The small hall was warm and mildly humid. The eight figures sitting in an arc at one end of it seemed perfectly comfortable in the pleasant weather. Gyamma, however, felt cold, despite the bright sunlight, as she stood stunned in front of them. She flexed her fingers and toes, trying to work some feeling back into them.

The mini Touch-grove she had brought with her to demonstrate her work sat beside her, its purpose forgotten.

The middle of the eight figures was speaking, an imperious old woman who looked like a storm taken human form. Even her voice was lightning, sharp and clear; quiet in its confidence of the thunder it would leave in its wake.

"You will understand then madam, that we do not find a compelling reason to accept your apprenticeship."

To the left and right of this lady sat two familiar faces: Guru Para and Sadguru Venna. Venna’s eyes were cast downwards, as though he couldn’t face Gyamma. But Para’s normally inscrutable face was hard.

She whipped her head around to look at the speaker.

“Greenstouch Thenma,” she said darkly, “This young scholar has more than proven her worth. You have seen her work with your own eyes! What she has achieved-”

“- Is a toy,” cut in Thenma. She addressed Gyamma directly.

“I will admit your miniature Grove is an interesting curiosity, but that is all it is. For all its novelty, its capabilities can be imitated by even the dullest of your university’s initiates.”

Guru Para looked incredulous. “But surely, you see the value in its portability? A Touch-grove that can move with you?” she said.

Thenma sneered. “No Para, I honestly don’t. A full Healer’s Grove provides capabilities comparable to intricate Healing Touches: diagnosis, predictions of future illnesses, prescriptions of treatment. Complete Weather Groves provide abilities no Touches can.

“What can this bauble do, Numb a mild pain, and then go into dormancy for days? Where is the value in that, when all you have to do is use a basic Touch of Numbing, something every child learns in school?”

Para was left speechless, staring at Thenma with puzzled anger. Gyamma felt too stunned to feel anything. She knew all of these arguments already: she had anticipated all of them and addressed them in her written thesis. The long evidence of history showed that any new technology in its infancy would obviously be limited, and not as capable as existing ones that had gotten mature over years. That was not the point.

The fact that this opened up an entirely new way of thinking about Soul-trees and Touch-groves, the very idea that Touch-groves could be portable, and the living proof that they worked was an advancement anyone with even a basic understanding of science should have been able to appreciate. These groves would only grow more powerful with time, as their possibilities were investigated.

And an accomplished researcher like Greenstouch Thenma, the presiding lead of the Congress of Green, would know this. No, thought Gyamma, There’s something else at play here.

Gyamma looked at the faces of the other five members of the High-council of the Congress. One middle-aged, pot-bellied man sitting at one end glared at Gyamma in distaste. Another white-haired man slouched in his chair, looking up at the ceiling as though bored. The brown-haired, wispy woman to his left was busy looking at her thumbs, with a sheepish expression on her face. These were all esteemed members of their order, the most knowledgeable Greenstouches in the city. They would not dismiss obviously useful research this quickly.

Sadguru Venna spoke up in a pleading tone. “Thenma, surely you cannot judge a fresh graduate’s work with the same metric as an experienced scientist! You have to admit, this work is most impressive for a scholar with just three years of study!”

The pot-bellied man answered in a deep drawl.

“Venna, I’m sure we all admire your little… experiment in education. No one here is saying your special student hasn’t done well. Indeed she has lasted all three years, something no one expected. Why not call it a success, and celebrate a little? Why rouse things up?”

Greenstouch Thenma looked disapproving at the man’s bluntness, but she didn’t seem to disagree. Guru Para shot him a glare.

“My esteemed colleague certainly doesn’t imply that one’s upbringing has any bearing on their ability to master the sciences.” she said, threateningly.

“Upbringing? No, but ability, certainly,” the man continued, “you know well the lack of attunement to Touch among highlanders. Who is to say what the limit of her abilities is? What if tomorrow she loses her skill? Would you really want an Untouched in a guild for advancing Touch-sciences? Don’t you see the irony?”

