On the night of Abel's sixteenth birthday, the boy lay awake, miserable and ill. He scooted away from the fire-they had managed to find a forest not completely frozen over, and Eve had done the rest-then closer again. His veins burned, but his skin felt icy, and he shivered uncontrollably. Every few minutes, a sharp pain sliced through him, wracking his body. He curled himself into a knot one moment, only to throw his arms wide the next. He could feel every grain of the dirt beneath him, hear every sound, see every movement. It was overwhelming. It was going to drive him mad.

Let it end, let it end, he chanted in his mind, but it didn't end. He rolled onto his stomach and looked silently at Cain and Eve, begging them wordlessly for help, but they were fast asleep, contented and oblivious.

Tears leaked from Abel's eyes, and when he wiped them away, he found to his horror that they were red and bloody on his fingers. Without thought, he licked his fingers quickly, cleansing them of blood. He stopped almost immediately, horrified, and then licked again, unable to help himself.

There was a terrible pain in his mouth. His gums were ripping open. He was dying. He must be dying.

And then, abruptly, everything seemed to stop and coalesce into a moment of perfect clarity. His senses were still overly strong, and there was still pain, but he no longer cared. The entirety of his mind was focused on one thing, filtered through a red haze.

Abel flowed to his feet in a single movement, turning his head sharply. He padded forward silently, whisking past trees as quickly and silently as a jaguar. He was no longer a clumsy human. He was no longer thinking or feeling. He was the hunt. He was the hunter. And part of him understood that if he hadn't scented this prey, he would have turned on those nearer to hand-on his companions.

There! In the undergrowth. A deer, shaggy-haired to endure the weather, eyes wide. It saw him flowing toward it and its tail rose. In a moment, it was leaping away, faster than a grown man could run.

But Abel was faster still. He was little more than a blur as he sped on and grabbed the deer in his arms, bearing it to the ground, his teeth already plunging into its neck.

The deer was dead when he pulled himself away from it. He felt engorged, his veins swelling with blood not his own. His mind was back, and he wiped his mouth and chin and chest with loathing, but he could not get the blood off. Fat and sated, he waddled to a nearby stream and rinsed himself before falling on its bank in a doze.

When he woke, he sped back to came as fleetly as the deer might once have.

The deer had been the first animal he had killed in a very long time. But he knew it was only the first in a long line. He didn't know, yet, how long it would be until the need drove him to kill again, but he did know it would come

And he knew, finally, what the gift of a fire dragon's blood really meant. In a little under a year, Cain would know as well. Before that happened, he had to figure out how to protect his little brother.

***

Abel dreamed, and saw himself when he was barely a year old, content in his mother's arms. A woman approached, carrying a newborn, and Abel knew immediately who it was.

I'm dreaming, Abel thought. It was a strange feeling, to watch himself as he had been, like he was a spectator rather than the person who had lived this memory. There were that he hadn't recalled until now. The way the cave ceiling was darkened with soot, the way the smoky firelight played off the red-painted face of the midwife. He could smell the sharp, floral scent of something besides regular wood in the fire, and underneath it all a faintly sweet, metallic smell. That smell he focused on-it was subtle, but at the same time so thick it seemed to settle into his nose and mouth, coating his throat. He forced himself to look instead at his brother in the midwife's arms.

Cain was so small and frail. The elders thought it was because they were born so close together, when Iris's body had not yet completely recovered. Indeed she, too, looked sickly, but the smile on her lips and the light in her eyes told the older Abel that she was happy. He hadn't seen his mother's face so clearly in a long time-there hadn't been much time for memories while traveling. His throat tightened, but his astral body could not cry. Only watch.

Jaco took Cain from the woman and sat beside Iris, smiling proudly at the wife who'd fought hard to deliver her son into the world and survived. Young Abel stirred, gazing curiously into Iris's eyes, and hearing Cain's faint cry, looked around as if in search for the source. Iris smiled and lifted Abel gently so he could see Cain in his father's arms.
There came a scratch at the leather screen that provided them privacy, and the woman who had helped deliver Cain scurried out. In his place came a tall, forbidding figure that Abel instantly recognized as the shaman. Reluctantly, Jaco pulled the swaddling clothes from the tiny, frail infant and allowed the shaman to inspect him.

