Weeks passed while the refugees ate and made new clothes from the fibers of the plants Findel and Isecan grew. They dressed themselves and flesh returned to their bones and the flush of health to their skin. Despite their initial sense of relief, the nights grew colder, and frost rimed the ground in the night. Their garden withered and died within a few days if Findel and Isecan did not again draw on the strange power that the people had begun to call the Current of the Wellspring.

The Vien had lived as foragers for time immemorial, but they cultivated as much as lived in the jungles of their homeland, and they knew that the cold winds blowing off the oceans and the nights of frost were chilling the plants. Beyond their little garden, the plants that were not under the influence of the Current went dormant. A change of seasons approached, and it was not favorable. The question was how bad it would get. They had come so far from their home. Vah had no measure for such distances. They had roamed their forests and counted only days. In the preceding months, they had walked far and hard for a hundred days and more, at first trying to outrun the monsters that had devastated their home and feasted upon their people. . . at first. Vah realized now that the rest of the survivors had somewhere along the line started a journey toward something.

As the weather cooled and the winds grew stronger, Findel spent more and more time away from the company of the rest, sitting beside the pool of steaming water, his legs folded and eyes closed. He forbid the others from approaching, saying it was too dangerous, but Vah often went and looked down at him, wondering. He could not shake a feeling of dread, and yet everything that had happened was good, of itself.

Then one day, Findel returned from the Wellspring to the camp at the tir, and he gathered all the Vien together. Climbing up onto some rocks so that he could be seen and heard above the people, he spoke in a clear voice:

"For months we fled, hope forgotten like a dream every new morning. I thought we would watch our people give way to nothing, and that no memory of us would remain within the trees. But then the Wellspring called to us from afar, and here we have come, and here we have found life."

There were other troupes of Vien to the south and to the east of their home forests. They lived too far for frequent meetings, and their words were not always clear. Whether the quth had struck them as well, Vah did not know, but the monsters had come from the south. Vah looked around. All eyes were on his brother. No one so much as whispered, no one glanced away—besides him. Findel continued:

"But it is not enough to save ourselves only. I have meditated, and I see that we must continue our people. We do not know who else may have survived the attack of the quth." The word meant simply, monsters. "Many of us lost those we loved, but the only way to continue their memory is to plant new Trees for our people, to mate and bear children. I know our grief is fresh, but we must set it aside. We are a remnant, and cannot continue the courtship and rituals of our people, though perhaps our children might. We are too few. Because of this, those young and able to take a mate and bear children will be paired together." Findel paused, gazing at the sky for some reason. "To show that I will submit to the same demands," Findel said, "I will take the widow Tessiel as my wife."

Vah gaped. Findel had to be joking. After the loss of her babe so recently, buried just over—Vah squinted. The cairn was gone. Where had the cairn gone? Vah looked to Tessiel, but she, like the others, stood passively listening. Her expression was so blank that he couldn't tell if she'd heard.

"How will the pairs be chosen?" Elnwë asked. He was still young and strong, and he had never married.

"I will choose the pairs," Findel answered. Elnwë looked as if he was about to speak again but Findel raised a hand. "We cannot take into account our feelings. This is for the future, to establish our Trees afresh." Findel looked around again, as if waiting to see if anyone else would speak, but none did.

Vah could not believe it. The mating rituals were the most important of all. It could take years to complete the courtships, to gain the approvals of the patriarchs and matriarchs, to woo and to win and to demonstrate to the troupe the fitness of the mating. He stared at the slack faces of the others. How could no one respond to this? Even with the elders gone, lost to the quth, they could not just throw everything away.

"My brother Isecan will take Selniel. My brother Vah will take Tlethiy—"

At the sound of his name, Vah recoiled.

"No, I won't," Vah said. Findel looked startled.

"What?"

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"I won't. I will not participate in this." It was not because of Tlethiy. She was lovely, especially now she had regained some look of health. At the same time, he also knew that he was neither the youngest nor the halest, nor the most pleasing to the eye. He would not be forced upon anyone, nor force himself. He had never gone through the rituals before, and he would not do this thing.

"There are more vienu than vien here," Findel said. "Would you force a vienu to die childless?"

