Ido’s heart hammered. He swallowed hard. As he stepped up to the shelter where their boss slept, sweat soaked his forehead even though it was freezing cold.

His brother clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ve got your back, Ido.”

That gave the boy some courage. He rubbed his hands together and breathed on them to warm them up. “I’m back, boss!”

Haode emerged from the shelter. His eyes darted around, then found the brothers. He reached into his pockets and handed them each a pair of slitted snow goggles. Then he went and stood by the remains of the fire pit. He didn’t say a single word.

Ido put his goggles on. Immediately, the growing daylight was far less harsh on his eyes. Ferash Therall’s deep red eyes were meant to find light in the darkest places, and during broad daylight, they did their work too well. Ido often wished he, like Haode, could have a normal human’s eyes when he wanted them, but that was a blessing known only to the most powerful Ferash Therall.

Dakko struggled to adjust his goggles. Ido offered to help, but his brother declined. Haode stayed quiet. Too quiet.

Ido came to the older warrior’s side. “Haode?”

Haode startled at the sound of Ido’s voice. He gasped and his head snapped around. “What?” His voice was a growl.

Ido backed away. His heart sped to a frantic race. This was bad, he thought. Haode was usually calmer in the mornings, but the sun was barely up, and he was already tense. Ido struggled for words. “I…um, can we eat now?”

Haode took a deep breath. Ido noticed him shivering as he bent down and rummaged through his pack. “Here.” His voice was stiff as he handed each of the brothers a strip of jerky. Ido took his and bit into it.

Dakko accepted the offering with a tentative hand. “Thanks.”

Haode nodded, then stared at the ground.

Ido swallowed, then crouched next to their boss. “You should eat too.”

“I know,” said Haode. He grabbed a strip of meat for himself and stared at it, wide-eyed. His body gave a violent shudder as he took a bite. Haode gagged and then forced himself to swallow.

Ido couldn’t even imagine the agony of living in so much fear that food became poison.

Haode rubbed his eyes. “Put your hood up, Dakko.”

Dakko did as he was told. Ido shot his brother a nervous glance. Any moment, their boss could lose what little composure he held onto, and they both knew it.

When Haode’s eyes met his, Ido resisted the urge to shrink away. “Haode, there’s something we need to tell you.”

“I know.” Haode stood up. “What’s stopping you from saying it, then?”

Ido stayed on the ground and trembled. He looked at Dakko, who also looked petrified.

Haode slapped him. “Look at me when I’m talking to you!”

Ido cried out in pain. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He clutched his head in his hands. “Boss, I found a blood trail. Tracks that vanished into a bluehole. I think Styzia got her.”

Haode grabbed the boy’s upper arm and yanked him to his feet. “I know. I heard your little discussion.” His eyes widened. “I heard everything.”

“Boss, we can still get her,” said Dakko. “Really. It’s not over yet.”

“That’s what I want to believe. So desperately.” Haode let go of Ido and lowered his head. “I don’t want to die.”

Ido still couldn’t wrap his head around how someone could suffer like this for as long as Haode had and still not want to die. Wouldn’t it be a relief? He wanted to ask, but he was too afraid of being struck again.

Haode squeezed his arm. “Ido?”

Ido put a hand on the man’s wrist. “What is it?”

Haode asked in a small voice, like a scared child. “Do you want me to die?”

“Of course not.” Dakko interrupted. “Why would we?”

“I’m asking Ido.” Some of Haode’s growl returned. “Ido, do you want me to die?”

Ido stiffened. He knew the wrong answer could lead to a broken bone. “No,” he said.

“But?” Haode asked. “If you have more to say, then say it.”

Ido took a deep breath. “But is this living, boss? Is this really better than whatever death will bring?”

“I’ve seen what death brings,” said Haode. His eyes turned from brown to the Ferash Therall’s red, then back to brown. “I can’t let that happen. Not to me, and not to either of you.”

A tear slipped down Ido’s still-inflamed cheek.

Haode let go of him and nodded. “Let’s ask the people what happened. Dakko, scatter our camp. Ido and I will be at the village. You can catch up to us when you’re ready.” He swung his pack over his shoulders.

Ido grabbed his pack and followed Haode. “See you soon, brother.”

“See you.” Dakko set to work scattering the remains of their fire pit.

Ido struggled to keep up with Haode. There were so many tree roots and ice slicks hidden under the snow that he could barely keep his footing. The older warrior stayed far ahead of him and never so much as stumbled. From behind, Haode almost looked like his old self. Confident, composed, and ready for every possible outcome.

They arrived at the tiny village of Felltree as the sun lifted itself farther off the horizon. The trees were sparser, and the sunlight was blindingly bright, even through the snow goggles. Ido squinted and tried to shield his eyes with his hand. Haode wasn’t troubled. He had been through two ascensions while Ido and his brother had only endured one. Not that he wanted another ascension, Ido thought. One had been bad enough. Still, it would have been wonderful to see in daylight without pain.

