Chapter 1 Redoux!

The first stealth prologue (only book 1 has one) had some problems. Hopefully this fixed 'em!

Here's the Protagonize version, and you can also click below to read it here. Since this is a rework of the beginning, newbies can dive right in. If you're following the bloggy breadcrumbs, this will take you back to Chapter 2: Dance Lesson

Chapter 1: The Long Night Begins

Robin Priest glared at the moon as if it were the criminal he sought..

It shone bright and full that night, but seemed dim compared to the room he stood in. The inner dome of the observatory was made of mirror, and every brazier was blazing. He hadn’t designed this facility to be used this way; it would have baked a normal stargazer by now. The heat wasn’t nearly hot enough to ignore his commands, however.

The observatory’s ‘lens’ was mostly normal glass; manipulation of light was best left to a lightspeaker. A small portion had been cut to insert a proper lens, however, and it was through this that Robin directed the light to reflect off the moon and scan the forest.

He already knew where his prey was. Two of the physical elements gave him constant updates on the runner’s progress, but to catch him, Robin would need to see him. The observatory made imperceptible adjustments as Robin tried to marry the information from wind and earth with the light from this room, but the intense magnification made it look like he was soaring over the landscape at impossible speeds.

It wasn’t long before Robin found him speeding through a familiar lake. The Priest didn’t know how Johann managed to get so far so fast, but it wouldn’t matter now. Despite the fact that Johann was a waterspeaker - and waterspeakers could travel faster through water than on land - there would be no escape from a lightspeaker of Robin’s caliber.

The light from Robin’s fires would need about five seconds to reflect off the moon and back; this meant the image was roughly ten seconds old. Robin adjusted the angle to where he guessed Johann would exit the lake, then took a deep breath.

This made him nervous. If he missed the moon, he’d never come back again. The fact that the window showed the moon and the small lens displayed the forest was proof he wouldn’t miss, but the prospect was still frightening.

It wasn’t nearly frightening enough to match his hatred. Robin Priest scowled as he let the light take him.

As his being dissolved into pure energy and shot into the sky, so did his hatred dissolve into love. He felt affection for every particle of the world that shrank beneath him as he left it behind. In the two-odd seconds it took him to reach the moon, he boggled over how he could have been so angry with Johann. Sure, he’d wronged Robin, but didn’t Johann’s virtues compensate for that?

Robin ricocheted off the moon’s surface and back towards his home. Perhaps he’d forgive Johann after all. There must have been a good reason. They’d been friends for so long, why betray him now?

The light that carried him was tempted as they hit atmosphere; it was so in love with everything it touched that bits of it broke away to give itself to the upper wind. This was fine, so long as enough of it was left to bring Robin’s substance back to the surface intact. The light loved  Robin even more than it loved Johann, so it would certainly resist temptation long enough to see him to safety.

Robin hit ground and became human once again. Despite the intense disorientation from this transition, Robin managed to cross his arms and resume his hateful scowl. His eyes blinked back into focus, and the hate came rushing back as quickly as he’d abandoned it, for the subject of that hatred stood a meager distance in front of him.

Johann was stunned by Robin’s arrival. He was shielding his eyes, and water still dripped off his arms. Robin took note of the oversight and planned his first attack.

“Why, Johann?” Robin asked, trying not to let his voice crack.

Johann responded by clasping his hands together. A moment later, Robin felt an impact against his forehead; a shot of pressurized water. He rubbed the sore spot and sighed, feeling even more enraged at Johann for insulting him with this prank instead of accepting this chance to explain himself.

“Must you?” Robin fought back tears. “Why won’t you tell me what I’ve done to deserve this? Why has my torment become your life’s only purpose? Make no mistake, if you don’t tell me, I will end it.”

Johann just grinned. Robin was astounded; his friend really did have a reason for his actions. There was something to be gained from Robin’s suffering, something he couldn’t achieve through dialogue. Robin couldn’t imagine what that might be, but from the water Johann was sneakily leeching from the lake, the Priest could tell that Johann believed this was his only option.

Robin wouldn’t wait to see what kind of trap Johann was preparing.

