The Plover squats, boxy and solid, far below. Its sword is driven deep into the roots, and it kneels there like a hoplite deep in prayer before battle. It’s not just possible but probable that when her pursuers enter in after her, they will prepare an ambush[1].

Good.

If they stop to prepare an ambush, it means they won’t try to have a Plover battle. If they fought here, Plover to Plover, they would level trees and score them with fire; they would burn clearings with explosives and tear apart the sounds of the jungle: the strange chittering calls of things more bat and wasp than bird, the creaking of the mangroves in the wind, the sound of rain striking the boughs forever, a ceaseless drumming that shines in all the colors of Hades’ vaults.

No. Leave the Plover behind. Don’t let them draw her in to a fight. Preserve the jungle, as much as she can.

Sweat and rain drip down her skin; her clothes thin, reacting to the high temperatures, becoming light and billowing-cool. She twists a button on her wrist three times and instead of black and gold, she is wearing dappled, pale green and brown, blending in among the mangroves. A biting insect alights on the back of her neck, thrusts its proboscis underneath her skin, and promptly combusts from the inside out; Redana fails to notice, and the itching welt never forms. She sees a raptor lurking underneath a particularly thick knot of leaves, and coos over its sleekness, the way it cleans its webbed wings, the lashing of its tail.

It takes her some time to ascend, but perhaps less time than one might think: she is, after all, an Olympian athlete, very capable of lifting her whole body by her fingertips and of making daring leaps over gaps, and laughing merrily while she does it. Her heart is a bird, soaring and free, as she approaches the settlement, bedraggled and delighted in equal measure, her golden curls gleaming in the sunlight.

This! This is what she was dreaming of back home, though she never knew. How could Mother close off a universe that had sights like these? How could she tell her daughter to be ambitious, then refuse to let her explore the vast universe worthy of that ambition? How could she shut humanity in a box and refuse to let them see [i]this?[/i] How could she let everyone on Tellus think food depots and televised entertainment and insular, bellicose fashion subcultures were the peak of human experience?

“I won’t stop until the skies are open again,” she says to herself. “You can’t stop me, Mother.”

***

[1]: it is possible they might try to crack it open, but Redana has the key, and she is at her most vulnerable approaching it again. It is very unlikely that they destroy it, for not only would that remove the one place they know the princess will return to, it would be a waste of ammunition. It is, however, likely that they will burn out the batteries again. No sense in letting their bait actually remain useful to their quarry[2].

[2]: Redana has not yet realized that her pursuers might just ride their Plovers up to the settlement and demand cooperation from the locals.