Luding was dimly conscious of his body as he sat beneath the giant Tallow tree, reaching out over the sea of trees. He was aware of himself at the center; the fear and anger from the Talons after loosing two battles; the restive arrogance of the Yingmo; the mourning of the winged Qin ShaoZhu; the distant presence heralding the arrival of the tribal people from the north, across the wall. He knew every tree past its tenth season; the large patches of Elm flowers; the wild Peony growing by the river where a man had built a cottage a century before; the cattle that his raiders had taken to feed the Talons; the tuft-eared wild low-level spirit beast both terrified and angered to have his army camped in its territory, and the thousand other presences rolling away to the limits of his kenning.