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t have the patience to hear why you waited so long, why you passed on better opportunities to betray me, why you had to involve innocents, or what wrongs you believe you’ve suffered. You never bothered to dry yourself, and just like your crimes, that displays a complete lack of reason.”

Johann tilted his head to one side, confused, but his expression quickly became one of agony. He dropped to his knees and hugged himself as the ice began to form. No magician could control another person’s heat, but the energy in the water that soaked Johann was fair game. By siphoning it out, Robin could indirectly freeze Johann to death. The ice would be excruciating as it froze to his skin, but Robin knew he was giving his former friend a better death than he deserved.

Robin stumbled as the earth sagged beneath him. Startled, he shuffled backward and looked to his feet. It was shallow, but the land had abandoned its natural cohesion and formed a pool of quicksand.

He didn’t notice the howling wind until he regained his balance. Johann was being buffeted by a sustained gust of warm air. Robin could feel the acceleration of heat transferring from air to ice as the crystals softened and fell away from Johann.

Water, air, heat, and earth. Robin frowned as he recounted the elements required to cast these spells.

“So you can speak to more than just the waters,” Robin observed, once the wind subsided. “More lies, though I suppose I should respect how well and how long you told them.”

“Consider it a compliment, Priest,” Johann replied with a smirk. “I obviously wouldn’t have run if I thought you’d be easy, but I’m capable of besting you in combat. I will, if I must.”

“Don’t insult me, you weren’t trying to escape.” Robin shook his head. “Forget it, I’m tired of your manipulations. If you have a backup plan, set it in motion. I’m about to start mine.”

“Don’t pretend you knew this would happen, that we’d be here now. You couldn’t have prepared a trap here, in this specific place. If you could divine the future, you’d have stopped me before we got here.”

“No, I can’t see the future. And I didn’t. This wasn’t for you, but now it is. Stop me if you can.”

Robin understood why Johann would believe he was bluffing. This was something he’d prepared for a much bigger emergency. He’d spent ten years - ten years disguised as an innocent pilgrimage - preparing his nation for a foreign invasion.

A war in Midway was unlikely, but ten years wasn’t even a real sacrifice for a sorcerer like him. As long as war was possible, Robin Priest felt responsible for the protection of his flock. One decade of work had guaranteed their safety from covetous strangers.

Robin was about to use those preparations. It would be like mobilizing an army to stomp a lone scorpion, an overreaction he knew he would regret. He knew it, but that wouldn’t stop him. He began.

Johann yelled something, but the words drowned as the world erupted in sound. The wind roared through the mountains and trees, and the lake began to steam. Dust and clumps of soil pelted both wizards as they were ripped from the ground and thrown high into the sky, where Priest’s clouds began to obscure the moon and stars. Entire groves of trees and the countless strains of lesser fauna sank into the ground to merge into a new, single species, one that quickly sprouted and grew to hundreds of times the size of the old trees.

The landscape reshaped itself according to instructions Robin Priest gave it during the ten years he wandered his homeland. The elements had been waiting and preparing ever since. His army answered the call to stomp this single scorpion.

Johann finally heeded Robin’s advice. He drew a dagger from his belt and trudged forward, shielding his face from the storm with his free arm. As lake and earth continued to feed the thickening clouds, as the trees grew to pierce them, and until no more light could find its way from heaven to earth, the two wizards clashed.

It was sloppy and ugly; neither was used to combat when every element in their environment was already tapped. Neither combatant suffered anything worse than a bruise or scrape by the time the light was gone.

Robin masked a sigh of relief and manipulated his eyes. The forest reappeared around him, painted in the colors of heat. In this new environment, he had options that would normally be unthinkable.

“This is your plan? You think me afraid of the dark, Priest? I can still see you!” Johann’s head - a blob of red, orange, and green - turned to look at Robin. The Priest wasn’t surprised that Johann could also see by heat. It wouldn’t matter.

“Goodbye, Johann,” Robin called. “I wish you would have just lied forever.”

Air, Earth, Water, Electricity, Light, Fire, and Life; seven elements. Three were physical and four were energy. Anyone would be confused by the asymmetry. Was that really all there was to existence? Robin Priest had been able to prove there was more. Luckily, until this moment, the eighth element was his secret. It was too dangerous, and thanks to the forest’s transformation, Robin could rest assured that Johann would only know of it the moment before his death.

