Paint peeled off the wagon and where wheels had once been, there was nothing more than broken spokes. A thick log was placed underneath the wagon, as if to keep it from rolling away, but there seemed no way for it to go anywhere. As much as the Aeta could settle, this was a place of permanence. Amia sat next to Tan, arm folded under his. The Brother had left them alone to talk and had returned to make his way around the fire. As he did, the soft presence of his shaping built. Now that Tan knew what to focus on, he sensed it easily. Others mixed with it, few with much strength, but enough that he recognized how many shapings occurred here. The First Mother studied Tan. One hand ran alongside a long piece of dark stone. Runes were worked into it, reminding him of the obsidian bowl used by the Incendin shapers. “Sensing another’s shaping is a difficult skill,” she said. “I have sensed shapings long before I ever managed a shaping of my own.”
