My eyes opened to a still dawn. I stared out at the blades of grass in front of me, heavy with dew from the cool night. Beyond them the trees at the edge of the clearing stood tall, birds and insects just beginning to stir in their nests and hives. The world was quiet, frozen but without the harsh touch of ice or snow, the gleam of the sun just beginning to rise over the treetops. I slowly uncurled myself from beside the burnt-out remains of the fire from the night before and sat there, hugging a knee against my chest, watching out over the waking world.

  One day, I’ll really get to enjoy a morning like this. I sighed, watching as my breath condensed to steam in the cool air, curling up towards the sky. For now, I’ll use what time I have as best I can. I let my leg drop down, crossing it with the other as my hands came to rest in my lap. It’s time to cultivate.

  Breathe in.

  I inhaled the brisk morning air, the smell of wet grass and sodden ashes filling my nose. As my lungs expanded, I loosened the hold on my qi, letting those sparks of life flow along the same arteries and veins as that life-giving air. My body responded in turn, nerves lighting up in sensation as hairs stood on end, muscles trembling with the need to move, to act. The Seven Falls Stance demanded action, and like a tossed stone, my body could only be carried along by the roaring current.

  Breathe out.

  Air flowed out, and my inner power was restrained once more. I sat there with empty lungs and a still soul, and contemplated my being. I felt steady, even as the world retracted entirely within the bounds of my own skin. I could feel my inner poet begin to wax lyrical at the feeling. What was the difference between feeling like the world’s smallest mountain, or its mightiest pebble? That part of me stroked its beard and felt smug for a moment, before it was swept away once more by the cycle of qi beginning again.

  Breathe in.

  The second breath went the same as the first. I brought air in, ignited it with qi, and rode the wave as long as I could. Then, just when my control threatened to snap I exhaled and slowed my qi, the energy circling within me with just a bit more power and certainty than I had a moment before.

  Breathe out.

  It was the natural process of cultivation, the cycling of qi through body and spirit, bringing them closer to one harmonious whole. How many millions of cultivators had sat as I did, contemplating the mysteries of their soul, and the world, and where those two things intersected?

  For the briefest moment, I could almost feel like I was a real cultivator.

  Breathe in-

  I coughed as I felt my spirit shudder to a halt, qi drained utterly dry. But where once upon a time that would be a precursor to the rest of my body seizing in pain, as the sympathetic connection to my own soul prompted me to curl up into a ball and wish for death, I felt perfectly fine. Physically, at least; internally, I could sense my soul twist further upon itself into a tangled mess that cried out in silent agony, lacking the connection back to my own mortal form. It was a strange dichotomy to feel two halves of my being split between content existence and existential pain.

  In this moment of post-cultivation contemplation, my mind turned to one thought:

  Oh, get over it.

  I’d done my share of looking after the village’s children back home, and feeling my soul writhe about put me in mind of toddlers fussing over a minor scrape. I watched as my soul slowly shifted around, reaching out for a moment like a child checking to see if anyone had bothered listening to its cries, before it simply unsnarled itself and began to pull at the world around it to refill its reserves of qi, small motes of energy slowly drifting inwards towards it.

  The sheer ease with which it did so left me feeling slightly annoyed. Half a year of crippling pain every time I wanted to cultivate, and it could have just walked it off. Was there a good reason for my soul to make me feel pain? Probably. Was it unhealthy to refer to my soul in the third person? Definitely. But for the life and death of me, I mostly just felt frustration.

  As it was, with my qi exhausted and my soul recuperating in a blissfully pain-free manner, I was done cultivating. I opened my eyes to the world around me. I looked over my shoulder towards Isabella, sitting on the other side of the firepit, alongside one of those blasted creatures. “How long this time?”

  Isabella glared at me. “Oh, good morning to you too, so happy to see you this morning. Why yes, I did notice the pristine beauty of the world at the break of dawn, isn’t it so beautiful? I’m so glad you chose to share those thoughts with me, I feel so much closer to you. Prick.” She tossed a piece of lamb in the air, watching as one of our pincher followers hopped up to dexterously grab it out of the air. “Be thankful no one else with slightly less investment in your continued well-being can hear your train of thought.”

  “Is it so wrong to want to just get the cultivation over with so we can move on to more important things?” I deftly argued.

  Isabella stared at me. “I think just for the implication that cultivation is something you can ‘get over with’, your Sect would kill you all over again.” She sighed, watching as the pinchers slowly pulled the shank of meat apart into its constituent muscle fibres. “Three seconds. And a bit. That’s how long it takes you.”

  I grinned, leaping to my feet. “I’ll take a bit. It’s one bit more than I was one week ago.”