The distance between them was unfathomable, but it meant nothing. The eighth element heeded his call, reluctant as always. The heat retreated from the air around its arrival, creating a sphere of complete darkness, even for eyes that saw heat.

Johann swayed, like he’d lost his balance, and then his feet lifted off the ground. He pitched towards the black orb, falling past the ground as though it were the face of a cliff he’d walked off.

Despite his impending death, Johann seemed entranced by the object hiding in the black. He actually reached for it as it pulled him in, accelerating his own death by a fraction of a second just so he could satisfy his curiosity sooner.

The darkness pulverized the bone and compressed the flesh, sucking Johann in like a diner sucks an oyster from its shell. Robin immediately released the spell, shivering a little as he watched a frigid powder - all that remained of Johann - sprinkle down to lose itself in the barren soil.

The complete absence of light meant that any potential witness would need a way to see in the dark, and Robin knew of no method that could help them understand what they saw. Besides, the enormous trees would require them to get close enough for Robin to know they’d seen something, and that would enable him to act.

That didn’t matter. Without proper light, there would be no way to understand. One would have to touch it, and that would instantly kill them. Robin could turn his thoughts to reversing the forest’s transformation…

“Magnificent!” Johann exclaimed from behind him, his tone of admiration. “Truly, Priest, you surpassed my expectations.”

Robin turned around slowly, begging his senses to be wrong; yet there he was. Johann, whole and healthy, grinned and walked towards him. His arms were outstretched, as if he intended to embrace Robin.

“How did you know where to look?” Johann was beaming. “How did you come into contact? How did you manage to study something so distant and so dangerous?”

Robin slumped to his knees. It was over. Robin Priest was a legend here, known as the only master of all seven of the known elements. The fact that Johann survived meant he knew things even Robin didn’t. Not only had Johann hidden the fact that he was more than just a waterspeaker, he had managed to hide a potential that dwarfed a legend’s.

Robin considered for a moment. Was he certain this was really Johann?

“Ah,” the enemy rubbed the back of his head. “I suppose I wouldn’t have needed to go to such extremes if you’d just tell whoever asked.”

Far too late, Robin finally understood. He’d been such a fool. In his agony, he hadn’t been able to make sense of why someone would go to so much trouble just to torture him. The answer was simple, a tactic as old as theater: to learn a person’s deepest secrets, you must push them to the edge of madness.

Like a desperate, stupid beast, Robin had used his deepest secret to lash out at his aggressor. If only he’d realized, he could have just let Johann push him into the abyss. Instead...

“A straight transaction, then?” Johann, or whoever this person was, continued. “Information for information?”

Robin scoffed at the prospect. There was no way he’d agree to that. He’d done this lunatic enough favors, had dealt enough damage for one lifetime. When this conversation was over, Robin was convinced he would be killed, and Midway was doomed to slowly starve under this impenetrable darkness - his darkness.

The only choice he had left was whether he would empower his killer with even more knowledge. While Robin had never met anyone as capable as he was, at least until today, there must be more of them out there. The world was too vast for him to stand alone at the top. The same was true for this magician.

Whether his avenger came tomorrow or in six generations, Robin certainly wouldn’t make their job any harder than it had to be. Even if it was information his killer was now empowered to find on his own, Robin would force him to make that extra effort, no matter how menial.

Robin sighed and let the fatigue take over. His last labor, that transformation of this landscape into a permanent night, had been a bad one. He hoped that someone could make some eventual good of it.

Maybe we'll do a new survey. Maybe not! These are just to get you rolling, SKIP ANY AND ALL IF YOU HAVE ENOUGH TO SAY WITHOUT THE SILLY QUESTIONS!

1. Were you entertained?

2. Was there tension/suspense? In other words, did you feel the kind of stress or curiosity that kept you reading Harry Potter/The Da Vinci Code/your favorite books?

3. Did you understand what was going on? Not behind the scenes, mind you; hopefully it's obvious that there are things I'm not going to tell you yet, events that are referenced but not explained. Did you understand what was happening in the present? To put it another way, did you feel like you could follow the action?

