Zoromon ran back to his hut and found Azvalath sitting wide awake. “Azvalath, I talked to the wolf. To Akyvak. Now he’s doing a favor for Machli,” said Zoromon. “And I’m not sure I like the sound of this favor.”

“What is this favor?” asked Azvalath.

“Well, I don’t mean to alarm you when I say this, but she asked him to send the corpse boy back to the Pause. To show the way so we could take the fight to them.”

Azvalath bolted to his feet. “What?”

Zoromon nodded. “It’s true.”

“That’s it, Zoromon. If we’re going to keep each other and the other Razaghal safe, we have to get out of here,” said Azvalath.

It was Zoromon’s turn to be shocked. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” said Azvalath. “I’ll pack whatever we can carry. You go and get the horses ready. Then I’ll round up the wolf and…and Tevorac. She’s a Razaghal too, regardless of how we feel about her.” When Zoromon gave him an odd look, he clarified. “The quiet one. Meet outside the stable.”

Zoromon nodded slowly. He was too rattled by everything going on to argue. He went back out even though it was dark. As he made his way to the stable, he thought he heard footsteps behind him. He whirled around and yanked his dagger from its sheath.

“Whoa, whoa!” Perst shouted. “I’m not looking to fight! I just wanted to know what you’re doing out here all by yourself at night.”

Zoromon lowered the dagger. “None of your business.”

“Hey, I’m only looking out for a neighbor.” Perst stepped closer. “Let me guess. You’re going on some sort of adventure, aren’t you?”

Zoromon scoffed. “I suppose you could call it that. Now, if you say a word about this to Machli, there’s going to be trouble.” He turned around and kept walking.

“Hang on.” Perst grabbed his shoulder. “I’d like to come with you.”

Zoromon looked over his shoulder at Perst. “Really? Why’s that?”

“Well, I…I’ve been wanting to get up and going somewhere for a while. Machli stresses me out. And what’s the harm? I’m handy with a bow. I’ll be of great service.”

“You don’t have a horse,” said Zoromon.

“I’ve got a nice cow. I’ll bet she’s nicer than your horse,” said Perst. “Don’t look at me like that. You might be a horse person, but they’re not the only animals you can ride.”

“Well, saddle your cow.” said Zoromon. “Meet me outside the stable.”

Perst ran off. Zoromon secretly hoped he would back out before it was time to go.

When he walked into the stable, it was so dark that he could barely see anything. Fortunately, he knew the place well enough to not stumble around while his eyes adjusted. Zoromon went up to Sakhal’s stall and called his name to wake him up. “Sakhal! I know, it’s odd to be up right now. On your feet, all right? Good boy.” When the black horse stuck his head out, Zoromon scratched his muzzle. “All right. Look at me. We’re going on a journey. I don’t know where, but it could be a long way. Let’s get you ready.”

Sakhal put his head on Zoromon, who then saw Ayhoshki’s image in his mind.

“Yes, Pokey’s coming too. Don’t worry.” Another picture. “And Tashnuk. And maybe a cow.” He gave the horse an image of Perst sitting on a cow. Sakhal nickered in amusement.

Zoromon put Sakhal’s hood and riding halter on him and led him out of the stall. He covered the horse’s back with a caribou pelt, then put the saddle on and tightened up the woven goat-hair girth. Sakhal pinned his ears. Zoromon scowled. “There is no way that girth actually hurts.”

Sakhal corrected him with a mental image of Machli’s white stallion.

“I don’t like Daichen either. But guess what? He’s not coming with us. We’re only going on a trip with our friends,” Zoromon assured him.

Sakhal softened. He let Zoromon strap on his hoof boots and leg wraps without any protest.

“Good boy, Sakhal,” said Zoromon. Sakhal’s ears pricked up. Zoromon tied him, then got to work with the other horses. Ayhoshki was oddly docile, perhaps from the confusion of being woken in the night. She didn’t object to any of her tack getting put on, even the halter that she liked to insist was uncomfortable despite the padding. Zoromon tied her next to Sakhal, and within minutes, the two horses were grooming each other.

By the time it was Tashnuk’s turn, she was wide awake. She expressed being nervous. “It’ll be all right,” said Zoromon. “We just have to help our friends. You like helping, right?”

She planted an image in his mind of her bridle with the leather-wrapped bit, then of Azvalath looking terrified.

Zoromon interpreted quickly. “You want a bit so Azvalath doesn’t feel anxious?” He laughed. “Tashnuk, you’re so…”

He was interrupted by Perst’s voice outside. “What’s taking you so long, Zoromon?”

“Nothing!” he called, then groaned quietly. It looked like Perst would be coming after all. He saddled Tashnuk as quickly as he could, then opened the door. Sure enough, Perst stood there with his saddled cow, holding it by the reins attached to its nose ring.

Zoromon could feel Sakhal’s amusement without even trying. He made an effort not to laugh. A few minutes later, Azvalath showed up with the other two Razaghal. Akyvak was on a slip lead like a dog, and didn’t look terribly happy about it. Tevorac held onto Azvalath’s arm, looking wary and confused.

“She can’t see very well,” said Azvalath. “Which horse are we putting her on?”

