Nat had finished a power nap, then cleaned up and applied a fresh layer of burn cream; he should buy a tub of it the next time they got near a town. He wasn't sure how much the scrav had been worth, but he assumed he had money enough for that, some food, and some replacement clothes. Truth be told, Nat just didn't really think about money; he'd almost never had a use for it. Now that he didn't have the hospital paying for everything, he'd need to avoid getting taken advantage of by unscrupulous merchants. He made a mental note to learn about common prices for basic goods and services.

  He wasn't sure Lyn was the best person to ask about money, but burns were another story — they'd apparently had a lot of experience early in life. After repacking his bedroll, he approached Lyn in their apparently usual spot near the central campfire, where they were staring at some metal rods. Strange. He wanted to ask, but did not want to be side-tracked right now — his hands hurt.

  “Lyn, I've avoided the worst burns from the Talent backlash, and avoided most of whatever it is Hekkan did, but my hands are sore and sensitive from heat and pressure from within the active half of my Talent. Do you have any way to help with that, that isn't just applying extra burn cream and trying not to touch things for a few days?”

  “Hmm, possibly. Let me see your hands, first.”

  Walking the few steps over to where Lyn was sitting, Nat turned both hands palm up and held them out. Even through the white paste he'd applied, the skin was red and angry.

  Lyn took hold of his right wrist to avoid disturbing Moira's flame in his left, and then pressed a palm down on his. He felt a mild sensation he had learned to associate with aether activity over the last — he wanted to say two days, but it was more, wasn't it? Well, whatever Lyn was doing, it felt strangely cool and comfortable.

  They removed their palm after a moment and gave him a curious look. “Your acclimatization is… extremely mature, for a Human. Almost Ber-like, though not quite to Ber levels, so don't go thinking you're invulnerable to heat — or fire. But still, well above early life expected maturation.”

  “Is that why my skin has gotten more gray-tinged and less sensitive in general? Normally I barely feel anything — it's like I'm always wearing thin gloves, so it's been strange feeling the pain from the friction burns.”

  “It might be — I wouldn't want to assume. I'm not very experienced with Human physiology.”

  “So, does that mean you can teach me how to do some of your healing tricks, then?”

  Lyn gave him a slight frown at that, with a chiding gesture. “I'll show you what I can, on the condition you never call them tricks again. These are the results of hard work and years of study. Just to set expectation here — you're not going to pick them up in a day, or a week.”

  He nodded, “Understood, but it would be useful to understand how to mitigate what seems to be a common outcome of using my Talent.”

  “Alright. Let's see what I can show you while they're out fooling around. Take a seat.”

  He sat.

  “The first thing to understand is that Ber operate based on engineered signals. Humans, and Brin, do not. Ceress, and to a lesser degree, myself, have learned a variety of aether patterns which aren't normally part of our expected functions. Hers are instructive at a level accessible by cognitive structures, mine operate below that, at organ and cellular levels. Rather than try to learn hundreds of species specific patterns, I've opted to focus on a few generally usable ones that can be broadly applied. Mostly healing, but I've got a few others you might see at some point.”

  “Okay. Got it. So how does that help me?”

  “Well, first, your acclimatization is based on Ber engineering principles applied to human biology. So, in some cases, the signals may work, though almost always at reduced effectiveness.”

  “Can you give me an example?”

  “Better yet, I can show you. Watch.”

  Lyn propped their injured half-foot up on a log, pointed adjacent to Nat. They then pressed both palms down on either side of the foot, and a dim glow could be seen between where palm met foot.

  As Nat watched, he could see the tissue undulate close to where the foot was missing.

  Lyn grimaced slightly, and closed their eyes. “Now, pay close attention — not just with your eyes, but to the patterns in the aether. This will take a few minutes. Be silent, please.”

  The speed of the undulations increased, and Nat could see that each time the skin rippled outwards, it did not return as far in as it had started. Was the bone growing inside the skin? How did that work?

  Nat couldn't discern much in the aether, however. He could feel that there was a pattern, but it wasn't nearly as strong as Ceress's claws when lit.

