Kirito rippled blue-grey longing, then brown embarrassment at her selfishness.

Ilto held out a clenched fist and flushed faintly purple. They were going to kenja for the privilege.

They put their hands behind their backs, counted to four, then held out their hands. Kirito’s hand was cupped into the mouth position, Ilto’s fist was flattened into a leaf. Mouth eats leaf. Kirito had won the right to work with the new creature. A ripple of deep green satisfaction crossed her skin.

Ilto and Ani stood watching as Kirito linked with it. She concentrated hard, her nictitating membranes half-covering her blank, unfocused eyes. Gradually the creature’s labored breathing eased, and became steady.

Kirito removed her spurs from the creature, took a deep breath, and looked up at Ilto. “I’ve helped it a little, but I need to do some deep work to stabilize it. Will you monitor me?”

Ani’s ears lifted, this time in surprise. Deep work was dangerous. She remembered the first time she had attempted it. She had become so attuned to the bird she was working on that her heart began to lose its rhythm and her metabolism fluctuated wildly. Despite Ilto’s careful monitoring and rapid intervention, she’d been in a coma for a full day. It had taken six days for her body to return to normal. Now Kirito and Ilto were going to attempt deep work on a creature whose cells were unrecognizably bizarre. It was dangerous, even for them, the two most senior elders in the village. An orange-thread of fear flowed slowly down Ani’s back.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Kirito?” Ilto asked her.

“I’m ready,” she said. Her skin was a calm, resolved chartreuse. “Kiha can fill my place if I die.”

“So am I,” Ilto told her. “Ani is also ready to become an elder.”

The stinging stripes on Ani’s back tightened.

“No, siti. Not yet,” she pleaded, her words pale grey with dread. “There’s so much more to learn. I’m not ready yet.”