Felltree had only one path. The homes were tiny cabins, likely none with more than one room. It was dead quiet until a pack of children scurried out of one lodge. Their laughter filled the air. One boy pushed another to the ground. Then the laughter turned to yelling.

“Get back in here!” A woman shouted from the doorway. “Now, or the sabretooth will get you!” She herded them back inside and slammed the door behind them.

Ido caught up to Haode. “Sabretooth?”

“They might not be talking about the cat.” Haode wiped sweat off his forehead. “Ido, go ahead and give her a knock.”

The apparent lack of fear in his boss’s voice startled Ido. He nodded, then ran to the woman’s door and gave a few firm knocks on the splintery old wood.

Inside, he heard the children yell and laugh. The woman scolded them. Thinking he hadn’t been heard the first time, Ido knocked again.

“I’m coming, you impatient cur!” The door swung open. She looked at Ido up and down. “Oh, you’re not – wait, who are you? I’ve never seen you before.”

Ido hoped his eyes didn’t shine too much through the goggles. “I’m sorry, I…”

Haode came up behind him and clapped him on the shoulder. “We don’t mean any trouble, ma’am, but we’re passing through here and have a few questions.”

The woman crossed her arms. “No one ever shows up in Felltree, not until recently at least.” She looked down. “And the most recent passers-through brought nothing but trouble. I’m not interested.” She reached to close the door.

Haode put his foot in the doorway. “Did one of them have white hair?”

“Hell if I know.” She looked over her shoulder to glare at the pack of rowdy children.

Ido glanced at Haode and then back at the woman. “What about a man in a sabretooth mask?”

She stopped. Her eyes widened. “What are you getting at?”

The children fell quiet behind her. Then one started to cry. Ido bit his lip. He felt Haode’s hand tremble on his shoulder.

Haode’s voice, however, showed no fear. “Tell us what happened. Everything. We might be able to help you.”

She gave them a long and wary look, then propped the door to let them in. “Might as well not stand out in the cold, then. What are your names?”

“I’m Haode,” his boss said. “And this is Ido.”

The woman brushed aside a strand of her wiry dark hair. “He your son?”

“He might as well be,” said Haode.

Ido’s heart clenched up at those words. He looked down at the snow-tracked floor and said nothing.

“My name is Pileated Woodpecker,” said the woman. “Everyone calls me Peck, though. I’m the head of this village. Or what’s left of it.” She went over to the crying child and hugged him. “It’s all right, Starling. Shhh.”

Ido watched her comfort the crying boy and wondered what a mother’s hug felt like. He counted seven children in the room and had to ask. “Are they all yours?”

“They might as well be now,” said Peck. “All these little fledglings lost their father a short while ago, when the beasts came to us.” She looked up and her face twisted with rage and grief. “For that girl with the white hair. That devil-child. They murdered our sweet Nana and stole her face. Our entire village guard, all slaughtered. In one night and day I lost a fifth of my people.”

“I’m so sorry,” said Ido. For a split second he imagined losing Dakko or Haode, and the thought alone nearly crushed him.

“Those monsters came from Styzia,” Haode growled. “Do you know if they took that girl?”

Peck shrugged. A girl barely above a toddler tugged at her hair. Peck flinched, then patted the little girl’s head. “What does it matter to you, anyway? We’re no one and we live out in nowhere.” Then her eyes widened again. “Those Ferash Therall. Did they attack you too?”

“Show your eyes, Ido,” Haode instructed.

Ido did as he was told. Peck gasped. The children shrunk away in collective terror at the sight of his red gaze.

“We are Ferash Therall,” said Haode. “Real Ferash Therall.”

Peck spread her arms out to shield the children. “Get out. Now.”

“But we’re not like them,” Ido insisted. He lowered his goggles to cover his eyes again. “We’re as much their victims as you are.”

“Why should I trust you?” Peck snarled. “Your kind have caused my people nothing but agony!”

Ido saw Haode jolt as Peck raised her voice. For a split second, he was afraid his boss would lash out. It surprised him, then, when Haode responded in an almost calm tone. “That makes two of us, then.” He rubbed his eyes. “You don’t have to trust us, but I believe our goals align.”

“And what’s that?” Peck pulled herself away from the children and stood up to glare Haode right in the eyes.

Ido swallowed hard.

Haode took a deep, shuddering breath. “No one can deny us our right to live.” He bared his teeth. “What’s left of your people, any neighboring villages, anyone and everyone who’s ever bled at the hands of those beasts. We’ll show Styzia the meaning of justice.”

Ido shivered. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. But beneath those courageous words was nothing but fear. Fear, savagery, and the desperation of a bear caught in a trap, gnawing at its own foot. For another day of life, no sacrifice was too great. But a vile seed had rooted itself in Ido’s mind.

Whatever kept Haode moving forward on his dead end path, could it truly be called life?