“It’s a good thing we travel light, don’t you think?” Zoromon asked.

“Indeed,” said Azvalath. He slung one pack over his back and gave the other one to Zoromon. “Now why don’t you…whoa!”

Sakhal charged past with a dangling lead. Zoromon screamed the horse’s name and ran to catch him. The panicked horse slowed down and let Zoromon grab his rope. “Sakhal, talk to me,” Zoromon urged. “What’s going on?”

Azvalath watched as his partner and the horse put their heads together. A few seconds later, Zoromon ran back with Sakhal in tow. “He says Daichen tried to kill him. He…”

“Slow down,” said Azvalath. “Daichen? You mean Machli’s nasty horse? He’s obnoxious, but I wouldn’t think…” Azvalath paused. He had a sinking feeling in his gut.

“He insists Daichen tried to kill him, but Tevorac saved his life. She threw a crate at Daichen and knocked him off his feet long enough for them to run away. But Machli…Machli got angry at Tev. He doesn’t know the rest because he was running too fast,” said Zoromon. “But he thinks Daichen might be a hidden Ferash Therall.”

“A Kai’rei?” Azvalath gave Zoromon a grave look. “By this point, I wouldn’t doubt it. Saddle my horse if you wouldn’t mind. I have to talk to Machli.”

He went and found Machli beside her white stallion. Daichen was back on his feet and looked irate. Machli stroked his neck and turned to look at Azvalath. “Can I help you?”

“Where is Tevorac?” he demanded.

“Who?” Machli looked confused. “Oh, are you talking about the quiet one? None of your business.”

“I’m afraid it is my business as the Razaghal’s guardian,” said Azvalath.

“I’m afraid that as your guardian, it’s best that I keep you out of this,” she retorted.

Azvalath took a deep breath and glared at Machli. “Now tell me where she is.”

“She’s on a supply cart. She doesn’t get to ride today.” The words spilled out. “Now sit and listen.”

Azvalath sat in the snow at Machli’s feet and looked up at her.

“No one will ever do more for you – or them – than I have as the Clan Mother. I’ve kept you safe to the best of my ability for as long as I’ve known you, and that’s what I’ll keep doing for as long as I live. With that being said, I think there’s something you don’t see right now, Azvalath. You love them all so much that you don’t understand that sometimes, punishment is necessary,” said Machli.

“Why?” said Azvalath. “Because she threw a crate at your horse? That’s not the same thing as trying to spill Razaghal blood, which, I might add, your horse was attempting to do.”

“Stallions fight, Azvalath. It’s a fact of life,” said Machli. “Nothing unnatural about it. I warned her not to intervene, but she did, and it’s lucky she didn’t cause my steed any serious injury. I don’t think it’s out of line for me to discipline her.”

Azvalath narrowed his eyes. “I wonder if I ought to suspect you now too. What’s your real reason for keeping us? Now tell me the truth.” The command made his head throb.

“Now be silent,” Machli retaliated. She crouched beside him, keeping one hand on Daichen’s lead rope. “The only reason I give a damn about safeguarding Razaghal when it actually endangers the clan as a whole is because it gives me some sense of purpose in this senseless shithole of a world. You must know what it feels like to have no purpose, yes?”

Azvalath said nothing.

“You’re going to ride with me today. We’re almost ready to leave, so go get your horse,” she said.

Azvalath got up and went to fetch Tashnuk. His gray mare was already saddled and stood dozing. He woke her up with a pat on the head, untied her, and mounted. She let out a little whinny. Azvalath couldn’t help but smile. Though she was only mortal, not a Razaghal, she had to be his favorite horse.

He found Zoromon mounted on Sakhal a short distance away. “Machli has requested my company. She says that Tev is on one of the supply carts. If you see her, let her know that I’ll help her get out of this in one piece.”

Zoromon nodded. “The wolf’s leading the party. Keep an eye on him.”

“Two eyes,” said Azvalath. “He might have scared us all out of our skins with that…incident involving the dead Ferash Therall, but I think he understands now that we’re trying to protect him.”

