Focus on not dying, not on how his jaw could cut glass.
“You’re brooding into your porridge,” Peeble observed, landing on my knee. “It’s not that bad.”
“I’m not brooding. I’m thinking.”
“About our fearless leader’s murderous tendencies or his cheekbones?”
I nearly choked. “What? Neither!”
“Liar.”
“I’m thinking about training,” I said firmly, though my face was definitely red. “The Sage said we’d work on shaping exercises today.”
“After what happened with the trees yesterday? You nearly pulled three of them down on us.”
“That was an accident.”
“You said, and I quote, ‘I wonder if I can make them dance.’”
“I didn’t think they’d actually try!”
The Sage appeared then, materializing from wherever mysterious mentors go when they’re not being cryptic. Today they looked more solid than usual, settling on the appearance of a middle-aged person with silver-streaked hair and eyes that held too much knowledge.
“Ready for your first real training?” they asked cheerfully.
“First? What do you call everything else that’s happened?”
“Survival. This is education.” They gestured to the cleared area near the camp. “Today we begin shaping your power properly.”
I stood, brushing crumbs from my clothes. The vine belt had curled itself more comfortably around my waist while I ate.
“Still adjusting to the new clothes?” Vashael asked, noticing my fidgeting.
“My belt just rearranged itself,” I said. “I know it’s supposed to be learning me or whatever, but it’s still weird.”
“Give it another few days. They settle eventually.”
They’d better. The first two days had been a nightmare of fabric that decided on its own when to tighten or loosen. I’d woken up the second morning practically mummified because the shirt thought I was cold. At least now the clothes were getting the hint about personal space.
Other things I’d gotten used to: bathing in freezing streams while keeping one eye out for the water beetles that Vashael swore were “mostly harmless.” The soap concentrate she’d given me that first day worked miracles but smelled like crushed flowers and regret. Eltrien had taught me how to heat water using smooth stones from the fire, which had made everything infinitely more bearable.
And the bathroom situation—well. I’d learned which trees provided the most privacy and which plants were polite enough to look away. A low bar for civilization, but I’d stopped being precious about it after day two when something with too many legs had scared me mid-squat. Sarnyx had laughed for ten minutes straight.
Julian would have had a breakdown by now, I thought, watching the crew go about their morning routines with the casual efficiency of people who’d been living rough for years. He’d have demanded a hotel, proper plumbing, a shower with good water pressure. Would’ve been on the first metaphysical bus back to Earth.
The thought didn’t sting as much as it used to.
“Everything here lives,” Vashael said, apparently reading my expression. “The clothes, the trees, even the water sometimes. You’re doing well, adjusting to it.”
“Weird beats dead, right?”
“Exactly right.”
As I walked to the training area, I caught Kaelren watching me. His expression was cold, calculating. Probably noting how the marks had spread slightly overnight, determining how many more days before he’d need to follow through on his promise to Josephine.
“Focus,” the Sage said, drawing my attention back. “The Root responds to emotion, but it’s controlled by will. Yesterday you shouted. Today, you’llwhisper.”
“How exactly does one whisper to an ancient magical force?”
