The big cat rose and padded over to sit across the coals from him, extending the two forked tongues that were its speech, as well as its manipulative, organs. "I have eaten well since my escape," it said, gesturing with them, "but I thank you. You handle yourself well in the woods, for a human." "You're the one who's been following me, then?" "I am." "Why?" The tongues twitched in amusement. "Our well-known curiosity. Humans fascinate me--and I have traveled with you before, Ranger Esteban Tarlac. Do you not recognize me?" Tarlac looked more closely at his visitor, and nodded. "Longclaw, isn't it? You were reported dead, shortly after that trip. I'm glad it wasn't true. But why not show yourself before?" "What you were doing was clear; to interfere would not be proper. I came out only to greet you and wish you well." "I appreciate it. After last night, I can use a little normality. Uh, the Traiti know now that you're intelligent. I told them." "Unfortunate." Longclaw gestured a laugh. "I have rather enjoyed frightening those who came here thinking me a wild animal or worse. I believe I have a reputation as a ghost derybach." Tarlac chuckled. "Sorry I spoiled your fun. Maybe I'll see you again later, but right now I have to get moving." "Go with your gods, Ranger." With that, Longclaw rose and was gone, a flash of white vanishing into the trees. Tarlac rose more slowly, buried his coals, and went through his morning routine. Longclaw's visit had brought him back fully to the present, and he was anxious to get back to the clanhome and finish the Ordeal. About two hours' walk later the woods began thinning out, and the stream started veering west. That was a good sign, and Tarlac had to resist a temptation to run; walking would be faster than running himself to collapse and having to recover. He had a momentary sensation of disorientation: In Kranath's time, this had all been wooded, but when the capital had been established atop Godhome, much of the surrounding area had been turned into parks and farmland. Godhome. His thoughts turned back to the psionic computer which had been beneath him for the last ten kilometers. A computer in the shape of a cube, damn near forty klicks on a side. He could no longer comprehend it as he had been able to do in his Vision, but he could still appreciate it, marveling at both the computer and the beings who had created it. Despite everything they'd done and all the powers they had, those who went before weren't gods in any spiritual sense. Like their successors, the Circle of Lords, they were something Tarlac found more understandable: beings who weren't supernatural, but who had achieved their full potential. That, as far as the Ranger was concerned, was several orders of magnitude more acceptable than some immaterial, spiritual essence that demanded worship and obedience on pain of eternal torment.