  “Your Sect would definitely rip you to shreds for that level of progress.” Isabella loosely gestured at the example before her. The pincher, finished with its breakfast, turned to stare at me, a tongue running along its finger-like beak to clean up the mess.

  Hideous creature. I ignored it as best as I could, instead offering a hand out to Isabella. “Now that’s hardly fair, anyone can do what I’ve done. They just need to suffer for three years and then get their chest caved in. Easy, right?”

  “Easy.” Isabella scoffed, but accepted my hand anyway, allowing me to pull her up. “Whatever. Onwards?”

  My grin faded to a smile that felt surprisingly easy to wear. “Onwards.”

  We left the campsite soon after, and the sun rose to greet us properly, banishing away the cool of the early morning under its warm grace. The First Son cheerfully rumbled to our side, just barely hidden by old trees whose branches hung low over the water. At some point a skip found its way into my step, and I began to pull Isabella along, faster and faster.

  At some point I finally gave into the urge to drag Isabella to one of the trees, quickly climbing up the trunk and watching the river pass by. I regaled Isabella with stories of how I’d challenged the other kids my age in leaping from branches like these into the deep waters, hurtling along for miles on planks of wood to be caught by our fathers at the piers downstream. I pointed to the trees I recognised, where rough bark had been scratched by rocks with simple heiroglyphs, commemorating particularly long jumps or deep dives.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “I was the second best diver of the village,” I gravely informed the personification of Death. “Just so you know.”

  As was appropriate, Death bowed before my supreme might. However, her wisdom was soon found lacking. “Who was first?”

  I turned my nose up, facing away. “No one particularly impressive. They were cheating, anyway.”

  Our journey continued. Once more, old forests transitioned into paddies and pastures. I quickly introduced Isabella to Mr. Watch, who stood the same steady guard he had for the past twenty years.

  “You should pay your respects,” I told Isabella. “He looked after us when we were kids, and it’s only fair to repay the favour. Honestly, he was my hero growing up.”

  Isabella glanced between me and Mr. Watch, searching for the right words. “He’s a donkey.”

  I shook my head and exchanged a glance with Mr. Watch. “Sorry, Watch, she’s new. Forgive her.”

  Mr. Watch’s ears flicked, and he nibbled at my hand for a bit before I revealed I wasn’t holding anything. He looked at me with slight disappointment, and then he trotted off to bray at the pincher, which had settled on a nearby fence post. The blasted bird squawked and flew off, circling in the air above. Mr. Watch wasn’t deterred, continuing to shout its displeasure at the creature flying above.

  I aimed a smug smile in Isabella’s direction. “He taught me everything I know.”

  Isabella returned my look with a middle finger. “Whatever, you ass.”

  I laughed, and each step came easier than last. I named each plot we passed, linking it to each and every family I knew. The Williams’ pasture. The Jones’ farmland. I pointed out the gargantuan paddy that the village held in common. I sneakily indicated Grandpa Gavin’s currant bushes, and how you could ‘steal’ a few berries if you crawled beneath the hedge. I looked over familiar fields with older eyes, and found that both myself and the land had changed much less than I would have thought.

  And then came a call that I hadn’t heard in some three years. “Uncle Ryan?”

  I immediately turned to the voice; a young girl, dressed in mud-soiled trousers and shirt, though certainly not by the choice of her parents I knew. It was clear she’d just returned from an excursion to ‘steal’ a few berries for herself, judging by some of the leaves and twigs caught in her dirty blonde hair. The girl stared up at me with wide eyes, the bunch of berries in one hand beginning to drop towards the ground. “Uncle Ryan, you’re back?”

  “Lil’ Jane!” I dashed towards the girl, immediately grabbing her and throwing her in the air. She shrieked for a moment as she floated above the ground for a few seconds, only to giggle as I caught her on the way down, swinging her around in a circle. “Oh, Jane my girl, it’s been ages! Actually, hang on, let’s get a good look at you.” I set her back on the ground and carefully inspected her. “Hmm. Have you shrunk? I swear you were a bit taller. And had a cane. And grey hair.”

  “Uncle Ryan!” The young girl cried, rushing forward to hit me on the leg. I allowed myself to cower in the face of the overwhelming violence. “That’s Aunty Jane! You know we’re different people!”

  “Oh, Gods, you’re totally right!” I slapped my forehead. “I always forget there’s two of you. But I swear, and tell me if this isn’t true, didn’t you say you were going to be taller than Aunty Jane when I got back? Because, to my discerning eye, it looks like you aren’t just yet.”

  “Nuh uh!” Lil’ Jane puffed herself up. “I got a bit bigger, and Aunty Jane got even smaller! I’m the bigger Jane now!”

