The book rested heavily on her lap while she flipped the pages revealing the pictures drawn by the talented hands of her people. Caldor had come by her room in the morning with a trolley full of books. The old sage had heard about the strongly worded discussion she had had with the Steward the day prior. Caldor hadn’t asked her about it and she was happy he didn’t try to fix it with one of his antidotal sayings or matter-of-fact statements.

Caldor had done what Caldor usually did in situations that were beyond his emotional comprehension. He found books that related to the subject and gave them to her to study. He assumed with the comparisons she had made to her people that she was missing Morza, and as a result he had collected every Morzi text he could find.

His method of trying to mend her melancholy appeared to be working. Having the chance to read through the collection of Morzi texts, Liora couldn’t help but feel the connection she had been missing. These books helped her remember her time in the mountains. She missed the mountain city, and the people there. She missed their common language and traditions.

If Morza had survived the massacre they would have been preparing the gardens and shrine. The hunters would be setting their traps, Naygu would have made a list on the herbs she needed restocked, and Rebin – the Warden – would have been preparing for the assigning of the new dragons.

Liora missed those parts of her life, and the simplicity of her people’s lifestyle. She missed the music, the food, and closeness.

The Dermite were different. They were one people but lived separately. Families were small units like Foe, Marcia, and Druce. Family wasn’t the whole community. Everyone had separate jobs or roles here. In Morza everyone shared the tasks to make things run smoothly no matter who they were.