Wood snapped explosively, spattering Gavving with splinters as he leapt across the bucking, tearing bark. A million insects poured from a sudden black gap that must have reached a klomter into the heartwood. Gavving cried out and waved his arms through the buzzing cloud, trying to clear enough air to breathe. The tree was everything that was, and the tree was ending. If he’d stopped to think, his fear would have frozen him fast. He held to the one thought: Get the meat and get out! The nose-arm legs tumbled loose within a cloud of burning coals. One haunch was in reach. Gavving caught a line to pull it free of the coals, then jumped to catch it against his shoulder. Hot grease burned his neck. He yelled and thrust himself away. Now what? He couldn’t think in this end-of-the-world roar. He doffed his backpack, tied it against the nose-arm leg, braced against the pack, and pushed himself into the sky. Clouds of insects and pulverized wood half hid the shuddering, thundering tree. Dagger-sized splinters flew past. Gavving braced one of his jet pods against the pack and twisted the tip. Seeds and cold gas blasted past him. The pod ripped itself free of his hands, spat seeds into the flesh of his face, and was gone. His hands shook. Beads of blood were pooling on his cheek and his neck. He dug out his remaining jet pod and tried again, his tongue between his teeth. This time the pod held steady until it had gone quiet. The world came apart. He watched it all while his terror changed to awe. Fiery wind swept past him and left him in the open sky. Two fireballs receded in and out, until the home tree had become two bits of fluff linked by an infinite line of smoke. Awesome! Nobody could hope to live through a bigger disaster. All of Quinn Tribe must be dead…the idea was really too big to grasp…all but Clave’s citizens, and they’d lost Jiovan too, and who was left? He looked about him. Nobody? A cluster of specks, far out. He’d used both his jet pods, and now he was lost in the sky. At least he wouldn’t starve…