"The babe will not live to see his first sevenday," the shaman announced after a quick look over the tiny infant. Even though the baby clearly protested being taken out of his warm nest, he didn't have the strength to do more than whimper in protest. The shaman turned to leave, but looked back over his shoulder with more sympathy than Abel would have thought he was capable of. "Jaco, take him to the wood. It will only be harder when the spirits take him if you allow him to nurse."

Jaco scowled at the shaman's back as he left and quickly swaddled Cain in the soft leather blanket again. Iris looked stricken, and somehow Abel could feel her hold on his younger self loosening despite the fact that he was a spectator in this dream. Jaco moved over close to her and put one of his arms around her shoulders, pressing his lips against her temple.
"He'll live, my love. Have hope."

Iris's face lit with hope and determination of her own, and she turned to her elder son. "Abel, this is your younger, brother, Cain," Iris whispered gently. "He's not quite as strong as you are, so you have to look out for him. But don't smother him; he must also be free."

***

Two months passed, and Eve was not as oblivious as Abel believed to his nighttime departures. One evening, after Abel had gone for a walk (or so he said), Eve told Cain casually, "I'm going to go scavenge something to eat. I won't be long."

"Okay, Eve. I think I'll just take a nap," he said. She knew how tired he was. He was always tired, lately. Not enough food and too much walking. This couldn't continue indefinitely. The idea had been growing in her mind, and she knew it was almost time: they would have to find Amos and put a stop to this before he put a stop to them.

Eve stood up and ran her hands through her nearly matted red hair. She could only imagine what she looked like. Wild and unkempt, she figured. With one final glance down at Cain to make sure he would be okay alone, Eve stepped towards the forest just a little to the right of where Abel had gone in. She twisted her neck slightly to the left and the right and shook her hands lightly, transforming into her dragon shape. She gazed at the world in front of her, conscious of her own invisibility and relishing the shelter her powers provided.

Eve kicked off the ground gently and flew until she could glide high above the tree canopy. She focused her powers on her ability to see through dense and frozen coverage until she could see Abel walking swiftly towards the center of the forest.

Eve watched Abel stop in a clearing, intense and alert. His eyes were closed in concentration, his nose in the air, nostrils flaring as he sniffed the night air. Then, with a speed far beyond what Eve had ever seen in a human, he began running. She flapped desperately to keep up with him, only for him to stop abruptly.

As quietly as she could, Eve folded her wings and landed lightly in a nearby tree, shrinking herself so as not to overburden it. She leaned down, watching keenly. Abel had his arms around an enormous white wolf, his face was buried in its neck.

Eve inhaled sharply. No. It wasn't possible.

And yet . . . she had heard rumors. Whispers. Warnings why dragons should never give humans their blood.

As Eve quaked, Abel lifted his head and looked directly up at her. His chin and neck were smeared with blood, and the wolf twitched feebly in his arms. He let it go, and it stumbled away, drained but alive.

"Eve," Abel said, his voice eerie and foreign. "I heard you. I hear everything. Did you think you could hide from me?"

Eve decided she had nothing to gain by staying in her tree any longer. There were too many secrets between them. She changed back into human form and climbed down. She landed in front of him with a thud and nearly lost her balance. "I did. I had no idea . . . that is . . . you've changed."

The intensity of his gaze frightened her. Was this really the boy she knew, the one so withdrawn yet displaying his vulnerability so that only she could see it?

"And what do you think? Do you believe it? I know you play with those silly stones," he said, and spat on the ground. The saliva was red with blood. He seemed to hum with anxiety and seemed extremely unsettled.

"How long has this been going on, Abel? Is it Cain as well? Tell me. We are stronger together."

He shook his head roughly. "Come on, let's go," he said.

Eve decided not to push it and followed him through the forest. She had to think on this. If she could, she had to remember.