“Don’t remind me,” said Zoromon. “Walk on, Sakhal.”

They split up. Azvalath found Machli on her stallion beside the wolf. Akyvak glared at Machli with loathing yellow eyes. Though Azvalath could not communicate with animals like Zoromon could, he knew there was deep hatred. He looked at Machli and noticed she was wearing a wolf pelt. “You’re wearing his mother’s skin in front of him,” said Azvalath. “I would hate you too.”

“That she-wolf tried to attack my mount. That’s why I did it,” said Machli. “And it seemed a shame to waste her pelt. Dare I remind you that you’ve killed plenty of Ferash Therall – many of them human – in your lifetime?”

“I have,” said Azvalath, “but I don’t make trophies of their corpses.”

Machli chuckled. “Don’t act so high and mighty. You know you’re not any better than me.”

“I know,” said Azvalath. “In fact, I’m far worse than you could possibly imagine.”

Once everyone had assembled, they let Akyvak take the lead. The wolf calmed somewhat when he didn’t have to look at Machli. Perhaps the thought of fighting Ferash Therall preoccupied him. Azvalath remembered the raven’s visit the night before, and a shiver ran through him. The truth he had kept hidden for so long was finally emerging.

He remembered waking up the night before after yet another traumatic nightmare, and how he had looked at Zoromon sleeping so peacefully beside him. How he had, for a frightening moment, seriously contemplated killing Zoromon in his sleep and running back to the Ferash. Then how disgusted he had been with himself the moment after, how devastated that such a thought could cross his mind.

Azvalath wiped his eyes before the tears could show. He swore silently to himself that he would never do such a thing. His whole world was right here. The Iron God had nothing for him. Not anymore.

Machli must have noticed him rubbing his eyes. “Everything all right?”

Azvalath nodded. “Something in my eye.”

“Yeah, this snow can be a bit much,” said Machli.

Azvalath clutched his necklace and shut his eyes until the intruding thoughts passed, though he knew the only evil spirit giving him those thoughts was his own spirit. When he opened his eyes, Machli looked even more concerned.

“You know you can talk to me, Azvalath. I know you’ve had a lot going on lately, but I’ve got two good ears,” said Machli. She smiled at him.

“And I hate to say it’s largely because of your idea of taking the fight to the Ferash Therall,” said Azvalath, “but that’s the truth.”

“Don’t you want them gone? Without their threat, you would finally be able to rest,” said Machli. “Would you not?”

Azvalath sighed. “At what cost, though? Zoromon, Sakhal, Akyvak, Tev…they’re family to me, even if not all of them love me in return. I can’t lose them. I can’t go through that pain again.”

“Again?” Machli asked.

“Never mind,” said Azvalath. He looked down at his necklace again. Kolo’s necklace, he corrected. Then he remembered that night, how alone and how hollow he had felt as he lay on the icy ground, the sword heavy in his hands as he had prepared to take his own life. With his sahad ripped from his side like his heart from his chest, he had nothing left to live for but fear of death. Then Zoromon – a stranger at that time – had wrested the sword from his grasp. He wondered if Zoromon would have saved him that night if he had known the whole truth.

“Azvalath. Look at me.” Machli’s voice snapped him from his thoughts.

He shifted in his saddle and looked up. “What?”

“They won’t die if you keep doing what you’ve always done. Protect them from anyone who might harm them,” she said. “I don’t see what the difference is now.”

He looked down at his horse. Tashnuk looked uncomfortable with Daichen beside her. He saw Daichen pin his ears for a second and his heart skipped a beat. He knew there was no way Machli would hear anything of his suspicions regarding her favorite horse. Instead, he asked the other question burning on his mind. “What are you going to do to Tevorac?”

“She’s lost her riding privileges for today. And I think I’ll let Daichen give her a good kick,” said Machli. “Don’t pull a face. I was joking about the second part.”

Somehow, Azvalath doubted she was.

