Char lines still scarred the terrain, but the forest paths were now navigable. Most of the camp had awakened before dawn, anticipating that the day would herald major changes.

Mara stood on a stump and went over the agreed upon assignments. "To Greyhold: Wyatt rides on Gertie, alternating with Roddick. Veyran and Vikka ride on Ashwind with Rhiannon, taking turns with Garrett."

Vikka lifted her chin at the mention of her name, her tongue twisting as she recalled Tibbin's hurried lessons in the Shy's language. Words still stumbled like hatchlings from her mouth, but it was enough, she hoped, to get by on this mission. It would be her first time alone as a kobold among other species since she and Sylven had been captured. However, this time she would no longer be a prisoner, but an envoy.

"To the caldera," Mara went on, turning her head toward the cluster of children and their keepers, "Eryl leads with Brynnal, riding on Uiska. Niva and Callan flying on the bluejays. Two other Sunbraves flanking on squirrels."

Eryl's hair had gained more silver in the days since the big confrontation, as if the fires had marked her with their ashes. She rested her palm on the nearest child's head and nodded with the sureness of someone who'd survived darker times. "We'll be home before the new moon," she said, more to reassure the little ones than for Mara's benefit.

"Well, that's it then. I'll be staying on here as you know," Mara asserted. "Along with the rest of us Shy and any kobolds who've chosen to learn from Mirys until Vikka returns."

"A handful from our clutch will return to the Cradle with word of our situation," Sidhe added.

There were no big speeches, just the exchange of small things. Wyatt set down a few new toys he'd carved for the little ones at Eryl's feet. Menna dug out a flat shard from her satchel and showed it to Veyran. "For the road. In case you run up against something that takes a bit more… you-know-what, to deal with. It's fully charged…" She handed it to him then leaned in to whisper softly enough so only he could hear. "…and keyed to the Warden."

"Thank you," Veyran said solemnly. "I won't waste this gift."

Rhiannon tightened the straps on Ashwind's tack and checked the padding where Vikka would sit. The Deepshy watched her hands, then climbed easily into the fold of her cloak at the collarbone, his weight and warmth barely perceptible. From there he could see and be seen. He adjusted the strap that tethered him to Rhiannon's shoulder with a twist and smiled, "Passenger and ambassador, that's my double-duty."

"You're coming," Rhiannon countered, setting a boot in the stirrup. "Because you said we would continue our exchange of knowledge."

"Fortunately, at times I do prefer your company to my thoughts," Veyran said, his dry tone wielding an edge as he settled against her shoulder.

Garrett slung his pack and pushed a lock of hair back from Wyatt's forehead with the heel of his hand. "We'll keep it simple, son," he murmured to Wyatt. "If we come across anybody, only say what's necessary."

Wyatt nodded. "The truth."

The father ruffled his son's hair. "Good boy, your mother would be so proud of you too."

Mirys showed up to bid farewell to those departing, her claws damp from the river. "For travelers," she said, dabbing each of their brows with clear water and a dab of ash. The water was shockingly cold against their skin, the ashes gritty. "Both a blessing and a reminder," Mirys said, her amber eyes holding each of theirs in turn. "The water to wash clean your intentions. The ash to remind you to keep the balance." She turned towards Vikka, then Ashwind, then the line of Shy and kobolds readying their packs beside the mounts. "Should you choose to come back to our den, you'll return as friends, no longer strangers to the Veilwoods," she waved them off.

"I'll come back with our sisters, even Grilsha if she wants," Vikka said to the others. Hearing it out loud made it easier for her to believe.

Mirys' advice lingered in Vikka's mind. "If Greyhold won't listen, get word to any creature of the Veilwoods," she'd instructed. Their shared connections were ready to carry a message. The kobolds now knew how to send out signals that would be recognized by those watching out for it and ignored by those who shouldn't.

The Greyhold group set out as the sun peeked from behind the treeline, leaving behind the chatter of both the rebuilders and the returners. Ashwind reined in her speed, being mindful of their slower companions.