I'ma harp a bit on this point this time. Robin Priest uses two spells against Johann(?) here: one he prepared over 10 years as a blanket defense for Midland (against any foreign invasion and any tactic), and then the spell consisting of the 8th element that appears to kill Johann(?) by pulling him in and crushing him. It's important that the reader understands these are two different spells; he transformed the landscape in order to prevent any unlikely bystanders from gaining a clue about the 8th element, which was what he used to kill Johann(?).

It's important to understand it was the first spell that transformed the environment into what eventually becomes known as "the Dawnless Woods." So, did that come through in the narrative?

4. Did you ever struggle with the language? Was there ever a time you couldn't determine a word's meaning without looking it up? It's fine if you could tell what it meant from the context of the words around it.

5. This one may not be fair, but if you had stumbled upon this post by accident, would you have suspected it was me who wrote it? Was it obviously amateur, or could you believe it was written by a professional?

Chapter 10: Survival Lesson

This completes the first draft of the first novella. A major no-no in the publishing industry is to start a project that only works as a series. In other words, you need to be sure each episode works on its own.

I fully intend this to be a series, and I'm not even sure we're going to take the traditional publishing route, yet I've tried to keep that mantra in mind as I've gone along. If this story doesn't work, if you don't feel satisfied at the end, then I've failed.

Tell me if I've failed, mistakes have the same appeal as scars!

With the conclusion of book 1, it occurs to me that we haven't named it yet. Sure, Arbiter is what I call the series, just like George R R Martin calls his series "A Song of Ice and Fire." (Most) nobody else does, though. To the audience, all of 'em are "Game of Thrones", which is just the title of the first book (and TV series, but I think that's only because the book audience clung to Game of Thrones over Ice and Fire.)

I'm not saying I need a title as iconic as that one. In fact, I'd like a title that only works for this episode. Sure, it helps to be catchy and provocative, but I also don't want it to be able to describe the series as a whole.

So with all that in mind, ya feel like helping? I'll continue brainstorming on me own, but this is an open invitation to pitch your own ideas.

Surviving in the wild is hard. Surviving wild magic is harder. I guess I should work on the pitch later, but I can use something like that.

Alrighty then. Guess we should get to the point.

The project began here, but that chapter's been reworked. If you want to read it from start to finish with the fewest interruptions possible, you probably want this one. If you're current and ready to go, you should click here or down below.

Chapter 10: Survival Lesson

The walk out of the forest was very different from Dahlia’s trip into it. First, it was slowed by the constant need to stop and paint a rotting log or pile of animal remains. The silence was gone, lost to her companions’ constant calls and the usual flirt-argument between Evan and Nuray. She swore the noise made the darkness brighter, somehow.

Dahlia could hear other noises, from time to time, but whatever was making them never seemed to come any closer. Chomp was as powerful a deterrent as the elder had expected.

What made the path familiar was Dahlia’s growing animosity. Perhaps it was the distracting banter of Evan and Nuray, the snails’ pace they were making because the elder was intent on exhausting the lummush they’d brought, or the creeping fatigue from her earlier insomnia, but all of it felt like hatred for what Chomp had done to her older siblings.

It had fluctuated with each of the many events that night, had retreated when other matters took precedence. Now that the danger was over, there was nothing between Dahlia and her need for vengeance. If she understood the elder, Dahlia would not be getting that vengeance, and that was becoming less acceptable with each passing second.

The elder could see in the dark, Dahlia had become sure of it. It was a mysterious knowledge, because she was accepting it without understanding how it could be true. After the elder finally took a break from overseeing the lummush planting, Dahlia began to suspect the crone could feel other people’s emotions, too. Why else would she use that time to lecture the apprentice hunter?

“What happened tonight, Dahlia?” the elder asked.

“Huh?” Dahlia didn’t grasp her meaning. Hadn’t the elder been paying attention?

“I’d like to hear your version of the story, dear. What happened, starting from when you first saw Chomp?”

“ ‘e killed Nikhil.” Dahlia scowled. “Chomp marched inta camp and took me older brother from me, broke ‘is neck in front of me. I tried ta kill ‘im m’self, followed ‘im into the woods when that di’in’t work. Nuray n’ Evan followed mah trail, then you did, and we brought Chomp down, but only for a moment. Then you…” Dahlia did her very best not to sound accusatory, but she was sure she failed. “... you made friends with ‘im.”

