The two walked across the plain, sleeping by day, traveling at night. Lucas learned how to feel the heartbeat of the planet through his feet, to sense every insect, every flicker in the wind, to smell every scent, to know by touch and smell which plants were good for Humans to eat. He slept curled up next to the Azuli and no nightmares tormented him.

A blond, bearded man dressed in supple, old silverdeer leather waited for Lucas at the mouth of the Azuli canyon, the morning they arrived. He sat on a wide, flat boulder, cleaning his fingernails with a stone knife while he watched the boy and Azuli come closer. He nodded to the Azuli, who nudged his hand with its nose and then darted past him, down the rocky slope into the canyon. Lucas waited, afraid the Azuli wanted him to go with this man.

Then he wondered: Why be afraid? Anyone who got this close to the canyon had to be a Wildling.

"You must be something special, boy," the man said. He gestured for Lucas to take a seat. "I'm not even allowed this close, but Scar Foot nearly dragged me here yesterday afternoon. How'd you keep from getting caught?"

"Hid." Lucas shrugged, finally sitting down. He liked this man. There was something familiar about him. For all he knew, he had seen this man's face in his dreams, in that strange, silent, sensed communication from the Azuli.

"We all hide. Some are better than others. The Azuli help, but they don't get too close to Humans." A grin cracked his face when Lucas opened his mouth to correct him. "Wake up, boy. We're not Humans anymore. Wildlings are something new. Chorillan has claimed us and changed us." His eyes narrowed. "Where'd you get that scar? Hunters?"