“Armel, it’s Ryuu.”

Heartless crouched by the door, her iron bar held in her hand as she listened to Ryuu’s footsteps, and then his knock and voice.

Her ears twitched.

When she had heard the door open at the end of the hall, she set herself at the edge of the door with the iron bar, Seren safely behind her in the corner. When she heard the lizard’s steps, she relaxed. When she heard him call for Armel, she wanted to snort in derision.

In the interest of reticence, she held her breath in.

“Yes, Ryuu?” came the sleepy voice of the old stallion. Heartless sat back down.

“I just wanted to talk about how things are going.”

“Oh? Things are fine. Do you want to come in?” Heartless smiled to herself. Imagine a unicorn asking someone to come in. What bullshit. If a unicorn wanted to go in, she would. If a unicorn wanted to keep someone out, she would. And if a unicorn invited someone into her home? She better be ready to defend herself.

“Oh, I don’t want to take up much of your time. I’ll be back later tonight. We might also need your help tomorrow with some moving stuff. Polly is having trouble with some of the tunnels. It might be…well. I’m thinking it might be a good opportunity to show Heartless what she can do around here. It would only be a few hours.”

There was a pause.

“Also, Armel, Zelda has been looking for you. You might want to go talk to her sometime.” Hornclaw sighed.

“Yes, I will talk to her soon.”

Another pause.

“So…does that sound good? Tonight? Just take her and go meet Polly at the entrance. Let Day know she can stay here for that time until you come back. Unter will stay, too, just in case.”

Another pause.

“I will ask,” Hornclaw finally replied.

“Okay, great! I’ll see you tomorrow!” Heartless frowned. His voice was too cheery.

She listened to the footsteps go down the hall. She heard his tail drag on the floor, swishing dirt around. She heard Hornclaw sigh.

He knocked on her slightly ajar door, poking his head in to find her on the floor by his feet.

They stared at each other for a moment.

“I’m not risking my life for your shit,” she said, scowling at him. Hornclaw opened the door more, squatting down to her level.

“You hear everything?”

She snorted, “He wanted me to hear. I’m no fool.” Hornclaw hid a grin.

“No, just short-sighted.” She glared at him.

He sat with her then, on the floor, and traced lines in the debris. His white tail splayed out in the dirt like a spider web. He only had four fingers on one of his hands, the last one was cut off at the knuckle. His coloring was rather bland for a unicorn: mottled browns and grays. His mane was sprinkled with white and black, and he was a bit old for a unicorn.

“I don’t want a mate,” Heartless said, breaking silence. Hornclaw looked up at her, little bit startled.

“I don’t want a mate either,” he replied.

“Why do you share your name?” she asked.

“I do not belong to the tribes anymore.”

Unicorns had two names. One that they were born with and one that they were given upon completion of the naming ritual. Heartless had earned her name. Hornclaw had earned his name. Why discard it? The name was important. It told people what you did and who you were. You had a name to share with others, to spread tales, to make others fear you. The better your name, the more fear you struck, the more authority you had.

She looked at Seren who was sleeping.

He had known her first name. She neglected to ask him, having been bewildered by his presence, the newness of isolation, and the danger of desertion. Seren was on the brink of death, and he knew her name.

Usually, the first name was erased after the naming ritual. No one mentioned it again; it was from a time of weakness.

She turned back to Hornclaw.

“You neglect your achievements. No pride at all. Like a gelding,” she replied, frowning at him.

“I have made my choice. What about you, Heartless?” he asked, “What will you do once you are healed?”

“I am not staying here.”

“No, but where will you go? Anywhere you go, you will be reviled.” She shook her head.

“I have a place. I have no place. It does not matter. I will be where I will be,” she replied, suddenly feeling that darkness rise up in the pit of her stomach.

The Dragon Tribe of Circle.

She took a moment to contemplate the impossibility of her goal.

Hornclaw rubbed at his neck.

“Shall I regale you with the tale of my name?” he asked, setting his hands on his knees. Heartless paused. He was offering something to her. It was a courtesy to tell a naming story. The famously vicious unicorns all had far spread stories of their first conquest. She had never heard of a “Hornclaw.” Probably because he was a deserter.

“Yes. I would like to hear it. And I shall…share mine own,” she replied. Hornclaw nodded.

“Then, in Ragebrood tradition, I will tell you my story.”

--

“Fuck. You seen this?”

“Seen wh- oh shit.”

“Yeah! It’s the Amad brothers! Oh shit. Look! Is this one Asad or Rahad?” he asked, putting his finger inside a mutilated skull and swishing it around.

One side was smashed thoroughly, with pieces of bone falling off with bits of skin, but he could still see the beak hanging off the mouth. The other one didn’t fare much better, and both were rotting and causing a world of stink. The maggots were already feasting.

“We sent them out a few days ago, didn’t we?” he asked the other one.

“Uhhh…fuck if I know. All I know is that we are probably gonna have to tell the boss.”

They contemplated that option.

“So, George, what do you want to do?” George pulled his finger out of the dead gryphon. He wondered what the goop tasted like. Was it sweet? Was it sour?

He licked his finger.

Sour like metal. Not altogether unpleasant.

“I’m hungry,” he replied as he stood up. Patrick grinned at him, baring his pointed teeth.

“Any good?” George sucked on his finger.

“It’s not bad. Not bad at all.”