  “So you’re the bigger Jane now.” I scratched my chin. “And you’re only going to get bigger. Not just Lil’ Jane. Massive Jane. Gigantic Jane. How does Gigantic Jane sound?”

  “Uncle Ryan!” The ultra-violence continued for a few moments more, until it came to a slow stop, small fists finally uncurling and wrapping around my leg. “Missed you,” Gargantuan Jane muttered. Then, as if the two seconds of seriousness were too much to bear, she leapt back and began to jump around. “Oh! We’re gonna go diving later! Arthur has gotten really good at diving, and he’s been saying he can beat you! And Griff is so boring, saying he needs to do adult things rather than play games, but everyone knows it’s because he’s scared that we’re gonna beat his record! And the village has a new little brother! He can’t talk yet but he’s really funny and loves to make people laugh! Mommy said I can look after him once he can walk but can you tell Mommy I can take him with us to watch us dive-”

  I cut off the onslaught as I leaned in to bring Unfathomably Large Jane for a hug. Over her shoulder, I smiled at Isabella, who was trying her best to restrain herself. I’ll have you know she’s a goddamn treasure.

  “She is,” Isabella laughed. “So, this Griff?”

  I switched focus back to the small child who wouldn’t belittle my hard-won records. “Big Jane, listen, I only just got back. Have you seen my mother and father today? I…I want to see them.”

  Big Jane nodded seriously. “Of course. I think your Daddy wasn’t fishing in the morning, so he’s probably still at yours.” She brightened. “Do you think I can pet some of the sheep? I asked Mommy if I could ask your Mommy if I could, but she said I shouldn’t bother them, but if you’re here I can bother you right?”

  “Of course.” I hugged Big Jane, then set her back down. “Why don’t you come with me? I can make sure you get to pet the fluffiest sheep we have.”

  Suitably encouraged by the thought of fluffy sheep, Big Jane led the way as I followed closely behind, Isabella keeping pace at my side. I glanced towards her, smile still on my face. She’s lovely, isn’t she? She must be nine now. More energy than the Seven Falls. Hasn’t changed a bit.

  “Yeah.” Isabella returned the smile, watching the young girl trot ahead. For a moment, we both just watched the little human make her way forward, chattering away excitedly.

  Soon enough we left the farms behind us, and entered the village proper. Big Jane would occasionally stop to say hello to a few other villagers as we passed. Most returned the greeting with good humour, only to stop in their tracks as they recognised me too.

  “Ryan, my boy, that you?”

  “Oh, Gods above, are my eyes decieving me? Ryan?”

  “Ryan? No no, don’t you smile and wave at me, come over here and give your Aunty a hug!”

  Soon enough, it felt like I couldn’t take a step forward without someone pulling me into their arms. The wives and aunties of the town turned out from inside the homes to fuss over me, just as a cry went out from the pier and dozens of burly men left work, nets still in hand, to clap me on the back and welcome me home. Throughout it all, I smiled, and laughed, and returned the gregarious welcome with hugs and handshakes.

  “Go on then, don’t let yer’ ma accuse us of keepin’ ya!” And with the promise of a story extracted, they sent me on my way. With a knowing glance, one of the mothers held Big Jane back, explaining to the young girl that I should get a chance to see my parents first before I took her to play with the sheep. The girl accepted this reasoning with grace, but couldn’t restrain herself from waving excitedly as I began moving to the pastures on the far end of the village.

  My hand fiddled at my necklace the entire time.

  Ten minutes later, I finally arrived. The one room house was exactly as I remembered it, the pasture beyond filled with the soft forms of sheep slowly grazing under the clear blue sky. I spotted a singular lamb, tottering about on unfamiliar legs.

  A woman sat outside, humming to herself as she spun wool. Faint grey flecked her hair, and wrinkles rested easily upon a face well-used to laughter. At the sound of my footsteps, she looked up, eyes widening as she leapt to her feet, the spinning wheel toppling over before her. “Billy. Billy!”

  “Doreen?” From within the house, a man emerged. He stood tall, dressed in simple clothes that did little to hide years of hard work, wiry muscles clear beneath deeply tanned skin. Sharp eyes over a nose with an unfortunate bump in the middle looked towards the woman, before settling on me. His eyebrows rose at the sight.

  “Hi.” I said, hand tightening on the coins around my neck. I tried for a few more words, but my throat refused to let them out. What do I even say? I’m no longer a cultivator. I’m on the run. You’re not safe. I couldn’t bring myself to waste this money on a fucking bowl of rice. I met a girl. I’ve missed you so, so, so much.

  My father blinked, then sighed, wrapping one arm around my mother as the other reached out towards me, a small smile crossing his face. “Come here, Ryan.”

  I crossed the distance in a blink, and hugged my mom and dad.