Dahlia couldn’t see, yet she was convinced the elder nodded. “Aye, that seems accurate enough. You made a very good choice tonight, Dahlia, do you know which choice that was?”

Dahlia considered. “Followin’ Chomp so we wouldn’ lose ‘im.”

“Very good, that is correct,” the elder confirmed.  “It was very brave, lass, and very smart. Now, you also made a mistake tonight. Do you know what that was?”

Dahlia frowned. “No.”

“You attacked Chomp before you followed him,” the elder replied. “You attacked him even after Nikhil did, even after seeing the consequence of that attack. You were inviting death, dear, provoking someone so much stronger than yourself. I understand why you did. Can you tell me why you shouldn’t, though?”

“No.” Dahlia knew the elder was right, that Chomp could have killed her. Still... “I’m still breathin’, so it weren’t a mistake.”

“Just because a mistake goes unpunished doesn’t mean it stops being a mistake.” The elder paused to consider her words. “Think, dear, if he had decided to fight back. You’d be dead, you’d never have followed Chomp, and we’d be down five hunters instead of four. He might have hunted us for years to come, might have forced us to never make camp here again.”

Dahlia didn’t respond. She didn’t like what the elder was saying, but she couldn’t deny it.

“There’s no shame in making mistakes as long as you don’t make them twice.” The elder sounded patient, and Dahlia knew she wouldn’t let this go. “I need to know that you understand your mistake.”

Dahlia growled, frustrated but defeated. “Aye, ‘twas a mistake. If I had another try, I’d do things different.”

“Very good. You made a mistake and a brilliant maneuver tonight. Now that you understand them, you can be proud of both.”

Dahlia considered. The idea felt good. At first, she didn’t think someone could be proud of their mistakes. Now, though, she thought mistakes might have the same appeal as scars. People loved to brag about their scars.

“Now we need to talk about Chomp, Dahlia.” The elder sounded nervous.

Dahlia scowled into the dark. “What about ‘im?”

“You still hate him.” The elder wasn’t asking a question. That was good; if the elder had to ask, it would mean she was too stupid to realize that Dahlia shouldn’t be the only one who hated him.

“ ‘e killed some of our family!” Dahlia trembled in her fury. “ ‘e wronged us and wasn’ punished for it! It’s wrong, elder, ya shoulda let Nuray keep the rope tight and starve ‘is brain.”

“We were wronged, it’s true.” Despite the acid in Dahlia’s words, the elder was composed. “But he didn’t know he was wronging us, Dahlia. He made a mistake. Four mistakes. Now that he knows they’re mistakes, it doesn’t do any good to punish him. He’ll hurt forever for what he’s done to us, Dahlia. He’s been punished as much as will ever matter.”

“An’ how will ya show yer face to us if ‘e ever does it again?” Dahlia spat. “ ‘ow’re we supposed ta go inta camp and explain why we ain’t done right by Kadmus an’ Conan, Gelilah, an’ Nikhil? They gonna be jus’ as mad as I am because this furry idiot still breathes and four of me family don’t.”

“Aye, they’ll be angry. You let me worry about their anger. If I can manage yours, I can manage theirs.”

“Ya ain’t done mine yet.”

“Sure, you’re still mad. Now, and for a long time to come. There’s no way to undo the hurt when a bone is broken, the memory will always be there. You’ll have to feel it, you’ll have to remember. You don’t have any choice about that. But even if you break all the bones on every creature you come across for the rest of your life, this won’t be any less true: Breaking other bones doesn’t cure your hurt.”

“ ‘e should hurt right along with me.” Dahlia insisted.

“Perhaps. I’d say he is, but I understand you don’t believe me.”

“If he was, if he unnerstands, then why’d he kill ‘em in th’ first place?!”

“For the lummush plants, dear, it was a hunt.”

“What?!”

The elder paused, seemed confused. “Oh, right. Forgive me child, I forgot. The glowing bush and mushrooms, I’m sure you saw them, right? You certainly can’t see much else in here.”

“Aye.”

“They were growing out of Kadmus’s body. The smaller ones took root in Gelilah and Conan.”

