Already at home, Kisha, cursing, forcibly pulled off his shirt and began to change the bandages. The thin scar had parted slightly around the edges, blood slowly oozing from it. As if that wasn't enough, they counted half a dozen new cuts and bruises he'd received in the past 24 hours. And the pain slowly but stubbornly returned to the threshold, stretching, as if waking up after a long sleep.

Long time no see, dear.

Wrapped in new bandages, Kres climbed out into the air and watched the surviving male rok'hi flock to their huts. He also saw Musa. Psoglavets literally ran up the tree and easily climbed onto the platform.

“Your father is wounded,” Cres told him.

“I heard,” Musa muttered and disappeared into the house. Voices were heard from there, then everything was silent.

Musa appeared again and silently disappeared into the night. Keisha followed, but immediately froze in the doorway, not daring to take a step further. Clutching the joint, biting her lips, her eyes followed the invi