We look down on mighty rivers, swoop low to sparklin clear lakes where fish jump. Great forests of green trees. Then it’s blue. Blindin blue an sunlight dancin on it. Water. Water. Endless water. Not a river. Not a lake. Somethin else.

Is that the Big Water? I says. I’m with DeMalo now, in the middle of the room.

Yes, he says. The ocean.

The roar of waves. Giant fish, smooth black with white bellies, leap high an splash down. Smaller ones, grey an sleek, burst to the surface an leap – six of ’em at once – fer the joy of swimmin free. Then we’re unner the water. Hunnerds of fish swim together. Fast. Movin this way, that way. Other kinds of swimmin creatures. All sizes an shapes an colours.

Some of the Stewards sit on the ground, quiet. Others move around the room. I turn an turn. I gasp. Cry out at one wondrous sight after another. I cain’t take it all in. My heart’s beatin fast, like I’m runnin.

What is this? I says to DeMalo. Where is it? I wanna go there!

It’s our world, he says. The way it used to be.

We’re back on land, flyin over vast plains. Herds of beasts gallop below. Many kinds of springers an horses. Long-neck spotted ones, black an white striped ones. The rumble an dust of their hoofs. Huge, slow grey beasts bellow their long noses. Big cats roar an chase. Jackals chatter an tear at the dead. Birds of all colours shriek an squawk an take to the sky in dancin, rapturous flocks. Funny-faced creatures hang from trees by their long tails, their young clutchin tight. Great waterfalls tumble an roar. Trees. Flowers. Snow. Ice. Insects. Lizards. Butterflies. Strange, marvellous creatures, big an small.

We go to cities. By the sea. On the land. The lost cities of the ancient world. Their tall skyscrapers. Mysterious machines. So many people. Walking an eatin an laughin an playin an dancin. Travellin in cars, on two-wheelers like Em’s from the landfill. They soar in their flyin machines that I seen when I crossed Sandsea.

Pa was right, I whisper. They did go up in the air.

Higher an higher we fly. Higher than any bird could ever go till we leave the wide wonder of the earth an sky behind.

Stars come out, all around us. On the ceilin, on the walls an unner our feet. Then on one wall, a little blue ball floats in a ocean of stars. On the blue ball, there’s bits of green an white.

The music’s slow now. Quiet. Tears track down my face. I ain’t cryin. But I cain’t seem to stop the tears.

Then the stars go out, one by one. The little blue ball gits fainter. The music fades. Till we’re in darkness once more. Silence once more.

I feel DeMalo slip from the room. As the Tonton an Stewards light their lanterns, nobody speaks a word. It wouldn’t be right.

We make our way back through the unnerground rooms, up the steps an outside. I blink as we step into the clear light of the mornin. One of the Tonton chains an locks the rusted door an pulls the brambles back to hide it.

DeMalo’s waitin fer us in the sweetgrass meadow. The Stewards sit on the ground at his feet. I stand a little ways apart. The mornin breeze plays fresh an gentle. I let it dry my tears. We’re quiet fer a bit. There’s a solid, heavy ache inside of me.

At last DeMalo says, That was our Mother Earth. Our home. Before the Wreckers ravaged her. Desecrated her. Before they crawled over every inch of her body, stripping her, skinning her, gutting her. Poisoning her ground, her water and her air. Could you ever have imagined such beauty? It doesn’t seem possible, does it, that such wonders were the everyday, right here, all around us. I couldn’t imagine it. Until one morning, one glorious, unforgettable dawn, I heard music on the wind. It whispered to me, led me to that door in the hill, down the stairs, into that room. And there, as the new day dawned, I had the vision. It radiated through my body, just as you’ve seen today. Mother Earth revealed to me, through me, the unimaginable glories of our world as it used to be.

As DeMalo’s speakin, he looks from one person to the next, holdin their eyes with his. Like he’s talkin only to them. The Stewards lean towards him, each face shinin tight with hope, with belief. I suddenly realize I’m doin the same.

He goes on.

And she revealed to me my destiny. You are the Pathfinder, she told me. I have chosen you to heal me, starting right here in New Eden. You will choose only the healthiest, brightest, hardest workers to help you in this mighty task. Our Mother Earth chose me at that dawn, and she has led me to choose you. It’s our life’s work to heal her. Mine, yours, our children, our children’s children. It’s the work of many lives and it will take many lifetimes. It’s the greatest work that anyone has ever undertaken. We’ll do right by her this time. We won’t fly too close to the sun, the air is for the birds. The bounty of the earth and the clean waters are enough for us, and those we share in harmony with the creatures, who have as much right to be here as we do. Remember this day – when your body’s tired and your spirit’s weak – remember my words but, more than anything, hold fast in your heart that wondrous vision of the world as it was. The vision that I have shown you. We are the chosen ones, my friends, you and I. This is the dawn of a new day on earth.

The Stewards come up to him, boy with girl, two by two, an kneel at his feet. He touches each one on the forehead, four times, on the point of each quarter of their circle brand, sayin, earth, water, air and fire, we serve the Earth, our sacred Mother. He kisses the brand. Then he joins their hands together an they go off through the meadow. DeMalo nods at the two Tonton an they follow the Stewards. Then it’s jest him an me, standin in the grass with the blue sky above. The day wraps around us, the cool freshness of the air beginnin to warm.

Did you take them from their families? I says.

We brought them to New Eden to show them this, he says. To teach them, to share with them the good news. That something amazing will be accomplished and they’re going to be a part of it.

Where’re they goin now? I says.

To start their new lives, he says. To work for the common good of the earth and the earth’s people.

Auriel’s camp. The exhausted an unwanted, huddled on the banks of the Snake River. I think of stolen land an Billy Six, spiked through the throat.

Not all people, I says.

Who are the best stewards of the earth? he says. The old and weak? The sick? Or the young and the strong? Whose children will best serve the earth? Those born to the scum of Hopetown? Weak children born to the weak? Or the children of these people?

I dunno, I says. I ain’t never thought about it before.

Resources are precious, he says, rare. There isn’t enough clean water or good land to go around. You know that.

We sink down into the meadow grass. It tickles my bare legs. He leans back on his elbows. His hair shines like a crow’s wing.

I wish I’d never seen that, I says. All them wondrous things. I wish I didn’t know that’s the way it used to be.

I felt the same when I first saw it, he says. But I couldn’t leave. I kept returning here, dawn after dawn, and the vision would come, over and over, until I was possessed by it.

I cain’t ever ferget it, I says. But it’s long gone. Lost. An there ain’t nuthin I can do.

But there is! He kneels in front of me, takin my hands. You’ve already started, don’t you see? You didn’t just survive Hopetown, you conquered it. You destroyed it and you did the same at Freedom Fields and Pine Top Hill. You killed Pinch. You began to clean the infected wound. That’s what I’m doing here.