By midmorning they were past the areas hit worst by the fire. Roddick brought up the rear on foot, humming occasionally to himself to keep his spirits up. Garrett set the pace in the middle, with Gertie refusing to match even Ashwind's more relaxed pace.

Veyran, riding in the warmth of Rhiannon's cloak, leaned into her ear. "You don't have to explain to me exactly what you'll say in there," he said. "But if you want to air it out. Try it on me."

"I won't make any excuses," she revealed. "We let them know that what was done to the Shy and kobolds is wrong. We acknowledge your personhood. Then we'll discuss possible reparations, and what comes after."

"A compact," Veyran suggested.

Wyatt walked toward Ashwind until he came up to the mare's side. "What do I tell them about Griff and Ruth?" he asked, looking up at Rhiannon.

"Whatever you're comfortable sharing," Rhiannon said.

Wyatt thought about that. "I think… I should say what would make things right. It's not about what's comfortable," he said, surprised at his own conviction.

It was the late afternoon when Ashwind's ears suddenly pricked forward, her nostrils flaring at a scent on the wind. Rhiannon felt the mare's muscles coil beneath her, ready to bolt.

Sensing the tension, Veyran whispered. "What is it?"

Turned out they had just come across two berry-pickers, eyes wide in surprise upon spotting their strange party. The men seemed harmless, but Rhiannon's hand still crept toward her blade.

Garrett raised an empty palm and greeted them. The older man of the pair recognized Wyatt and relaxed.

"Hey, you're the boy who hitched a ride on my wagon! You're going back to Greyhold?" the farmer asked.

"We are," Rhiannon cut in and replied. "Tell me, how are things back in town?"

"Pardon me, ma'am." The farmer doffed his hat and jerked his head towards the Grey Road. "We don't go into town much. But seems like they've got the guards going up and down the road more often. Around when smoke started coming out of the woods. That's all I know."

Rhiannon nodded once. "Thanks," she said, reaching into her satchel, but all her fingers could grasp were shards instead of coin, a different currency for a different purpose.

Back at the ruins, the preparations continued. Mara organized the work crews, assigning them to where more hands would make the most difference. A group of Shy masons were already molding new bricks and tiles, the scent of wet clay mingling with that of reeds drying in the sun. As they plotted out a proper workshop, the charcoal guidelines on the ground began taking shape as walls while the day warmed.

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Mirys took the little circle of kobolds who had chosen to remain and showed them the clumps of edible roots and fungi that could be foraged from. It wasn't grand magic at the same scale the woods had already flexed, but it was palpable how their humble efforts were already prompting the plants to produce more.

Sidhe, who was usually the readiest with complaints about their new arrangements, managed to begrudgingly admit that their rations tasted better than anything she remembered from the cradle. She paused mid-bite, her pupils narrowing as Tibbin watched. "Don't get smug," she grumbled, but her tail swayed with reluctant contentment. Around them, the other kobolds murmured agreement, their claws digging into the soil, coaxing roots to spread and shoots to reach eagerly toward the light. It was a simple display of their rediscovered affinities, but one that bound them to this new nest.

Eryl's group began their trek while the sun still stood high. She walked with her staff tapping an easy cadence, the children falling in line without any grumbling. As the path started climbing high enough to provide a good vantage point, she glanced back down at the patchwork of tents and poles reclaiming the ruins, trying to commit its landmarks to memory.

The Greyhold-bound group reached the penultimate stretch of the Grey Road by dusk. They were close enough to the town to hear the bell tolling, signaling that all gates except the main, most well-guarded portal were about to be closed.

"Are we sticking to the plan?" Roddick asked.

"Straight in," Rhiannon said. "We present ourselves to the council, explain our situation. You and Wyatt answer their questions. Garrett can scout the compound with Vikka if she's ready…"

"Grilsha is a problem," Vikka interrupted. She met Rhiannon's eyes for a beat. "How long will you take?"