Dahlia needed a few moments to make the connections. “So ‘e killed Kadmus…”

“Or perhaps found his body,” the elder interrutped.

“... and thought tha’ any people with the lummush marks would grow inta food when they died.”

“And they would, as it turns out. The mistake was that he doesn’t need the people to make them grow, that the lummush doesn’t come from our bodies. He thought he was hunting for survival, Dahlia. He didn’t understand there was a better way. Now he does, or he will when all these markings begin to grow. The world is better for this night. Nobody benefits by making an enemy of Chomp.”

“He hurt us more than ‘e’s hurtin’. That still ain’t right.”

The elder sighed. They walked in silence for a moment.

“Oy, spread it out more, big guy!” Evan was lecturing Chomp as if his student understood. “Th’ seeds’re gonna need room ta breathe! The paste ain’t like you, fatso. If it gets bulkier, i’s just gonna smother i’self.”

“Say we attacked him again, Dahl,” The elder said. “Say we fought and we got him, but just as he died, he lashes out and smashes Evan. Think of how that would make you feel.”

Dahlia cringed, but didn’t say anything.

“With that in mind, ask yourself this question: If you only had two choices, which of these would you choose: Evan and Chomp both die, or they both live. Which do you choose?”

It wasn’t a realistic question. Reality was never that simple. Dahlia knew that Chomp could be killed without losing anybody, just like she knew there was a chance Chomp could kill more hunters and then escape. The elder had to know that too, yet she asked anyway, and part of Dahlia knew there was wisdom in the question.

“Survival comes first, Dahl, comes before anything. When we started this clan - I was there at the start, did you know that? - anyway, when we started, we came together even though none of us knew each other. Most of us hadn’t even come from the same nations. We had nothing to bind us together aside from the fact that none of us had anywhere to go. Our only choice was to create a place, to work together in order to endure the harsh wild. We used each person’s strengths to compensate for another’s weakness.”

“Aye,” Dahlia agreed. She hadn’t really known the history, but she did know that’s exactly what the clan had done ever since she’d been part of it. “We’re family, an’ that makes us strong.”

“Yes.” The elder smiled, Dahlia could hear it in her voice. “We didn’t know that we’d be family when we started, though. We cooperated because we needed to, but before long, we were cooperating because we wanted to. There were less arguments, less complaints, more volunteering. The work was harder than anything we’d known before, but once we got accustomed to it, we all wanted to do our part.”

Dahlia hadn’t been there, but she could imagine it.

“That’s because we fell in love with each other, Dahlia. Our need for a stranger’s strengths became more than a need. We remembered when someone did us favors, and others remembered the ones we’d done them. None of us were blood, but we became family because the family bond is what makes us human. It seemed to happen by accident, but it wasn’t an accident, Dahl. People became more than animals because we are capable of love, because love lets us work together in ways that most beasts don’t. To love is to survive, and survival comes first.”

“I ‘aven’t forgotten love, elder.” Dahlia assured. “I’m angry, but I still love my family.”

“I know, child. I just want to be sure you put that love above your hate. If the world were better, maybe it would be best for Chomp to die for what he’s done. But in this world, we’d be risking someone we love to make that happen. I don’t think it’s worth the risk, Dahlia. That’s all I’ve been trying to say. I love you, child, and nothing could make me sadder than losing you because you couldn’t beat your hate.”

Dahlia heard a scraping of wood from high above them.

“Dahl!” The elder cried.

“Aye!” Dahlia assumed a defensive posture.

Chomp grunted, and a mighty rush of air brushed over their heads. There was an impact, followed by a pained squeak. Whatever had been dropping down bounced hard off the ground before rolling away.

Their attacker’s fellow stalkers pounced. There were several seconds of slashing, piercing, splashing, and screeching. A few faint glimmers of light and an enormous sigh marked the creature’s death.  The ensuing silence was abrupt and heavy.

Once they were sure it was over, the elder and the older hunters laughed.

“Kinda tense, ain’t they?” Evan chuckled.

“That first one couldn’ handle it.” Nuray agreed. “Poor thing wouldn’t ‘ave lasted long even if ‘e’d never met Chomp. Gotta be patient in ‘ere.”