Before Para could retort, Thenma cut in once again.

“I believe the process is clear. Since this is an application you and Venna both recommended, we had to convene in person for a decision,” she said, unhappily.

“However, the same process is also unequivocal that at least six of the council must vouch for an application, and we have only two so far. Miss Gyamma, your application is hence denied. We wish you well.”

She stood up haughtily and exited the room. The five others followed her, leaving Para and Venna still sitting in their seats.

Gyamma felt like she was melting. It occurred to her that after her initial appeal, she had been frozen, tongue-tied throughout the exchange as the farce played out. She hadn’t even shown the courage to defend herself, letting Guru Para and Sadguru Venna speak for her, humiliating themselves for her.

Gyamma didn’t wait to hear their thoughts. She turned and ran out of the hall, and didn’t stop until she reached her small student’s quarters. Once there, without pausing to catch her breath, she picked up the closest sack and frantically, threw all of her minimal belongings into it.

She picked up the sack and strode towards the door, pausing for a moment. Something suggested she take one last look back at her room, the piles of books and scrolls in it, the little pots and planters of trees she had lovingly nurtured. Her eyes blurred and she didn’t heed the thought, breaking into a sprint instead. When she reached the balcony, she didn’t bother taking the stairs down to the street. Tying the sack to her back, she jumped up, Pinned her palms to the eaves, and swung herself up, clambering onto the wooden roof.

The Atharottae ranges to the east invited her gaze, and somewhere within their shadows, lay her home. From the height of the rooftops, there was nothing in between her and the mountains: not the city, not its streets, and not the swarms of people below with their unwelcoming, unfriendly faces. There was nothing to prevent her going far away from here, back to those snow spires, where she could forget everything in their cold embrace.

Narme’s progress through the snow was slow, with the heavy fur coat and boots weighing him down. The wind picked up, sending a flurry of flakes into his face. A snowstorm, he thought, just great.

There had been no sign of one when he’d set out. He looked upwards to the dark outline of the mountain, now wearing a cloak of swirling cloud.

Changed your mind, have you? He thought at the peak. Even in the gloomy weather, the austere beauty of this place wasn’t lost on him. He hated the cold up here, but he could never think harshly of the mountain itself. It reminded him of her, the way she would talk about the ice, the glaciers, climbing the cliffs… he sighed. How long had it been? It seemed like a lifetime ago that she’d left.

“Master Healer!” The worried call broke his contemplation, bringing him back to the present. He had a job to do. Through the mild flurry, he saw the worried highlander woman anxiously waving to him outside her snow covered ice-hut, and raised his hand in acknowledgement.

He waddled his way through the snow, and she greeted him with obvious relief.

“Master Healer, thank you so much for coming, I’ve been sick with worry!” she said leading him inside.

“Don’t worry Madam, it’s my duty to help, it’s why I’m here,” Narme said with a soothing smile. He puffed in relief at the warmth within the ice-hut, gladly taking off his fur-coat and dropping in on the pile near the door. He had to stoop a little, the low ceiling of highlander ice-huts always brushed the top of his head.

“Now, why don’t you tell me what’s going on?” he suggested.

The woman pointed to the little highlander boy tucked into a furry bed against the wall. His pale face peered out through a tiny gap in the blankets, his dark eyes shining curiously at him.

“It’s been four days, and it’s only gotten worse,” the mother said, wringing her hands. “We’ve already tried all the usual herbs and even the medicine you left with us last time, it hasn’t helped in the least.”

Narme walked over the little boy and sat down beside the bed. He appeared to be about six or seven years old. Even at a glance, his ailment was obvious. The child’s skin was a clammy, pale yellow, drained of all vitality, and the lips were a deep blue. The child moaned and shivered in his bed, his eyes wide and fearful.

“Hello there,” he said, “what’s your name?”

“Jammonye,” the boy squeaked through chattering teeth.

“Well Jammonye, is it okay if I take a quick look to see what’s bothering you?”

The boy huddled deeper into the blanket.

