As Lem's simulated self closed in on the pond, the experience became even more surreal.
It was the first time he had seen the harvest tree at night. The gray-blue bark shined, and the moonlight reflected in the pond, casting a flickering and dazzling reflection among the pale water lilies.
The centerpiece, the perfect water lily, was like a queen among her entourage. Lit up by the moonlight, its pink flowers radiated delicate beauty, as they splayed symmetrically around its yellow center.
By the waterside, five huge wolf kings towered over the procession of wolves. When they turned, one by one, to look at Lem's simulated self, it was clear from the gleam in their eyes that they had an intelligence that the others did not possess.
Yet again, he did not sense any hostility.
The entire scene felt peaceful and idyllic. Even the dual sensations of pain and pleasantness seemed to fade into the background.
As the wolves at the front of the line reached the pond, they drank from the water, before turning around and joining the line moving in the opposite direction.
Lem's mind wandered.
He remembered the stories that Master Brightflame had told him, and he could not help but feel sadness at what he was seeing.
The entire race had been brought down by the actions of their ancestor. Now, they were forced to get their water surreptitiously, in the middle of the night.
Even though it was pure conjecture on his part, he could not help but feel like the wolves and he were both fugitives of the world who had been taken in by the harvest tree.
The tree had given him the water lily, and it was now giving the wolves permission to drink from its pond.
Lem's simulated self stayed and watched as the line of wolves continued to move. He was rooted to the scene, whether by its beauty, or his sense of solidarity with the wolves, Lem did not know.
Eventually, the number of wolves in the line dwindled to the point that the end of the line was in sight.
Shortly afterward, there were only a few wolves left apart from the wolf kings. Lem heard a couple of howls in the distance.
Then, the last wolf drank from the pond, before turning around and walking away, following its brethren into the forest.
The harvest tree began to rumble, as though it had been waiting for just that moment.
One of its branches extended down into the pond in a familiar motion, plucking a flower from the stem of a peripheral water lily. At the same time, a few more budding flowers shifted in place, poking up from the bottom of the pond and rising in between lily pads.
The branch extended to the five wolf kings, dropping the water lily at their feet, before returning to the harvest tree and growing still again.
[You watch, as the line of wolves drink water and leave. When the rest of the wolves have gone, the harvest tree plucks another water lily and gives it to the wolf kings.]
The wolf kings moved in a circle around the lily, before slowly eating its pedals.
They did not bark or snarl. There was no fighting, only a civilized meal between equals.
The water lily was quickly consumed, and the wolf kings laid down one by one, with the appearance of indolence or perhaps docility.
The pond felt empty.