The static of the old world was fading. In its place, a new kind of silence was growing, a symphony of perfect, harmonious thought that only Dr. Lucian Kael could hear. He stood on the porch of a derelict ranger station, nestled deep in the forests of what had once been a national park. The air here was clean, crisp, and blessedly free of the stench of urban decay. Below him, in the valley, a portion of his flock moved through the trees, a silent, gray river of bodies. They did not hunger here. There was little to hunt. They were simply… waiting. Waiting for his guidance.
His connection to them was no longer a simple nudge, a subtle influence. It was a conversation. He could feel their collective consciousness, a vast, placid ocean of single-minded purpose. And they, in turn, could feel his will. He was the nerve center of a body that spanned hundreds of miles. He was their shepherd, and the world was his pasture.
