The second cultivator picked up a broken branch from the ground, rolling it between his fingers as he walked.
"This forest's going to remember what we did," he muttered.
"Forests don't remember," the first said calmly.
"Then I guess we'll have to be the ones who do."
"No. But people do."
The first didn't argue.
They kept walking.
Eventually, they reached a narrow ridge where the trees thinned and the wind came through clean and crisp. From there, they could see the roofs of a distant village tucked between the hills.
Home.
Or something like it.
The second cultivator exhaled slowly. "You think we should tell the others?"
The first thought about it.
"They'll figure it out soon. We'll either be asked to lead... or to leave."
The second gave a quiet laugh. "Let them try."
Out on the ocean, just like before, the giant turtle moved slowly through the waves. Its back was still covered in rough stone ridges, with glowing lines of algae running through the cracks.
