Aysel gasped as the spear flew through the air. The throw was strong, but Dunyasha was fast; she turned her own spear sideways and knocked the projectile out of the air with a sharp crack that echoed through the snowy wood.

At the sound, their attacker turned and ran away from them into the thick trees. "He's running away?" Aysel said, confused.

"Then we need to catch him," Dunyasha said, dashing forward after him. "He's going to tell the others I brought a Letter, and then they'll want to kill us too. We need to stop him!"

Aysel followed after her, plunging into the deep snow, but it wasn't long before Dunyasha circled around and scooped her up from behind. Aysel squeaked like a lemming as she felt herself behind thrown head over heels onto Dunyasha's back. "Sorry for not asking!" Dunyasha said as they ran; "But it's faster this way!"

She had to agree; Dunyasha on all fours was faster than Aysel could ever run on two. She was more prepared for the bumpy, terrifying, unbalanced ride and no longer felt in constant danger of flying off. That she could actually see the trees rushing past this time thanks to the rising sun helped make it a bit less frightening as well. But as fast as she ran, there was no sign of the person they were chasing; even his footprints blended in with those of the battle from earlier.

"Damn! I think we lost him," Dunyasha said, slowing to a halt. She let Aysel slide off her back. "He'll tell whoever's still alive up there that we're coming," she said with a nod at the big pine— Aysel noticed it had stopped smoking— "and they'll kill us as soon as see us."

"I don't think so." Aysel grabbed her arm and pulled her into the nearest tree's needles. Dunyasha started at Aysel's hands suddenly on her arm, but allowed herself to be led into the prickly interior of one of the snow pines that thrived in this small mountain valley. "Hush," Aysel whispered.

"Why? What did you hear that I didn't?"

"Not hear. See. No more smoke, and there's fresh blood in one of the sets of bootprints. The People don't wear boots, right?"

Dunyasha grinned. "That's pretty clever, Aysel," she whispered in her ear.

Aysel glared up at her; she didn't want compliments from a murderer. She would have backed up, but she was trapped between Dunyasha and the spiky, sappy trunk of the tree. "Shh."

Not far in the distance, someone shouted out in fear or pain. Yells rang out through the frigid forest, then silence, and then, inexplicably, laughter.

Aysel tilted her head, trying to understand the voices. "One hit and it was down!" someone laughed. "This used to be considered an honor, remember?"

"Now it's just too easy to be anything more than a chore," someone else complained. "Besides, all the tough ones went early on."

"And we didn't even get a good fight earlier; the only things holding out in that Ancients-forsaken tree were only their young and their weaklings."

"I was hoping for a big final stand like with those Beasts a few cycles ago, the ones we cornered in their cave. Remember?"

A moment later, dozens of people in red cloaks broke through the trees. Behind them they each dragged several People, none of them moving and all of them bloodied. A strange feeling ran through Aysel's chest; the corpse closest to her used to be the person they were chasing. He wouldn't be telling anyone anything now.

"Take these ones back with the rest, right?" one of the women dragging them asked.

"Back to camp. No use trying to make trophies out here," a man answered. "The cuts will be rough and we'll make them even uglier than they were before."

The group erupted into laughter again. They obviously weren't worried about being quiet. Their shouts rang loudly in Aysel's ears as they walked past the tree where she and Dunyasha hid.

Beside her, Dunyasha stiffened. It took Aysel a moment to notice why: one of the People being dragged along the ground was wearing a torn and bloody but very familiar silky fur cloak with gold fastenings.

Aysel's heart froze. Was it Enrick? She couldn't see the person's face from her position, only their hood. If it was him, her plans of saving her brother were as dead as he was. She doubted Dunyasha, cold-blooded killer of children, would be likely to help her even if coerced. She longed to ask if it was him, but the Letters were so close now she could count the stitches of the embroidery on their cloaks. Even a whisper would be heard. If only she had a way to speak without speaking!

Then she remembered that she did. She slowly and silently pulled her blade from its sheath. Dunyasha put a hand on her shoulder, but Aysel held up a finger to stop her; she knew what she was doing. She pushed up one of her sleeves, nicked her wrist, and dabbed her finger in the blood. On her forearm she smearily wrote out the symbols: Enrick.