"We'll give you two hours," Garrett said before Rhiannon could answer. "Then we're coming back to check up on you. I can… cash in some favors with some friends I know, who may be sympathetic to freeing the Shy and kobolds. But first… I need to get word to my wife."

"I can wait," Vikka shrugged, pulling her hood forward while tucking her tail deeper into the robe she was wearing. Standing next to Garrett, the less observant could conceivably assume she was his daughter, who may either be shy or sick. Having tethered Gertie to a tree in a grassy grove just off the road, the mismatched duo split off from the group to skirt the walls and find a less conspicuous entrance into Greyhold.

Veyran ensconced himself deeper into the folds of Rhiannon's hood, cloaking his face and limbs with the locks of her hair.

Rhiannon's group arrived at the gate, and the guard wasn't one any of them personally knew. He took one look at Ashwind and the people on either side of her and launched into his spiel. "Halt! Our orders are to—"

"We have business with the council," Rhiannon declared in her most overseerial of tones while flashing her personal seal.

The guard's eyes swept over Ashwind, clearly a mount too fine for common travelers, then caught on the gem-encrusted gold symbol in Rhiannon's hand. He blinked and tried to hide the look of surprise and apprehension spreading across his face.

Wyatt piped up, adding further to the confused guard feeling out of his depth. "We've come to set things right," he added simply.

The guard looked at him, then at Rhiannon, then at the far parapet where someone was watching and signaling. "You can go in. Another guard will escort you to the council's antechamber," he muttered, and began raising the gate.

They crossed the threshold into Greyhold and were unceremoniously ushered to a nondescript building, composed of a single room furnished simply with benches and a scuffed table. A serving girl brought in water and set it down before they even got to their seats. Another guard took Roddick's spear for safekeeping but didn't dare frisk Rhiannon.

In the time it took to down a glass of water, one of the councilors came to check in on them. He looked much older since the last time Rhiannon could remember seeing him. It wasn't even because of the added grey in his hair, but more the exhaustion deeply etched across his face. He leaned against the table as if needing the physical support to stand.

"Half the council wants to throw you all in the penitentiary," he said matter-of-factly. "Half don't care where you end up, but just want you to fix the mess you all left us in."

"Then you can tell them both the same thing," Rhiannon explained. "We're here to make amends for what we did and what needs to be done. They ought to know that we must free the kobolds from the Brood Barn and to arrange for reparations for all those we unwillingly profited from."

"You mean those… little people?" the councilor asked, a measuring glance flicking to Veyran, who had just poked his head out from Rhiannon's hood. The Deepshy carefully stepped out and balanced on her shoulder, bringing himself to the humans' sight level.

Veyran's voice may have been softer than the humans, but it carried just as much weight. "Short and slight of frame we may be, but we are a free people, nonetheless. We call ourselves 'the Shy'. We are not mere tools or curiosities for you larger folk to exploit."

The councilor blinked, then squinted at Veyran, trying to meet his gaze. "Interesting... What now then?"

"All we claim is a clear compact with humankind. To recognize our rights. To no longer pursue, trap, nor keep us captive against our will. However, with proper compensation, some of us may be willing to eventually contribute to the mutual advancement of our knowledge and technologies. As you can see, we have need of proportionally much fewer resources compared to people your size."

The councilor's mouth shifted from a circle of surprise to a weak smile. "Well said, Shy. Your… stature surely does not correlate with your verbiage. I do believe even if some of us might be willing to hear you out, fewer still may be interested in this 'compact' you propose," he said. "But it would take more than eloquent arguments to convince the majority to humor your demands."

"They need to know the truth first. Or, how will they know what's right?" Wyatt insisted. The councilor raised an eyebrow in response, which was answer enough.

Another set of boots crossed the threshold. A different councilor, this one with the hawkish, pinched look of someone for whom patience and sleep were both in short supply, carried a sheaf of orders. "The council have decided to take this group into official custody," he said, and held out the papers like a shield. "Pending inquiry."

