To come under siege was the inevitable fate of power.


    Pre-Fall writer.


    Everyone was happy to see the walls of Camp David, the Mooneyed scouts more than the rest of the expedition.


    The weather was abominable. Snow covered everything, and the ancient roadway they were relying on to get to and from Washington, D.C., was almost invisible. Without the expertise of the diminutive Changed, it would have been nearly impossible. Both Miles and Petra were delighted to have them along.


    “Never been to the old capital before your previous expedition,” Monica Silvers had said, “but everyone memorizes all the landmarks and ancient maps. Scout job.”


    The weather had turned as soon as they’d entered the city through the same highway they had taken the first time, and they had had to camp inside the Ancient library, even to the point of pulling the oxen inside for safety. While the blizzard raged, they’d started selecting books based on Johanna''s established criteria: the most pages per volume. A lot of the bookshelves had larger books, but once they located some stacks of smaller books, it was merely a matter of bringing them to the entrance hallway, which they’d reinforced with tarps while waiting for the storm to subside.


    Once the worst had passed and the snow stopped, the two Fire Shapers, Jackson Lloyd and one of the Mooneyed scouts – Nothon Marek – united their efforts to clear the snow piles without torching the wagon. Then, it was a matter of transferring the books they’d stockpiled into the crates, checking everything, shuttering the Library of Congress again, hitching back the lumbering beasts of burden, and heading out of the Ancient city.


    They were pretty happy to do that, finally. The musky smell of the Canid mounts did not disturb the Mooneyed riders in the slightest, but it felt very off to the human contingent. Now freed from the confines of the Library, the Canids were happier too, darting everywhere like oversized happy dogs even with the bizarre sight of their riders on them.


    The first section of the return trip was a slog. The oxen didn’t like pressing on with the snow cover much, and while the dozen Mooneyed provided advance scouting, the actual expedition moved only slowly.


    “We’re two weeks late,” Petra noted as the walls of the Camp came into view.


    “Can’t be helped. Usually, we would also hunker down. The last two years also had early hard winters,” Monica replied.


    “We can’t stay long,” Miles added. “We should have been back to Cheat already.”


    This time, they moved the entire caravan inside. The main door of Camp David was barely large enough for the wagon. There were some covered open barns where the draft teams would be better protected for their quick stay. The Mooneyed never had cows; their primary meat sources were chicken and rabbits, with the occasional beast from hunting. The Canid mounts usually ate Changed deer meat, which were numerous in the woods around the place, and which they tolerated perfectly even if their diminutive readers would get sick if they tried it.


    That had been a bizarre factoid for Miles. Most of the Changed could eat some, but usually not all of the flora and fauna from the mana zones, where Changed beasts had zero problems with those. The biggest exception was the Wendigos, who could eat anything they could kill.


    Most of the scouts headed immediately to their houses. Out of deference to the humans, most of them had kept a day schedule, but they did not like it.


    The salvagers headed to the Taller building. They found Marc Versant, looking sleepy-eyed.


    “I got into the whole nocturnal schedule,” the diplomat explained. “Much easier with that.”


    “You made progress?” Miles asked.


    “Most of everything has been hashed out. It is now more of a get-to-know-each-other than practical steps. The Mooneyed have been cut out of the wider world for fifteen decades, and they need to know where they’re going to land once they move.”


    “You’ve decided how and when?”


    “There are several areas in Independence State that are suitable for relocation. There aren’t that many Mooneyed, so they can transplant easily. No, the biggest culture shock they’ll have is that their mounts won’t be the same ever again.”


    “Meaning?”


    “They use the mana zone here to awaken their so-called mount-skills. Without mana zones, they’ll be… lesser.”


    “They won’t need them as much,” Miles noted.


    “It’s a big part of their culture. I don’t think they will abandon them in any case. John Silvers knows it is overall progress for their race, but it will still feel like a loss,” Versant said.


    “In any case, we move out tomorrow.”


    “Good. Not to disparage my hosts, but the Camp is a bit stifling. Someone – me, probably – will be back in the spring to finalize their exodus.”


    “Maybe you’ll hire the Talent House for additional escort.”


    Versant looked like he was going to answer but stopped himself.


    “You leave in the morning, I suppose. There goes my sleep schedule. I think the Ancient called it jet-lag, and I have no idea where that word came from.”