Behind her Dunyasha nodded.

Aysel dipped her finger into blood again. Dead.

This time, Dunyasha shook her head.

She let out a quiet sigh of relief. She had no love for Enrick-- just the contrary, in fact— but he was currently the only chance to save Elkin's life. She needed him alive.

The Letters passed them, laughing and joking the whole while. Dunyasha waited until they were out of sight and earshot before saying, "Some of them, including Enrick, were still breathing. We need to get him back."

"Yes, we do," Aysel agreed. "And soon. They were talking about making trophies."

Blood drained from Dunyasha's face, turning it an even grayer shade of sallow brown. "They're going to skin him," she whispered. "This is all my fault. I should have gone with him!"

Aysel pushed past Dunyasha, trying not to look her in the eye. She didn't like to see her question herself. It made it harder to remember that she enjoyed killing Letters as much as Aysel enjoyed her father's rabbit stew. "I thought you didn't like him."

"I don't. I think he's arrogant, flighty, idiotic, and a woefully inept leader. But despite all that I love him. He's my cousin, Aysel, and when we were young we were close as siblings. It's my responsibility to keep him alive, so we're going to do what we have to do to save him. And you're going to help me," she said, poking Aysel in the stomach with the butt of her spear. She was back to her harsh, confident self. "There must be some reason you're so concerned about his well-being; it's certainly not because you like his personality."

No. Her reason was far more important. "Then let's go. They said something about a camp, right?"

Dunyasha wrinkled her nose. "Sometimes when Letters raid they set up hunting camps. It's where they bring their prey to be... processed. It'll be guarded heavily, and protected by a circle. Can't be far from here."

"How do you know this?" Aysel asked. She herself had no knowledge of what happened during Beast hunts, as she had been too young for the only one in her village that had happened in her lifetime. She remembered the celebration afterwards, though. It had lasted for days.

Dunyasha fixed her with a cold stare. "Because I've been in one before. Trust me, a hunt isn't as much fun when you're the prey."

"You're not prey," Aysel said. You hunt us, she wanted to add, but but her tongue.

"Not prey? Did those dead people look much like predators to you?" Dunyasha asked. She had seemed to guess what Aysel had been thinking. "Get the idea that we're vicious beasts who kill your people out of your mind and see the truth for yourself. You kill us. We kill you. You kill us. And the cycle continues. It's not as one-sided as you were taught."

"You don't know what I was taught." She pulled down her sleeve where she had written the silent message for Dunyasha and started following the hunters' tracks.

"Based on the way all Letters hate and fear us and keep our skins in the middle of their homes, I can guess," Dunyasha said, following her.

"And I suppose you were taught 'the truth' you keep talking about," Aysel said, quickening her pace to keep ahead of Dunyasha.

"I was taught that Letters were mindless killers possessed by a spirit of evil so violent that they needed to hurt even themselves. I was taught that their blood was made of fire and their hearts ice, and that they lived only to bring death. I was taught that their minds were too filled with bloodlust to be capable of reason, mercy, or love, and that all they cared about was their next kill." She smirked as she overtook Aysel. "Sounds familiar, doesn't it?"

Aysel's mouth had fallen open. "But... that's..."

"Similar to what you thought about 'Beasts,' and just as untrue. I know. Funny how that works, huh?"

"But you don't think that now?"

Dunyasha snorted. "If I still thought you were the embodiment of evil I wouldn't be walking next to you, would I? No, I learned a little more and changed my mind."

"Why?"

Dunyasha smiled again. Aysel was still getting used to reading her very different face, but she thought she looked sad as well. "A child."

"You had a ba—?"

"We're close," Dunyasha announced in her low but powerful voice, looking down at the ground. Aysel followed her gaze and saw that the footprints they had been following met up with other tracks. Boots, snowshoes, and sledge runners had trampled the snow down into a muddy, icy pulp.

"Do we have a plan for this one?" Aysel asked.

"Let's make one. What do we know?"

Aysel started simple. "We know Enirck is tied up, unconscious, and probably injured along with a bunch of other People. We know that soon they're going to be killed and flayed. We need to get him out before that happens."