“Don’t worry, it won’t hurt,” Narme laughed. “Look,” he said, fishing out a little paper-wrapped ball from his satchel, “I’ve got Rumon sweets from the foothill village. How about a deal: You let me feel your head, and you get this!”

The boy warily, eyed the packet, and relented. Narme placed a hand on his forehead. It felt as cold as the snow that whirled outside. Narme drew a diagnosis sign for temperature, and felt again. His hand didn’t react. Narme frowned, moving the hand and repeating the procedure at various points on the boys body. Each time, the sign told him everything was normal.

Slowly, something dawned on him, and his lips curled in a cunning smile.

Narme knelt lower to the boy, and whispered to him. “Hey Jammo, I have a lot more of those sweets. If you tell me the truth, I’ll tell you where I’ve hidden them. Your mother won’t know a thing, I swear!”

He winked conspiratorially. The little face studied him suspiciously for a moment, lips pouted.

“How do I know you’re not lying?” the boy demanded.

Narme fished out two more sweets from his pocket. “How about these, eh? Two now, three more once you tell me the truth,” he bargained, “Where did you learn to use the Touch of Light like that?”

The boy considered this new deal a moment, and then beckoned him close. “I thought of it all by myself!” he confessed in a whisper, “I practiced for months! At first it was hard to cover myself in just the right colours, but I think I finally got it right.”

Narme raised impressed brows.

“And the Touch of Cold? Who taught you that?”

The little figure shrugged nonchalantly. “No one. Once I learnt Heat in the down-village, it seemed really obvious to me how to reverse it and just cool things instead. I’m surprised no one else has figured it out!”

Narme breathed out slowly. The Touch of Cold was actually fairly common in many parts of the world. But for a six-year old to figure it out all by himself, turn it into a novel prank in conjunction with Light was of uncommon calibre, to put it mildly. He hadn’t seen a child with this potential in a long time. It reminded him of an old friend.

Narme recovered himself quickly, and smiled back. “Alright then, I’ll keep my promise too. The next time you’re in the lower village, go to the well near the temple. It has a loose rock on its wall, in the second row. I’ll hide the sweets behind that.”

The boy grinned. “I suppose I’ve had a long enough break too,” he said and sat up, pushing the blankets away. His mother exclaimed in surprise.

“Oh mountains, he’s up! Master Narme, you’re truly wonderful, I’ve never seen anything like it!”

“The boy is fine madam, nothing wrong with him. But...” he glanced at the little highlander child. “There’s something you should know,” he took the mother aside to break the news.

When he left, she was still yelling at the boy, half in anger and half in pride. Narme smiled to himself, and headed back through the snow, to the wider mountain road. His highlander guide was waiting next to the sled, eager to head off before the snowstorm got worse.

By the time they reached the foothill, it was late in the evening. Narme thanked the guide, and walked to his hut. With an afterthought, he made a quick diversion to the Touch-farms, to see if everything was going well.

He entered the wooden fence through a creaky gate and was immediately greeted by cheery calls from the workers. The farmhands were busy at work on the several patches of Touch-groves. Highlanders and Plainsfolk worked together to carry crates of little mini-groves, covering them up for the night and sheltering them in the various greenhouses. Nearby, a bearded highlander man knelt alongside a plainsfolk youth.

“... and Touch that one with Heat next”, the highlander was saying. “There you go, that’s right. Now, you see how the White Norcum has bloomed? That means it’s very likely to snow tonight, which is why we’re moving everything inside. Ah, Master Narme!” he said, noticing him, “How is everything up there? Jyorma’s boy doing okay?”

“Better than I ever expected,” said Narme, completely understating facts.

Toyrra, the current overseer for the farm, chatted with him for a while about some minutiae of the form - lists of fertiliser needing restocking, transport for new orders from the city, until Narme’s tiredness caught up with him.

“I should get some rest Master Toyrra,” he said stifling back a yawn, “Those trips up the mountain are always exhausting.”

Toyrra wished him goodnight, pausing before he added, “Say hello to your visitor. I’ve been so busy I haven’t got a chance myself yet.”

