing she saw was the strange bag hanging on one of the keeper's branches near her head. It was see-through and connected by a small hose to her arm. She followed the line of the strange thing, down to her arm, and her eyes widened when she saw the bandages there.

Her eyes followed the bandages all the way down her body, up to the edge of the nest-bed in which she was laying…

To the two faces peering down at her.

"Well hello there, sleepy-head," said the Sojourner woman. "Welcome back to the land of the living."

Seeker Tempest screamed.

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