Aladar looked back at the dead world behind them—and the green world ahead.
The journey was a nightmare. Through razor-rock valleys. Across lakes of salt that burned like fire ants. Every night, Aladar would activate the chip, and the flickering blue ghost of the Star People’s narrator would guide them:
The Last Migration
A vote of claws and muzzles followed. Half the herd chose Kron’s familiar dust. The other half—the desperate, the young, the ones who had watched their siblings dry up and blow away—followed Aladar.
At dawn, they found the canyon. And behind the waterfall, as promised, was a hidden valley—still green. Still wet. Still alive.
“I believe in water and green things,” Aladar replied. “The Star People’s ghost-box shows both.”
Aladar stood at the entrance as the last of his herd hobbled through. Zephyr perched on a rock beside him.
“You know,” the raptor said, “that ghost-box called you the ‘protagonist.’ What does that mean?”