  Perhaps five minutes later, Lyn exhaled and then panted for breath. “That… really takes it out of me.”

  The foot had lengthened — only by a few millimeters, but it was apparent. Where the skin had been undulating now looked stretched and thin, and an angry red.

  “Okay, I need to eat for a few minutes. Why don't you and Moira talk for a while?” Lyn already had food in hand; where did they even keep it all?

  “Sure, can do. That was absolutely incredible to watch.”

  What was so interesting about it, Nat?

  “Oh, sure — it's hard to explain, but you can basically watch the foot lengthen. It's not a baby foot getting larger, or even like a tail regrowing on a lizard, it's like the foot is being revealed, inside the skin.”

  Oh, so it's being deposited, rather than extruded?

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “Yes, exactly.”

  Fascinating. That's completely unlike any ‘Ankarran’ healing mechanism, then.

  “Why do you say it that way? I can hear the emphasis on the word.”

  I'll tell you some other time, okay?

  “Alright. Anyway, I couldn't feel much, however. It's not nearly as ‘loud’ as Ceress's skill — though that's more of a noisy itch, where this felt like a … song?”

  Now that's an intriguing turn of phrase. Here, tell me, can you ‘hear’ this?

  Nat immediately felt a noiseless tone take form in his mind. “Oh, yeah, loud and clear. Though, I couldn't sing it or anything — it sounds like a single, sustained note, but not one I'm hearing.”

  Lyn, could you take a moment and try your healing acceleration on Nat? The Human variant. I have no interest in experimenting with more Ber signalling after the dawn disaster.

  Lyn's mouth was full of food once again, but they nodded and indicated they'd need a minute.

  Lyn was feeling significantly better now that they'd eaten. It was obvious Moira had something in mind, but asking out loud was just asking for trouble. They played along, though.

  “Okay, give me your hand again.” Nat looked askance at them, after a quick glance at their hand, still covered in bits of Bri'gir'da. “Oh fine — here — I'll wipe it off on the sand. See? Clean. Okay, now give me your hand.”

  They continued, “I'm going to do this the visible way, so you can watch — and give it a bit more power than I otherwise would, so hopefully you can sense it, okay?”

  Nat nodded, “That'd be excellent. Thanks.”

  They gripped his hand, and began to create a stronger aether current than usual, with the basic pattern for ‘recovery’ that was compatible with Human biology. It wasn't a very effective pattern compared to Ber — perhaps doubling tissue and muscle nutrient uptake and healing at best — but it worked on any organism known to silverpaw science, which was considerable.

  Oh, this isn't like your Ber patterns at all, is it?

  Lyn startled briefly and the pattern was interrupted for a moment. How obvious was it that this was not a Ber pattern, but instead one that the silverpaw had created themselves? Was Lyn making a mistake every time they used it? They'd used it hundreds of times.

  Lyn's pulse began to race. “It's… of a different origin, correct.” Pick up on the pause, Moira. Don't ask the question. Please.

  Well, Nat, can you hear this pattern enough to mimic it?

  “Hmm, no. I can sort of hear it, but it's quiet, and noisy, somehow.”

  Well, do you mind if I give it a try?

  Lyn immediately responded, “Are you sure that's wise? After the dawn incident?”

  I am confident this is going to go completely differently. Trust me.

  They were not convinced, but, well, if Nat and Moira both agreed. “Nat, there is some potential danger here. You saw what happened earlier. Be aware.”

  Lyn makes a good point. Nat — I can't be completely sure this will have no negative impacts. May I try? We'll cut it off immediately if you feel any discomfort.

  Nat looked a bit nervous to Lyn; If he hadn't, they'd want to check him for a head injury — just in case.

  He took a moment before answering, but finally said, “Yes, but, let's start slow, and as low power as you can, this time?”

  That's fair. I will be as cautious as I can. Lyn, can you monitor, please?

  “I wouldn't have it otherwise.”

  Okay. Say when you're ready.

  “Ready.” Both Nat and Lyn answered in unison, as Lyn renewed their grip on his hand.