Roddick let out a groan. Rhiannon didn't even glance at the documents. "We presented ourselves to the council willingly," she said. "We're not running. You can assign guards to us if it makes you feel like you've accomplished something. We have the full intention of reporting all pertinent information to the council… and making it worth your while."

The first councilor turned towards the second, lips pursed, eyebrow raised. "Wait here," he coughed, then they both slipped out the door, locking it from the outside. Veyran noticed that they'd left the stack of orders on the table.

When both men had exited, Rhiannon rolled her shoulders and let out the breath she'd been holding since they arrived. Veyran slid off her shoulder to leap down onto the table, and started rifling through the papers, committing names and seals to memory.

A bell outside began to toll in the familiar pattern signaling the end of a work shift at the Greyhold compound.

"Hopefully Garrett and Vikka are doing better," Rhiannon said out loud with an optimistic tone, trying to keep Wyatt's hopes up.

The odd couple of limping man and short, hooded figure traced the edges of the town, watching out for any unguarded cracks through which they could sneak through. Even though Greyhold had thrown up a few new barriers since the big escape, they were nothing a determined kobold and an anxious father couldn't get past.

The Brood Barn stood apparently unchanged behind its stretch of wall. That's until you looked down at the ground surrounding it, into which iron spikes were driven in a tight formation. There seemed to be more guards than before, but they all seemed less vigilant, just going through the motions. Two youths, already either half-sleepy or half-tipsy, were just leaning against the wall, rubbing their arms to help keep themselves awake and warm. Vikka noted their positions, the direction their heads swiveled, and where their eyes looked when patrolling the stretch of ground between the barn and the outer wall. She counted the paces it took them to get from one end to the other before turning.

Garrett traced the new spikes with his fingertips, a low groan escaping his lips. "Well, that's new," he muttered. "Looks like they got serious about security."

"Not really," Vikka said, her eyes already scanning for a weakness. "The guards are sloppy," she whispered back to him, pointing to a gap in the spikes near a vent on one side of the barn.

Garrett followed, his limp more pronounced as he tried to squeeze through the tight space. He grunted, a quiet curse on his breath. "Guess I haven't lost as much weight as I thought."

However, the gap was enough for Vikka to stick her head through until it was pressed against the barn wall. She peeked through a crack where the wooden planks didn't quite fit together, seeing familiar forms resolve in the darkness.

The remaining kobolds looked both more tired and bored compared to when she saw them last. Another human guard was posted inside, but this one was already flat out napping. Grilsha had positioned her mockery of a throne right next to the human. She mumbled something Vikka couldn't clearly hear, upon which her listless court seemed to relax slightly. But she led no singing or chanting, not even a simple, soothing hum.

Vikka sighed. It was clear she couldn't just spring her sisters out willy-nilly, claws slashing haphazardly without a plan. She pulled her head out from the gap between the spikes and backed away from the wall. She was about to confer with Garrett, but he was gone.

The doors reopened and the councilor stepped back into their holding room.

"Come with me," he said, turning around into the corridor.

Rhiannon rose from her seat and gestured to the group that they should follow. She held out her hand to Wyatt. He hesitated for a moment, then, with a shy but determined grip, laced his fingers into hers, clasping them like a lifeline. He wasn't just a servant boy now, but a young man whose words and deeds mattered. Roddick relaxed upon realizing that they were no longer locked in.

Veyran gave Rhiannon a gentle pat on her neck. "I'm right here," he whispered into her ear.

Rhiannon paused, resting her palm on the door before crossing the threshold. There were a hundred ways she could talk to the council about what had brought them to this point. The truth mattered, but which version and delivery of it would work best depended on the specific audience. The first words out of her mouth mattered more than she would admit.

She stepped forward into the corridor. She may lack her usual retinue, but she was hand in hand with a steadfast young boy, while a strange little man, no less resolute, hid in her hood. She remembered the times, not so long ago, when she dreaded facing the council because of the tedious banality of their discussions. She didn't doubt that today's meeting would be the most stimulating exchange she would ever have with them.

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