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said. “I’ll take her from here.”
    “I’m sure you will.” Daria gave him a sly grin. “And get my brother out of bed so he can fix this wall.”
    Etarek took back the reins, and Sura let her pace lag so she could walk slightly behind him—to examine him for menace, of course. As they passed through the treeless firebreak, the late-morning sunlight glinted off his long, red ponytail. His face was obscured by the green camouflage paint, but his smile seemed genuine and a quickness sparked within his bright blue eyes.
    What she noticed most was the way he walked, with his shoulders back and chin high. In the streets of Asermos, such a posture would get him beaten. The Descendants preferred Sura’s people to slink.
    They entered the cover of deep forest again, and her eyes strained to adjust in the shadows.
    “What did Daria mean,” Sura asked, “you should hope I’m nothing like Dravek?”
    Etarek laughed. “You know what Snakes are known for.”
    Her face heated. “It’s not true. I mean—not always.”
    “Which part, setting fires or having an unnaturally high sex drive?”
    “Uh…” She pushed down her embarrassment, remembering that Kalindons were more open about these matters than Asermons.
    “Just remember, it’s a small village.” They rounded another large boulder. “Speaking of which.”
    Sura had heard many tales of Kalindos, but the sight of it made her feet stop fast, her right toe clipping her left heel. She pitched forward, and Etarek grabbed her elbow to keep her from falling.
    “Don’t worry.” He patted her shoulder. “It happens to every newcomer.”
    She wiped her rapidly warming cheeks and looked up. Far above her head lay a network of wooden homes, built against and even around the tree trunks. Some stood alone and some were connected by wooden bridges to other houses. Most were half the size of the home she’d lived in with her mother, but a few looked like they held several rooms. Above and to her right, a man and a woman stood together on a porch watching a young boy climb the rope ladder to their home.
    Sura’s neck grew stiff from looking up. She rubbed it and squinted down the main path. “Where can I find Tereus?”
    “He’s at the weekly Council meeting. His wife Elora’s the Council leader.” He handed her Bolan’s letter. “I’ll stable your horse, and you go to the meeting.” He pointed through the trees at a small group of people gathered in a distant clearing. “Good luck.”
    She gave him a grateful nod and hurried off. By the time she reached the clearing, some of the people had seated themselves in a ring formed by seven flat stones. A few dozen stood on the outskirts, leaning against trees with their arms crossed, as though prepared to wait a long time.
    Sura wasn’t prepared to wait at all. She pushed through the crowd, ignoring their surprised gasps. Certainly she made a ragged appearance, with her disheveled clothes and mud-streaked face and hair.
    When Sura reached the edge of the circle, a woman with blond-gray hair—Elora, she assumed—was standing in the center, addressing the Council. Sura stepped between two stones to enter the circle.
    The woman merely blinked. “Hello. Please introduce yourself and state your business.”
    “My name is Sura.” She heard a man behind her gasp. “My father is Lycas the Wolverine and my mother is Mali the Wasp.”
    The murmurs increased in volume. Several pairs of eyes shot her skeptical looks.
    She pulled out Bolan’s letter. “I have proof.”
    “I don’t need proof.” A man with a long gray braid moved in front of her. “I’m Tereus the Swan. Your father is my stepson.” He examined her face and smiled. “It’s been ten years, but I’d know those eyes anywhere, granddaughter.”
    She stared at him, her throat tightening. She remembered Tereus from her earliest memories—which, not coincidentally, were also her best memories.
    “ I’d like proof,” said a younger Council member to her