  Lyn could tell that Moira's pattern had started. It echoed through the tissue; perfect and refined. Not at all like the blitz of static that her attempt at the Ber command signal had been.

  Nat sighed in relief, “Oh, that feels… yeah. That's wonderful.”

  Moira continued for another minute before she let the pattern fade, slowly.

  Well now. I think that's enough of a test for now. That's made me immensely curious.

  Lyn interrupted before Moira had a chance to continue, “Let's give it some time to check for secondary effects. We'll discuss later, okay?”

  Sure, Later. Nat? Pay attention for any sharp pain, redness, or swelling, and tell Lyn immediately if you notice anything unusual, okay?

  “Will do. Thanks.”

  Just then, a flare went up just to the north of the camp. Lyn turned and thought a moment before saying, “Successful hunt; That's a retrieval marker — they'll be back soon, then.”

  They continued, “One thing Nat — your pattern stability is workable, but novice — keep practicing with Moira until she's happy with it. I'm sure she's noticed, but has been polite. Foundation wave stability is requisite for any future precision pattern work — without it, all you can do is big messy things, like fire.”

  They're not wrong. I'm happy to help you refine your pattern work whenever you like.

  Nat responded, with a sincere tone, “I appreciate it. I do want to improve, and the only way to do that is honest feedback. Please let me know where I can improve — I'd rather not learn bad habits now.”

  Lyn continued, “Before they return, I want to do spend some time on foundational education. It's true that holding a steady waveform and memorizing a pattern can enable you to perform this one healing technique, but if all you have is a hammer, everything starts looking like a nail, and in the realm of healing, that's how you cause unintentional harm. Bodies aren't machines, and there are billions of species on Enkoet, from hundreds of distinct solar systems. Ber share a common set of primitive interfaces, but that's only basic manipulation, not fine application of appropriate therapies. If you try, for instance, to encourage cell growth without a fundamental understanding of the potential mechanisms of action, all you're going to do is give someone cancer. Intent matters, yes, but you need to have a clear understanding of what it is you intend. You're not going to learn this in a day — or a week, but the best time to start is a week ago.”

  Nat raised an eyebrow at that, “When's the second-best time to start?”

  “That would be now. Listen; Ber have been engineered to accept specific regrowth and repair signals, though they differ from species to species, and wound to wound. For instance, Brek'ka generally heal by regeneration — that means they induce new tissue in place around old or damaged tissues. The exception to this is their tails, which — like silverpaw — regrow. That means no old tissue or skeletal structure is necessary — it's a whole replacement.”

  Lyn stuck their half foot out towards Nat again. “This is deposition regrowth, silverpaw style. There are other methods — extrusion, for one, would be where osteoblasts on healthy bone push new bone outwards from an anchor position. Humans are completely different — there's no engineering there; no design. Your entire biology is a mess, and healing is no different — though that doesn't mean it's necessarily bad. It is, however, built around the survival of an individual organism. Damaged skin scars, nails grow out, and bones cement — almost nothing can grow back once lost, though. But while undamaged skin grows outwards, once scarred, the skin retains the scars even after years when it is no longer needed.”

  “How exactly does that differ from Ber?”

  “Ber are built to heal more aggressively; short term damage might stop a Human from fighting more easily, but they'll survive if not killed as a result. A Ber will restore function at the cost of survival — we might be able to fight another hour — but then starve to death within hours afterward. Essentially it's improved short term odds, at the expense of long term individual survival. Short term healing must not remove the structural scarring, or the wounds will re-open. Long term wounds must indicate that the scars should not propagate, or you've accomplished nothing, or made it worse. For now, all I want you to focus on, in terms of intent, is speeding up whatever process is already underway. That way you shouldn't cause a scar to grow out of control.”

  “And there's our hunting party. Time to wrap up for now. Keep practicing, and we'll check up on this later today or tomorrow.”

  Moira's voice was especially cheerful, I am learning so much today. I look forward to practicing healing on all sorts of terrible wounds.

  Nat turned to Lyn, both eyebrows raised in mock concern, “Well, Lyn, I hope you're happy. You've doomed us all.”