Sunia is even more beautiful and diverse than I had at first imagined. Ohna spends hour after hour showing me the village, highlighting scenes both bustling and intimate, and I am equally thrilled by either. The people here tread barefoot, the soil like cushions underfoot. Their diet consists exclusively of what can be grown in a community-tended garden. It seems there are no limits to what a nutrient-filled earth and tropical clime can accomplish. Even the air is thick with moisture, and, soaked through with sweat, Ohna encourages me to exchange my heavy travelling cloak for the lighter linens of the locals.

The threads feel light and brilliant against my skin. I slip into them and out into the open, much to the amusement of the locals. It is as easy as that. They seem ready to embrace me as one of them, even as I embrace the minutiae of their customs. The clothes are just the start.

We sample fruits and vegetables and beans fresh from the stalk. Families grill in collective areas, sharing what they have for their midday meal. Each person eats their fill without squabbling over portions. And what reason is there to bicker? The idea of scarcity or deprivation has never seemed further from reality. 

I eat until I am more full than I can ever remember being. The day stretches, walking and eating and talking until my stomach cramps and my feet ache and my voice is hoarse. Still, I want to venture further.

This place is a whirlwind of exotic smells and color. It is beautiful in a way that I had never fantasized that a plot of land could be. After I can take no more, we rest under a canopy of trees. Hammocks dot the park, but, in my opinion, the ground is just as comfortable. I sigh my pleasure. What a day.

With the sun blazing overhead, I slip into a light doze beneath the shadow of the trees limbs. Thick grass tickles my bare skin in the breeze. My muscles stretch gratefully, my skin warmed by the incandescent rays as Wart suns on a nearby boulder. I could spend the rest of my life here. We rest in companionable silence, comfortable in this as we were in discourse, before she speaks. I blink. Her eyes are filled with intrigue. 

"These animals you keep with you..." she begins, extending a finger to Wart's snout. I reach to stop her, afraid that he might snap, but the lizard lowers his head and allows her to stroke the scaley bridge of his nose. "Why do they follow you?" After the miracles she has shown me, it's hard to believe that she could marvel over the scaley creature.

"They are our Incarnates," I explain, realizing for the first time that ours are the only animals I have seen since leaving the forest.

"In-car-nates," she repeats haltingly. "What does that mean?"

"They are our-" I gaze at Wart, unsure how to explain. To her, an animal kindred must be as magical and unrealistic as a place like this is to me. "They are... part of us."

"Your spirit animal?"

"Well... no. They're real, first of all."

"Spirit animals are real, Kalyn." The sound of her laughter is like music. "I have heard of this. People who worship animals in other villages."

"We don't worship them. They just help us with things. We can use them for hunting or working." She seems to consider this.

"Well, maybe you should worship them, then... If they are so important to your way of life." Ohna gives me a sidelong smile, and I cannot tell if she is serious. Either way, I don't have an argument for that. Where would Balai be without its Incarnates? I fear they are learning now. 

It seems that she can sense she has won, for she continues. 

"I have never seen a lizard like this."

"Neither had I," I admit. For the first time, Wart seems a being worth admiring. His sleek, shiny scales. His wide, powerful jaws. Teeth and claws I have too often felt. His eyes swivel, watching me sagely from his perch.

"It must be nice having a friend," she muses. "I talk to the plants sometimes, but they rarely talk back." Another grin.

Wart flicks his tongue, and Ohna laughs again. Already, I feel that they share an understanding I don't. So much for loyalty, Wart.

"So what brings you to Sunia?"

"We are on our way to Inte."

"Ah, Inte? A prosperous place, I hear. Prosperous and dangerous..."

"You've never been?"

"No. Most people here never leave, but we hear plenty."

"I can imagine why they wouldn't want to go," I admit, my eyes on her as much as her surroundings.

"It is  rather wonderful here," she admits, toying, tossing her hair. "A lot of the travelers don't ever leave either."

It is no wonder. I don't look forward to abandoning my current spot on the ground, much less this city of plenty, and I tell her as much.

"You don't have to leave," she enlightens me, as if pointing out the obvious. And maybe she is.

"I do, actually." Even as I say it, though, the arguments die on my tongue. I don't have to leave. I belong here as much as anywhere I've ever been. Just as I open my mouth to continue, she kisses me. The sensation is so unexpected, I don't have time to relish it.

"You don't have to go," she says again. And for the life of me, I can't remember why I would.