Spring didn’t ask what had happened to Ascel and Bo had barely known the man that had saved his life. Erik was still weak, the journey back had taken most of his strength and it seemed like he only slowly recovered. Summer was getting better, her colour had returned and she woke a couple of times weak but capable of eating a bit of food.

Over the last months she had lost most of her weight but she looked like she was recovering well.

The scar on her stomach was slowly losing the bright purple colour and while it would probably stay with her for the remainders of her life it could have gone much worse.

In the last couple of days Erik had a strong wish to return to Blackriver and see his friends, the village was empty and the weather was slowly turning for the better as the temperature were slowly rising and the snow in the deeper valley had without a doubt began to smelt.

It would take at least another month before the snowstorms would completely stop and another couple of months before the pass was ready to be crossed but Erik had no intention to wait for that long.

As soon as Summer was capable of travel he would try to cross the path and enter Blackriver territory, they needed a proper bed and a way to wash. While the village might be free of any soldiers and civilians the absence of live was bound to be noticed by somebody.

Summer mumbled something in her sleep and Spring raised her head at the sound of the voice.

Erik watched her sink back into slumber and wondered if he would be sleeping ever again. The voices in his mind had quieted down but sleep still eluded him.

In the distance he could hear the howling of spirits, the death of the village was attracting them like a flame did moths.

Erik was glad he only saw the spirits of animals, he was not sure how he would handle the ghosts of the people he killed.

A whisper had him raise his head, again, he felt like there was someone around yet he failed to see anyone.

Erik got to his feet, another hunt would help distract him, leaving the cave his thoughts returned to Alaric and Cara, like so many times in the recent days.

He changed into the form of a wolf while he walked, the transition was less painful now and almost felt natural to him. As a wolf things seemed more simple, he raised his nose into the air and smelled for prey.

The surrounding area had become void of life, his hunting trips had drained the supply of animals that survived up in the mountains. Then he found something, a faint smell of something familiar.

Erik turned for his new target and began to run towards it, this was unsettling. The smell of humans rarely went as far as this, only large numbers could enhance it.

The world blurred as he ran through the night, he enjoyed the cold air as he dashed through the snow. It took him over two full hours running as fast as he could to get close enough for him to know where the smell was coming from.

In the distance a collection of light lay to the feet of the mountains, the smell originated from there and had been carried up by the wind.

Something was happening in the village, Erik faintly remembered passing it on their way to the ambush, back then there had been less than twenty families living in it, barely managing to survive.

Now, there had to be at least twice that number, another troop of soldiers? If so they would be on their way towards the village by the morrow and had to camp out in the open at least once before reaching the dead.

With haste he ran closer to see if his suspicions were correct, On his way he noticed torches set up around the village, if he stepped closer the enemy would see him.

Then he saw it, a figure in the dark sitting next to the door of the closest building was a small boy. A terrible clawmark covered half of his face, his eyes staring through the dark right at Erik. their eyes met, neither of them blinked as recognition spread on the boy’s face, but instead of the horror or fear Erik expected there was nothing but hate in the blue eyes staring at him.

Something changed as he watched the boy get to his feet, a hand disappearing in his cloak. Shortly after it emerged again a knife grasped in his small hands, his knuckles turned white like the coals in a fire, not burning brightly but hotter than the flames above.

Before the boy could take a step Erik dove back into the shadow, the picture of what he had done rising within him, he finally understood where the war was coming from.

Regardless of which side would win, the remaining people would have the same look in their eyes. Rage beyond reason as their drive they would not stop, just like he could not.

Not now, not after everything he had done for a rebellion he did not truly believe in.

Believe might drive the first line of soldiers but the second would be fueled with rage and loss.

A feeling spread in him, a sense of peace at the thought of this.

He could deal with hate, with anger and rage, he could respond in kind to a challenge like this. Leaving the bigger picture to whoever was in charge in Blackriver he would do what came naturally to him.

Behind him an alarm was sounded and people shouted orders, so the boy was not mute after all.

Erik would need to cross the pass as soon as possible, with the additional soldiers behind him things could only go one way and as Summer felt better they stood a chance to survive the journey if he pulled the sled like he had with Ascel.

As he vanished into the night his thoughts returned to the boy with the scar, he had the feeling that this was not their last meeting.