Hesperios looked around at the devastation that he’d arrived moments too late to prevent. He’d finally learned to hear what the grass and trees said and had arrived too late to do anything about it.

Sniffling, he slumped to the ground. His earlier joy was forgotten. He felt utterly alone. Then, beneath him, he heard the grass whisper. The ones who did this were not going to stop. They would find other herds.

Resolutely he pushed himself up and turned to go. His family would not die in vain, he swore. He would prevent the tragedy from repeating itself. If he could do that – even if he could only save one other – then the fact that he was spared would have meaning.

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