Narme frowned. Visitor?

Indeed, as he went towards his hut, he noticed that the door was ajar, and the lamps within were already aglow.

“Hello?” he said as he entered. He saw the occupant’s face, and broke into a surprised laugh.

“Gyamma! When did you return?! I wasn’t expecting you for another couple of weeks at least!”

Gyamma grinned and hugged him.

“Things went much smoother than we expected, and I started back much sooner. I didn’t have time to send a missive, so I thought I’d surprise you instead,” she said happily.

“Sounds like you have great news then? Well, what are you waiting for, tell me more! Did they agree?”

Gyamma nodded excitedly.

“I honestly thought it would take months to convince the other villages in Raganotta, but taking Myaddan along was a lifesaver. He’s already well liked there, and you should have heard the way he spoke about the Groves in the city, and how brilliant our venture was.”

“And what did they say?”

“They have two in their villages with the Touch, a teenage boy and an older girl. The boy’s parents were easier to talk to, and they said they would send him to us, but the girl’s family took a little more effort. They said they would at least think about it.

“But the trip wasn’t all a success: the other highlander villages didn’t know about anything either. Many of them grow miniatures for tradition, but there are no varieties on their mountains that look or behave differently - at least to their knowledge.”

Narme looked at her questioningly. “So you still haven’t given up hope of finding Soul-tree species that can survive in the mountains?”

Gyamma shook her head determinedly. “There’s something universal about Soul-trees, they seem to grow in virtually every other environment we can imagine. The only reason we haven’t found types adapted to the mountains is because no one had been looking, I’m sure of it. I think we’ll need to start preparing those special highlander teams after all, for more climbing research expeditions. And you won’t believe what else,”

Her eyes shone as she continued conspiratorially.

“There are hints of mountain Touch-plants that respond only to Breath and Pinning! Can you imagine what that means?”

Narme laughed waving his hands placatorily. “Gyamma, you just got back,” he said, “Wait at least a few days before you go climbing up the mountains again!”

They continued chatting as Gyamma heated up a pot of tea, and Narme filled her in on what she’d missed.

“News from the city - demand seems to be picking up among the smaller hospitals. You’ll need to find a way to step up production soon!”

“I heard,” said Gyamma, “Highlander’s Green is expanding faster than I’d ever imagined. Our vision is growing up.”

Narme laughed. “Our vision! You always say that - all of this is your doing Gyamma, all I’ve done is be alongside you for the journey!”

Gyamma set her tea down and gave him a long look.

“And as I’ve told you before,” she said slowly, “The journey wouldn’t have happened at all if you weren’t by my side.

She shook her head with a smile.

“It still feels like a dream sometimes… do you realise it’s been three years already, since you came chasing after me?”

Narme nodded. “Back then - when you left so suddenly - I’d really thought I’d lost you, that you’d… given up and abandoned everything you had worked for. I didn’t realise you had all of this planned - convincing the Sadguru to start a branch of the University Greens here, talking the University council into funding this research...” he trailed off, shaking his head in wonder.

It was a moment before Gyamma answered.

“I almost had given up,” she said quietly, “I had promised myself I would never return. But when you turned up a week later, all ruffled and bedraggled, frantic for me to return…”

She looked up at him.

“I realised - no, I remembered - that there had always been people I could rely on. Para. The Sadguru. Myaddan - and you. When I saw you at my doorstep that day, I knew I didn’t have to do this all alone. You have been that reminder for me all along, even in my deepest moments of doubt, that we could pull this off.”

Narme opened and closed his mouth, and then simply took her hand and pressed it warmly.

Something unspoken passed between them, and they stood together at the window sipping their tea as they once used to, on a long wooden balcony on cold, silent mornings.

The field of little Touch-groves before their eyes danced in the breeze, its bright colours contrasted by the stark white of the mountain behind. The dusk bathed the farm in its deep light, and the leaves of the plants shone as workers checked on them and tucked them in for the night. Highlander’s Green, an official department of Atharen university, glowed golden in the sunset.