They found no blueholes that day until late in the evening, when they came upon a small but impossibly deep pond surrounded on all sides by sheer cliffs. They stopped near its edges to set up camp for the night. Murmurs circulated the group about Ferash Therall in the dark, but ordinary night-walkers were not the ones Azvalath feared.

He feared the Kai’rei, and despite all the smiles she gave him, he feared Machli. He had a paranoid sort of terror that she would do something awful to Tevorac. That fear kept both his eyes locked on Machli and her horse well past the time when all others had settled down to sleep.

“I’m keeping watch tonight,” said Azvalath.

“So is Perst,” said Machli. “Make sure you two put an extra layer on. It’s going to be a cold night. Maybe sleep in shifts.”

Azvalath swallowed hard. Beads of cold sweat formed on his brow. He watched Machli walk away and kept his lips sealed. He stood there, his feet planted, even as Perst came to stand beside him. The whole camp was deathly quiet, except for the icy winds that gusted through with sounds like ghosts’ whispers. Then there was another sound – one that made Azvalath’s blood boil.

Azvalath glared at Perst. “Don’t fucking whistle.”

Perst switched to speaking Razar. “Do you kiss Zoromon with that mouth?”

Azvalath said nothing. The sound of the Ferash Therall tongue gave him a sensation like moths fluttering inside him. He sat down and put his head in his hands.

“I can do it for you, you know,” said Perst.

“Do what?” Azvalath asked, also in Razar.

“I can dispatch Zoromon if it’s too hard for you,” said Perst. “Really, Azvalath. Would you rather he go in his sleep, still loving you, or see that look of betrayal when he inevitably finds out the truth about you?”

“Stop,” said Azvalath. “You can’t…”

Perst put a hand on his shoulder. “Do you really think he’s still going to love you once he knows? Come on. We can spare him the agony.”

Azvalath drew in a deep, shuddering breath. He tightened his grip around the hilt of his sword. He knew what he had to do. He knew. His heart pounded as he got to his feet and turned to look at Perst. He steeled himself, then spoke his answer. “All right. Let’s do it.”

Perst smiled. “That’s more like it.”

Azvalath drew his sword. He knew what he had to do. There was no other way.

He plunged the blade through Perst’s torso in the blink of an eye. Perst’s glee turned to panic in an instant once he realized what had happened. “What the…?” he gasped. Then he screamed. “MACHLI!”

Azvalath clapped his hand over Perst’s mouth. “Now be silent!”

Too late. Machli had heard. Azvalath heard her running before he heard her scream. “Azvalath, what have you done? Why…?” As she came into view, her voice trailed off.

He threw Perst to the ground, where he writhed in agony, his blood pooling in the snow. Azvalath looked at Machli. “I’m protecting my family,” he said, “from anyone who might harm them.”

She looked confused, like she didn’t understand what he was saying. “What language are you speaking?”

When he realized he had spoken in Razar, Azvalath stiffened. His eyes widened. He knew his words could not be unheard.

“Azvalath?”

Fear and rage pounded through him, white-hot and all-consuming. He knew what he had to do.

She took a step closer. Azvalath raised his sword high and cut her down with a single swift stroke. Machli crumpled into the snow beside Perst, her expression frozen in lifeless alarm. Perst’s eyes darted back and forth between Azvalath and the slain Clan Mother. Azvalath grabbed Perst’s arm and forced him to his feet. “Come.”

He half-guided, half-dragged Perst to the cliff overlooking the bluehole and shoved him over the edge. Perst landed with a sickening thud on the jagged rocks far below. Azvalath whispered a curse in Razar, then turned to walk away. Blood dripped from his sword’s deep blue blade. His heart burned and his head swam with vicious passions.

He found the wolf sniffing at Machli’s corpse when he returned. Akyvak’s tail wagged as he licked blood from the Clan Mother’s chest. Azvalath came up, got his attention, then pointed him in the direction of Machli’s white horse. “Now kill him.”

With that command came a whiplash of pain in his skull. His vision blurred and warped beyond comprehension. Despite the agony, a grim smile formed on his lips. He felt rage and fear still, but also euphoria, certainty, power. He was the predator now. He would never cower again.