The merchant caravan stayed at the Fang tribe for one more night, then set off for the Cinder tribe.
Before their departure, a small Sub-Beast, about six or seven years old, parted the crowd, squeezed to the front, and said to Kaelen and Sane:
"Thank you for saving my Papa. I don't have anything precious, only this pot of red flowers that I have cared for a long time to give to you. I wish you a safe journey."
Kaelen stared intently at the potted plant in the boy's hands, looking for so long that the boy's arms holding the pot began to ache. Perhaps thinking that the two captains looked down on his gift, the boy dejectedly lowered his hands.
Just as the boy wanted to apologize, his hands suddenly felt light. Kaelen had bent down, accepting that wooden potted plant, and softly said his thanks. He squatted down to ask the little Sub-Beast:
"This plant is not suited to be grown in this climate, how did you do it?"
