"That's a kind way to put it."
"It's not kindness. It's just true. The Wildgrove has had a long time to develop the language for this. We don't have many people. We notice each one carefully."
The Wildgrove. I'd known the word from a distance — Ren's notes had it as Elara's home region, a forest community on the northern edge of the Empire, isolated by a mountain range and connected to the larger world through exactly two trade routes. Population estimate: twelve thousand spread across forty villages. Their nature affinity was the strongest in any contiguous population, and the Empire largely left them alone in exchange for a steady trickle of medicinal herbs and skilled healers. Elara had been the first Wildgrove candidate accepted to Astral Zenith Academy in sixty years.
"Will you tell me about it?" I asked. "The Wildgrove. Your village."
"You want to know?"
"Yes."
She looked surprised. Then — softer. The expression of someone who hadn't expected to be asked.