    The Talent House party took refuge in the Taller-sized building. There were multiple bedrooms, and it was warm, which was a change from camping on the snowy road.


    “Halfway back,” Petra said as she settled next to Miles, who was watching through the window as the afternoon light dimmed and snowflakes started to appear again.


    “Not quite. Maybe two-fifth,” he replied.


    “Still. How many books we got?” she asked.


    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    “12-13 thousand? The wagon is packed; I think we’re carrying almost three tons, including the last of the food.”


    “That’s, what, 25,000 parchments? 30,000?”


    “With the book size, possibly. Having them converted already made it way easier to transport.”


    “Will it be enough?”


    “It has to be. That’s less than a third of what we originally had before the Warden’s agents stole that. My hope is that there is a transfer wagon ready at Cheat, and we can come back immediately for more.”


    “Jo said the Ancient guaranteed ‘quality’.”


    “Did he?” Miles snorted. “I guess we’re back on the customized version, like all of us here. It will take a long time to do it individually, then.”


    Miles Bertram was not used to be awakened by a giant bugle sound, but that’s exactly what roused him from the single bed he was in a shared room with Cameron Scott in the other. The Swordbringer was equally startled, the blade left at his bedside jumping – not seemingly, actually jumping – to his hand.


    “What the…?” he mumbled.


    Miles ran out and stumbled out in the night. The snowfall had stopped, and the camp was mostly in the dark, as the local Mooneyed didn’t need much light to see, and the nearly full moon, now visible, provided ample illumination. In fact, he could discern movement as the locals seemed to rush out, too.


    One stopped, and he belatedly recognized Monica Silvers.


    “What is…” he began, but she cut him out.


    “Great Beasts alarm. Long call, multiples.”


    Miles immediately turned back, finding Cameron following him.


    “Get everyone up. We’re under attack!”


    He rushed, catching up with Monica, who ran up a small but useable ladder up to a guard path on top of their palisade. He had to crouch a bit, as the battlements were sized for the tiny Mooneyed.


    “I can’t see anything,” he confessed to Monica.


    “Not much. I wonder…”


    She caught a sprinting Mooneyed and asked him a quick string of questions.


    “Nora Marek came back. Her Courser is bleeding badly. She’s the one who raised the alarm.”


    “Shit.”


    “You’ve got three Fixers now we’re back,” Miles noted.


    She blinked, then facepalmed.


    “It takes a while to get used to having Talents around,” he said. “Worst case, Ignacio is a Deep Fixer, too; he can help.”


    “That’s good.”


    Then Miles snapped back because there was a light at the edge of the fields surrounding the camp’s fortifications. As he watched, a long, sleek silhouette appeared, highlighted by reddish glows coursing around its skin.


    “Fire Felid,” Monica warned.


    “Burning Body,” he guessed. Nobody he knew had taken that talent, but it was an obvious conclusion. And if the Changed Beasts simply had the same Talents as people…


    The light extinguished as the shape moved into the field, but Monica stiffened. He squinted as he spotted another similar shape coming in under the moonlight.


    “Three more,” she warned; he hadn’t spotted them yet.


    He looked up, but the skies were now clear after the afternoon snow. Not a cloud visible, just when he needed one.


    “And it’s commonplace?” he asked.


    “Not every year. This one might be a surge year. They’re less common, but they happen. For some reason, lots of Beasts become Greater, which causes their population to explode the following year, and then they pour out in search of a new territory. We keep the area clear, so it’s a tempting target.”


    “Well, this time, you have a bite,” Miles said.


    “Not much ranged. But for now, we wait to see what they do. With luck, they’ll sniff and ignore us.”


    “Is that likely?”


    “No,” Monica admitted. “Not without trying.”


    “If they try to get in, we’ll be more than ready,” he reassured her.


    “Just that magic healing changes things.”


    “Not just that,” a scout said, and Miles realized he hadn’t noticed him. Then, he recognized Jonas Silver, the Sharp Discreet.


    “I snuck in. They don’t even smell me.”


    “That’s how it works.”


    “There’s only the four. No other tracks.”


    The bugle sounded again, and both Mooneyed abruptly stiffened before looking around.


    “What?”


    “Another alarm.”


    A shout sounded from a different direction and the diminutive scouts jumped off the ledge, sliding down the ladder.