“This doesn’t redeem you, Chomp,” the elder warned. “But it’s a good start.”

Dahlia turned to look towards Chomp, knowing she couldn’t see him. The combination of the elder’s lecture and his handling of the interruption caused her to forget her hatred again. This time, she couldn’t feel it creeping back, and she was grateful.

“Let’s paint the carcass,” the elder suggested. “It should yield a good crop.”

“They di’n’t take it?” Dahlia was surprised.

“We ain’t followed by hungry hunters, Dahl,” Nuray explained. “These be killers, like Stinger.  I’d say we should be grateful fer Chomp, but ‘e’s the one who took us that deep, an’ made all the noise tha’ brought ‘em to us.”

“Forget the blame,” the elder said. “Let’s be grateful.”

They continued their slow trek long into the night. By the time they reached the forest’s edge, they’d used all but a quarter-ball of the twelve lummush lumps they’d entered with.

“Give that last bit to Chomp,” the elder ordered. “It’s just going to dry out if we keep it.”

Curiously, Chomp didn’t seem tempted to eat it. At different times, Dahlia thought Chomp was surprisingly smart or unbelievably stupid. She was becoming more certain of the former; maybe he’d actually learned the lesson that the elder was working so hard to teach him.

The rest of her family was waiting when they returned to camp, and as the returning group expected, they didn’t react well to seeing Chomp return with them. After the initial panic wore off, most of the clan was ready to mob him.

The elder, Evan, and Nuray all began to voice their personal arguments at the same time, but Dahlia’s patience had been exhausted. She yelled loudest, which seemed to surprise her audience. They yielded their voices to hers.

“What would any of ya do if a clan o’ rabbits came lookin’ ta gut us fer all the bunnies we ate?”

Nobody answered in the pause she gave them.

“Wouldja lay down and let ‘em nibble yer heads off? Wouldja fight back? They ain’t likely ta win if ya do, ain’t no amount of rabbits can take a hunter down. Whichever ya chose, I can tell ya one thing fer certain: if ya knew th’ rabbits wanted revenge for all the soup we’ve made, ya know ya’d never hunt rabbits afterward.”

She didn’t wait for an argument, nor did anyone offer one. Dahlia trudged back towards her tent, head stooped and shoulders sagging. The elder was explaining her plans for Chomp, something about how he’d remain and they’d seek him out next time they came, but she was too tired for details.

There was much to be done before everyone could go back to sleep, and she was grateful the clan wouldn’t need her to be among those who toiled into the morning. Despite the void he’d created, despite the trouble he’d caused, Dahlia felt sorry for Chomp. He’d never had this luxury, could never trust someone else with his survival when all he wanted was a little rest.

If Dahlia were in his situation, she wasn’t sure she could resist harvesting a few hunters for some easy food, even if she was aware of how it hurt their kin. At least the kin would still have each other. No matter how strong Chomp was, his solitude would be a fatal weakness, a burden far heavier than any Dahlia would have to carry.

Dahlia collapsed onto her furs, praying that she’d still be this wise in the morning.

1.) Too much dialogue in this one? Did the conversations keep your interest? And as always, was there ever a moment where you couldn't tell who was talking?

2.) How were dem feels? Were you emotionally invested, could you feel sympathy for each character?

3.) Any trouble understanding what was going on?

Extra credit: the meta-critique.

A.) Tension is created by asking questions the reader wants to see answered. We keep reading because we want to see some payoff for our investment. So? Any satisfaction in the payoff in this book?

B.) Were you disappointed we didn't see more of any given character or feature we've been exposed to? Any "whatever happened to ______"?

C.) You've seen some of my vision for Arbiter as a series, a very small tidbit of the atmosphere I felt inspired by. There's a lot more to come, some huge themes I couldn't touch on yet. Still; you have an idea about the world the clan lives in, you have a setting (the Dawnless Woods and its edge), you know a few of the people who live there, and you've experienced some of the challenges they face. Summarily:

Is there anything you get from Arbiter, any hints in this story, any moments that suggest you can find some feature here that you aren't likely to find in other fiction? Even if the answer is 'no,' is the stuff you've seen before enjoyable enough to make you interested in the next installment?