"It is not I who forces," Vah said, even as he felt a tremor of guilt at Findel's question. Vah knew that many vien able to fight had stayed behind to allow their vienu and children to flee. Many had fled days before Findel, Isecan, and Vah watched the forest burning. Findel's wife died with her stomach pierced. Only then had they abandoned their trees and overtaken others in flight. It had been chaos, with no leadership, no one to tell them what to do or how, or when to fight or flee. It was natural that Findel step into the gap.

But this. . . this was beyond reasonable.

"It is not up to you," Findel said. "I command it." His older brother stared at him, his hands twitching, but Vah folded his arms and frowned.

"No. Pass me by."

There was a certain pleasure in seeing Findel at a loss for words or deeds, even though Vah felt the eyes of the people upon him. It did not take Findel long to regain his composure, choosing to move on rather than argue further.

"Theniel will take Tlethiy, then. And Elnwë will take Mirnen." The list went on, until the halest and youngest were paired. A few married couples had survived together, and they were left alone. Many other survivors were still mere youths. None of the aged had survived for long. In the end, it was only a few of the vienu at the later edge of their child-bearing years who were left out of the selection. At least Findel was not so brazen as to give more than one to a vien. Even as it was, how could his people tolerate this? Had they so lost their dignity? Was it truly Vah who was mad?

"Isecan, Theniel, Elnwë, Torthel, Ieloe, Neyelin, and your new mates, stay. The rest may go and harvest for a meal. Tonight we spend in feast and union."

Vah did not go, for he wanted to hear what else his brother had concocted.

"What else is it brother?" Isecan asked. Vah knew that Isecan had always gone along with Findel's ideas and plans, but could he truly follow this without a word? Or had they already discussed it without him?

"This is to be our home hereafter," Findel said. "Our people will live here around this tir, near to the Wellspring where the Current is strongest. But we must know all we can about this land, and gather whatever plants might be found."

"I understand."

"Lead this group and learn all there is about this land. Do not go farther than you can return in a month's time. You leave in the morning."

"And for food?"

"You may grasp the Current, but only to feed yourselves."

Isecan nodded.

"That is all," Findel said. "Go prepare."

Vah turned to go. He wanted to get away and have time to think.

"Vah, wait."

He turned. Findel was still standing on the rocks.

"If you want to talk to me, you'd best come down here," Vah said.

Findel squinted, but then smiled and leapt lightly down.

"I just wanted to be heard."

"You've never had difficulty with that."

"This is not normal life, Vah. The way things were before, they cannot now be."

That was true. Vah didn't respond.

"Do you really not sense the Current?" Findel asked.

"No!" Vah snapped, raising his hands in frustration.

Findel shook his head.

"It is like nothing else."

"I believe you. I've seen what it has done."

"Good, good," Findel said. "It has saved our people. You see that, don't you?"

"It has saved us, yes."

"Will you not take a wife? You are my brother. It is not too late."

"I will not be forced upon anyone."

"It is not like that. What we do is to preserve our kind."

"How are you making them obey you?" Vah asked. "Is it this Current that makes them so?"

"I am not making them. They feel the Current as well. And they know that the decisions I make are best for our people. For the existence of our people." Findel took a step closer a laid a slender hand on Vah's shoulder. "I know it has been a sore trial, brother. We have all come through so much. But now it is time to lay the foundation for a new life."

Vah lowered his eyes, looking at his brother's marred hand.

"How do we know we can rely on this Current? We know next to nothing about it."

"You wouldn't ask that if you could feel it."

"Why did you not ask for the thoughts of others before you did this? We could take counsel together."

Findel smiled and let his hand slide away.

"You are right. I will try to take counsel with you. But I had meditated upon this in the Current. No one else fought it, did they? It is well, brother. I love you, and I love our people. Do not forget that."

Vah sighed.

"Now, let us go feast," Findel said. "Come! There is yet some joy in the world, if we will find it." Findel held out a hand to the side, and Vah turned to look. Tessiel was standing a short distance away, waiting. Now, she came and took Findel's hand. She looked tired, more than anything. There was no sign of joy there, whatever Findel might say.

"Tessiel. . ." Vah said. "Are you well? Is this what you want?"

"It is for our people," she said, looking Vah in the eye. "We must look to the future, not the past."

Vah glanced back at the tir-side where so recently a little cairn had lain surrounded by sorrel. Could he bring himself to believe this? He stared again at her face, hoping for some sign, but Findel led her away. She went without complaint or hesitation.

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