    “Keep watch!” she yelled back before he could try to copy them.


    Miles left them rush to the other front and turned back to the moonlit flats. There were now all four of the Felids prowling and looking at the fortified camp. He flexed his hands, getting ready to bring the chains. Let them try to climb the wall, he had some range with these.


    Just as he was getting ready, one rushed and jumped, claws digging into the hardened wood. The Felid was halfway up, and his chain materialized as he made a whipping motion. The burning chain hit the Felid sideways, and he yowled, losing grip and falling.


    Alas, cats, even Changed ones, fall on their feet all the time. He made the chain move to show them he was ready and let it vanish to conserve mana. The four cats were watching him very carefully.


    He half felt a presence and looked to the side. Petra and Ignacio had just joined him.


    “Told me to reinforce you,” she announced. “With Ignacio has backup in case we need heals.”


    “What’s going on out there?”


    “I have no idea. But the wall is slightly dented, as if something tried to ram it. They’re on top and firing bows and fireballs at whatever.”


    “They know the area; let them deal with it,” he said, looking back at the four Felids. Three of them were sitting on their rear while one was prowling, possibly trying to steel himself for another try at climbing.


    “If that’s how they live, I can’t fault them for trying to leave,” Petra commented.


    “Now that they know the west is safe, the mana zone eventually ends, and the world isn’t all this.”


    There was a massive crash, and Miles squinted. Even with the moonlight, it was hard to see what was happening. He was tempted, but the cats were still looking. Thankfully, the cats weren’t as smart as the unchanged ones in New Sandusky, or they’d try to go around.


    “Fuck,” Petra said, and he turned back to the camp.


    The Changed beast had antlers. The Cervid was also probably 10 feet tall, and was trailing a rope tangled with its antlers and a splinter of a tree trunk still attached as he shook his head furiously, trying to dislodge.


    “Did it blow…” Ignacio whispered.


    “Fire elemental too,” Miles said, pointing at the smoke pouring from the hooves and the snow cover melting.


    The Cervid stopped abruptly.


    “Locked,” Petra called out.


    At the same time, a second Cervid jumped into view. The first raised his head and emitted a scream that did not sound like a deer’s. At the sound, the second Cervid went berserk, charging toward a building.


    Miles was starting to worry when a sound behind him distracted him.


    The four cats were running away. He blinked in surprise, but obviously, the Felids had heard the Changed beast and decided they wanted no part in this.


    By the time he turned back, chaos reigned inside the camp. Three more antler-less gigantic Cervids were running amok. One abruptly stopped as another Earth Shaper locked her in place.


    Arrows came, but he spotted Cameron Scott, sword in hand, rushing to the first elemental Cervid. The Swordbringer attacked from the rear, taking advantage of Petra’s Earthbind lock the hooves. His sword literally sliced the flank, and the Cervid screamed again in agony as he fell, one leg missing.


    The tide was turning. He checked the plains, but there was no trace of the cats.


    “Going in,” he said.


    “Coming as soon as my target is finished, but he’s done, I think.”


    Cameron was rushing toward the bound Cervid, and Miles jumped into the fray.


    “They wanted our stores,” John Silver said.


    “Food? Just food?” Miles wondered.


    “Those Cervids are not the omnivorous variant; they greatly like grain. Otherwise, they might have tried to eat us too.”


    The elder shook his head.


    “Thankfully, with those mount-skills bestowed to people, we lost no one, and our wounded are almost all healed already. Otherwise, we would have lost a lot of people.”


    “Does that happen often?” the diplomat asked.


    Marc Versant was not looking worried at all. Or maybe it was his professional face.


    “No. There’s been damage to the walls before, but not a full break-in. Those Greater Beasts had additional abilities. And in addition, they broke through the storage, and one had some ability – you can smell the grain gone bad. There’s a lot left, but a lot is lost, contaminated.”


    The other Mooneyed muttered, then one whispered into John’s ear. He looked at them.


    “We have lost most of our protection. And there will be famine.”


    Miles winced.


    “I see no solution but to evacuate.”


    “What?” “What?” “What?”


    “With you along, it will be easier. I know you need to go, but we will follow, no matter what. It’s that or starve, assuming no other Greater Beast comes around before we can repair the wall.”