“Ayhoshki, I suppose,” said Zoromon. He tied Ayhoshki to Sakhal’s saddle, then brought all the horses out.

Azvalath gave him an uneasy look. He tied Akyvak to his own saddle, then mounted. Tashnuk shied at the sight of a wolf, but incredibly, none of them bolted. Zoromon brought Ayhoshki up to Tevorac. “Tev, Pokey. Pokey, Tev. Up you go.” He helped Tevorac mount, then looked Ayhoshki in the eyes. “Be nice, all right?”

He mounted Sakhal and Perst got on his cow. They rode out of the settlement at a walk and tried to make as little noise as possible. No one noticed them leaving, thankfully. Once they were out of view of the huts, Azvalath rode ahead at a trot. “Keep up,” he said. “Let’s get far away before anyone starts trying to track us down.”

“Why would anyone come after us?” Perst asked.

“Because,” said Azvalath, “in case you haven’t noticed, Machli is a bit odd about me and Zoromon. Never mind the fact that we’ve been alive for far longer than she can fathom.”

“I’m fifteen hundred,” said Zoromon. “He’s thirty-five hundred. But I suppose the difference doesn’t matter after so long.” He looked at Azvalath and caught the briefest hint of a smile. Then he looked at Tevorac. She clutched the pommel of her saddle and shivered. “You all right?” Zoromon asked.

“She doesn’t talk with her voice,” said Azvalath. “She knows some sign language, though. Luckily, I had a friend who was hard of hearing a long time ago, so I can interpret.”

“Is this the friend who died before I met you?” Zoromon asked.

Perst jogged his cow up next to Zoromon and Sakhal. “What’s this?”

“You know how I met Azvalath? No?” He looked at his partner. “Mind if I tell him the story?”

“Go ahead.” Azvalath didn’t even turn around to look at them.

“I lived feral for the first few decades of my life. Like a wild animal. I could always talk well with horses, so I would make friends with them instead of with humans. I was always afraid that other humans could be Ferash Therall, so I never went near them. That is, until I was watching my horse friends one night and one of them got stolen. So I tracked them down.

“I never did find that horse. But at the end of the trail, I found Azvalath. He was lying on the ground with a sword, about to stab himself. I stopped him. Then I…well, I stayed with him. He told me that someone very important to him had just died. Never told me her name, though.”

Azvalath huffed. “What would her name even mean to you?”

Perst looked pensive for a moment. Tevorac let out a muffled groan. Perst looked at her. “So…you make noise, at least.”

Tevorac scowled.

Then Sakhal asked Zoromon a disconcerting question. He showed a mental picture of a Ferash Therall hiding in a bush, then of everyone with them.

“Hidden Ferash Therall? Where are you getting these ideas, Sakhal?” Zoromon patted his neck. “If there are any, we’re getting away from them too.”

“Somehow,” said Azvalath, “I doubt we’ll be that lucky the whole way.”

“Quit being so grim, Azvalath,” said Zoromon. “Have you decided where we’re going?”

“Next nearest bluehole, then hope it takes us far enough away that we don’t get tangled up in this Ferash Therall mess,” said Azvalath. “But knowing our fortune lately, it’ll probably take us straight into the Pause.”

Zoromon rolled his eyes. “Lighten up, will you?” He glanced back at Tevorac, who seemed slightly more comfortable with being on a horse. She clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention, then made a gesture like opening a book.

Azvalath looked over his shoulder and interpreted. “Someone should tell a story?”

She pointed at herself.

“You want to tell a story. All right. Let’s hear…I mean see it.” Azvalath slowed Tashnuk down and rode beside her. “I’ll interpret as best I can.”

“I’ll picture it for our mounts,” said Zoromon. “How’s a story sound, Sakhal?”

Tevorac signed slowly, perhaps in consideration of her interpreter. Azvalath narrated her gestures. “There was a little lightningfisher who lived on a great big mountain. She was very strong, fast, and fierce, but she was a little different from her big brother. They didn’t speak the same language. So, they made a new one and flew and sang together.” She paused and looked at Azvalath, who told her gently to go on.

“Their father loved them both very much, but big brother had to leave the mountain. Little lightningfisher missed him, but she had Father still. She flew with him instead. But then her wings broke. When she couldn’t fly anymore, Father threw her off the mountain. She fell, she screamed, then she was quiet. Father didn’t love her anymore. Was it because she couldn’t fly like big brother?

“But she didn’t touch the ground. Someone caught her and said, ‘I will give you new wings.’ And the new wings are not really hers, but she flies again. She’s looking for big brother. But does he remember her?” Tevorac stopped there and lowered her hands.

Azvalath’s eyes widened. He looked deeply disturbed. “Tevorac? Who told you that story?”

She shrugged and looked away.

“It’s just a story,” said Zoromon. “What’s the big deal?”

“That’s what we all tell ourselves,” said Azvalath. “But that’s seldom true. Stories don’t come from nowhere.” His voice diminished to barely above a whisper. “Tevorac…what is the little lightningfisher’s name?”

She answered in signs. Zoromon saw his partner stiffen. Azvalath’s eyes widened like two full moons. He clutched at his necklace and bent over in the saddle. Though the cold wind howled over their heads, Zoromon could hear Azvalath sobbing.