The next morning was bright and sunny, with lazy white clouds and the tree buds dripping leftovers from the night's rain. Kindra woke early and went on patrol, being one of the few uninjured, and fewer sober, warriors. She would be relieved for her naming ceremony that evening, and she was anxious to have it over with.

River.

She liked the name—it sounded powerful and peaceful at the same time. After the past year she was ready for the peaceful part of her name to come out in her. It even sounded a little feminine, which she would have hated at the last naming but didn't mind now. She was a woman, after all, and had found a man to love her. It was better than having a masculine name.

She was contemplating warrior names when someone approached from the mountain side. She gripped her spear tighter and waited silently as they approached.

"Relax," a man's voice said just before he was visible. "It is only me."

"Bryant?" Kindra wasn't sure what else to say as he walked over. He looked tired, but content, not drawn tight with worry or anger like the last time she'd seen him. He was carrying a small bag, which he dropped at his feet as he stopped before her.

"Can I have your spear for a moment?"

"Why?" She took a half-step back in distrust. Kaye wasn’t in danger—he had no reason to use a weapon.

"I need it."

If he tried to attack, Kindra knew she could win, but she didn't like being weaponless near someone with a spear, especially not right now. She glanced at the trees to make sure it wasn't an ambush, but relented and handed the spear over as she realized how ridiculous that was. Bryant couldn't hurt her.

"Thank you," he said and removed his shirt. He reached back with one hand to grab his outstretched wing.

"What are you...wait!"

Kindra tried to grab his hand away, but Bryant made the first cut, grunted in pain and dropped to one knee. He took a few deep breaths as red bloomed across the base of the wing and dripped on the grass. Before she could take the spear from him, he finished the job, gasped and held his wing in his hands so he could look at what he'd done.

"What is wrong with you?” Kindra grabbed the spear from him. "They don't grow back!"

"I know." He dropped it and turned to her, hand out for the spear.

"No. My sister’s going to be so upset that I let you do this. Why would you do this?"

"I have to become Tarrin."

"She loved you as a Faye."

He shook his head. "I cannot live here as a Faye." His eyes pleaded with her while the puddle at his feet grew slowly. He was going to lose a lot of blood if she didn't get him bandaged soon, but she knew that look. He would find another weapon and finish the job.

"Fine. They’re your wings, cut them off if you want." She threw the spear on the ground between them and turned her back, crossing her arms and wincing at his next two exclamations of pain. When he was silent, she grabbed his shirt and pressed it to the freely-bleeding wounds on his shoulder blades.

The tribe was on edge already, and the commotion brought Monk and the High Priestess to the woods. Kaye's eyes grew wide. "What have you done?" She pushed Kindra out of the way and took over to stop the bleeding.

"He did it to himself," Kindra crossed her arms and shook her head.

"I'm Tarrin," Bryant gasped and squeezed his eyes shut. "I can live here now."

Kaye leaned her forehead against his shoulder and sighed. "You didn't have to do this."

"I did."

She shook her head and checked to see if the bleeding had stopped. Blood still welled out of the angry cuts, and she replaced the shirt. "Can you stand? We need to get you bandaged before you lose too much blood."

He nodded and Monk helped him stand before handing Kindra her spear.

"Well," Kindra said and raised her eyebrows, already feeling better for the spear back in her hands. "Now you have a mark like every other man in the tribe. Bryant Conal, proven true in battle, and marked as one of Eoin's own. Welcome to Fie Eoin, Lovebird."