Vero

It happened at Zara's post one afternoon. The trader in the lead that day — call her Marlo — was one good short of a whole new hall. She had spare wood; Vero wanted wood; so Vero, thinking only of his own basket, traded her the stone she was missing for the wood he wanted. A fine deal for him, on its own. He got his wood.

But Marlo got her hall. She leapt ahead. And by the end of the round she'd won the island — on the strength of the one stone Vero had handed her.

Vero sat down heavily beside Zara. "I don't understand. It was a good trade for me. How did I lose?"

Zara's ears tipped forward, kind but plain. "Because you only asked whether it helped you. You never asked who it helped most. Vero — Marlo was one good from winning. You gave her that good. A little wood for you, the whole island for her. The deal wasn't unfair to you exactly; it was just... blind. You didn't look up from your own basket to see the whole board."

"So I shouldn't trade with the leader?"

"Not that, not never," said Zara. "Just — notice them. When someone's already out in front, think twice before you hand them the very thing they're short of. There's almost always another trader who needs that stone just as much, who isn't about to win. Trade with them instead. Keep the island close." She smiled. "A game where everyone stays in it is a better game for everyone — including you. The runaway leader is nobody's friend, not even their own, because then folk stop trading with them at all."