Tevorac woke in the night feeling parched. She couldn’t see anything in the dark, so she crawled along the hut’s dirt floor, feeling her way toward Machli. When she heard the Clan Mother breathing right beside her, she extended a trembling hand and prodded her.

She heard Machli sit up. “What do you need?”

Tevorac pantomimed drinking.

“Thirsty? Me too, actually. I’ll be right back.” Machli got up walked out.

Tevorac got down to crawl again. She reached out and found a stack of folded clothes. Unable to resist, she started to go through them. Machli had already given her better-fitting clothes, but she was still curious.

“Exploring, are we?”

Tevorac jerked her head in the direction of Machli’s voice.

“You’re an odd one,” said Machli. “Don’t make a face. I didn’t mean it as an insult. Only an observation.” She poured something, then pressed a cup into Tevorac’s hands. “It’s a bit cold. The cold’s good for something, at least. Helps keep things from spoiling.”

Tevorac took a sip of the cold, thick liquid. It obviously was not water.

Machli must have seen her confusion. “Never had goat’s milk where you’re from?”

She shook her head.

“Interesting,” said Machli. “I wasn’t born in Teron either. Now I’m the Clan Mother. We really aren’t so much a homogenized tribe so much as we are a few hundred people who agreed to help each other survive.”

Tevorac raised an eyebrow.

“Is it really that strange?” Machli asked. She sipped from her own cup. “I call it good strategy.”

Tevorac downed the rest of her cup and handed it back to Machli. She couldn’t say her thanks, so she simply smiled.

As if reading her mind, Machli asked the dreaded question. “Why can’t you speak?”

Tevorac shrugged. There was no way to answer that question. She didn’t even know the answer herself, but it was far from her biggest concern. Not with the Iron God’s apostles out for her kind’s blood.

She heard something shuffling outside and snapped her head toward the entrance. At least, she assumed that was where the entrance was. She crept over, pulled back the flap, and stuck her head outside.

It was very cold. Her eyes perceived only blurred blocks of muted colors. She could only guess at what they were. Trees. Huts. Rocks. Snow. She knew at least the last one was right.

Something moved in the corner of her eye. She turned her head. There was a vaguely human-shaped object beside her. Tevorac reached a hand out to investigate.

It felt like almost like a human. It wore clothes, though its clothes were sticky and hot. But to her, it felt more like cooked meat. Warm, but not alive.

Without warning, it snatched her wrist.

A wordless scream ripped from her lips. The thing came into sharper focus. It was a human. A dead human. The warm stickiness was blood. She didn’t know much about anatomy, but she knew that no one could lose that much blood and survive.

“Mother,” it said in a strangled voice. “Mother, mother…”

Machli was out in a heartbeat upon hearing Tevorac’s cry. “What the…?”

Tevorac shook her arm free and kicked the corpse-boy’s feet out from under him. He landed on his back in the snow. When a red flash lit up his eyes, Tevorac nearly fainted. He was a Ferash Therall.

“Ah…” He sat up. “She who killed Mother. And a Razaghal. Something…something for us both.”

Machli turned to Tevorac. “What’s happening? Did you do this?”

Tevorac shook her head. She had no idea what was happening either.

“You don’t understand.” The revenant laughed coldly. “Good. Don’t understand.” He stood up.

Tevorac grabbed his head and dug her thumbs into his eye sockets. She felt his eyeballs tear beneath her nails. The sensation made her gag. The Ferash Therall fell to his knees. He couldn’t fight blind. But she could.

She punched him in the face hard enough to knock out some of his teeth. His limbs jerked like a puppet’s, but he didn’t scream. He didn’t even try to fight back. He sat there and bore her beating in silence.

Finally, Machli pulled her away. “Let’s not kill him right now. We have to question him.”

“Mother…” the boy said. “This is the wolf’s blessing. Your mother for his.”

“Wolf’s blessing?” Machli asked. “What do you…wait a moment. Is this about the wolf I shot after it tried to attack the horse I was on? How would you know about that? Why would you even care?”

“Akyvak,” he said. “Akyvak! The master!”

A loud bark silenced the boy. A pale wolf appeared beside him. It growled and barked again. Tevorac stiffened. It was the same wolf she had saved not too long ago. Every Razaghal had power, but she had never known such an unnatural, horrifying ability. Not I’m any less of an abomination, she reminded herself.

The wolf wasn’t growling at her, though. It was growling at Machli. Tevorac could practically feel the hatred, like heat from a fire. There was only one way this could end. She turned to Machli and signed “sorry” before knocking her unconscious with a swift punch.

She dragged Machli back into the hut, checked to make sure she was still breathing, then left, feeling more than a little ashamed. She did her best to hide that shame in front of the wolf. She extended a hand for him to sniff, then stroked his head. His ears folded back. The boy twitched and gurgled. “Akyvak…I’m cold…don’t you still need me?”

“So that’s your name, wolf?” A man’s voice interrupted. “And you’re here too, girl. I suppose I haven’t properly introduced myself. I’m Zoromon. You are…?”

She did her best to indicate that she couldn’t speak. Then she pointed at the wolf and the Ferash Therall.

“Azvalath came and told me what was going on. I can try talking to Akyvak. I’m best at talking to horses, but I can try,” said Zoromon.

Tevorac nodded.

Machli poked her head out of the hut. She was awake and looked more than a little disoriented. At the sight of her, the wolf growled again. “Zoromon, you’re here. Thank goodness. Tell the wolf I’m sorry and that he’ll be safe with you and Azvalath. Also…” Machli looked over at the reanimated Ferash Therall. “We need a favor.”