"And the others as well," Dunyasha added. Aysel nodded her agreement; even though she still feared the and their sharp teeth, Aysel could see now that the People weren't just vicious animals who deserved to be skinned and displayed. "We know that they're going to be guarded, and that there will be a binding circle around the camp, and probably another around Enrick."

"But I can break those."

"And as soon as you do, they'll know we're there and kill us. Even if we wait to break the circles, they'll see me, a loose Beast, and kill us. And even if they don't see me, someone is bound to notice us freeing Enrick and the others and kill us." She sighed. "Great plan. Wonderful chances."

Aysel furrowed her brow. "What if they don't see you?"

Dunyasha gestured down at herself. "Aysel, I'm not exactly inconspicuous. If they don't think I'm a Beast, they'll think I'm a bear."

"What if you don't come?"

Dunyasha's eyes narrowed. "Out of the question. I'm not letting you go in alone."

Aysel stared steelily back. "I'm not going to run. If I wanted to, I would have attacked you as soon as Enrick had left us alone."

She shook her head. "I know Enrick has some hold over you as well. Like me, for whatever reason, you need him. No, I don't want you to go alone because it's dangerous, Aysel! They'll kill you if they find you out!"

The concern in her yellowish eyes made Aysel uneasy, but she brushed it off. "That's why I'll need a distraction. I need you to draw most of them away once I'm inside so I'll be dealing with five Letters instead of fifty. I'm sure I can talk my way out."

Dunyasha moaned. "You mean this plan relies on your ability to lie?"

"Kind of."

She closed her eyes. "If Enrick dies, that will be on my hands. But if you die, Aysel, that is no one's fault but yours. Got it?" she asked fiercely.

"Got it. And I won't die."

"Yeah? Don't bet your life on it," Dunyasha muttered. And with that, she had disappeared into the trees. For the first time in days, Aysel was alone.

The temptation to run beckoned her at once, but her desire to save her brother was much stronger. In order to save him, she'd have to save Enrick, and so save him she would. She could not fail.

She started by taking off some of the clothes Dunyasha had given her. Off came the long fur overcoat and hood, the hide inner jacket, the fur-lined tunic, and the stitched hide trousers. It left her in a colder but obviously Letter ensemble: her long-sleeved red undershirt, grayish-brown woolen pants, knee-high, sturdy leather boots, a red scarf her mother had knit, and fur-lined gloves. She pulled her hair over her shoulders both to warm her ears and show it off; she needed to blend in as much as possible, and to do that, she needed to look like a Letter. With a small pang she realized that she had never worn her own clothes like a disguise before, but she brushed it aside and strode forward, following the tracks. The only thing that mattered now was saving Enrick so she could save Elkin.

It wasn't long before she reached the first circle. Like the one that had circled the massive pines where the People had made their last stand, it was huge, and stretched far off into the distance. Aysel stepped over it with no problem. Circles always let you in, but unless you were a Letter, they never let you out again. She kept walking.

Sounds of speech and movement started to fill the air. Aysel took a deep breath; she was close. She pushed back some pine branches blocking her view—

Aysel froze. For a moment it seemed as though she had stepped into her own childhood. Joyful shouts and laughter rang out from every mouth, and the air was filled with the savory smells of meat and hardy root vegetables sizzling over blood-fed fires. Chants of devotion and prayers of thanks hummed in the background like the drone of insects on a summer's day. Somewhere in the distance a woman sang of the great Ancient Ones and Their powerful gift of blood. It was a hunting celebration, exactly the way as she remembered.

She snapped back to the present once she noticed the makeshift tents and the way everyone passed her had bandaged arms, and remembered that the reason for this celebration was the upcoming death of the person who had promised to save her brother's life. She shook herself, praying her thanks that no one had seen her looking so awestruck. She needed to blend in, and while everyone was happy, no one was shocked. She stretched her face into what she hoped looked like a cheery smile. In reality, it felt like a grimace.

She wandered through the tents, smiling at everyone she met while she looked for Enrick and the others. Was he already dead? Was his skin already stretched out to dry somewhere? She hoped Dunyasha would hurry; if there weren't all these people around, she could stop pretending to be relaxed and search more efficiently.

As if the thought itself had triggered Dunyasha's action, a shout rang out from somewhere behind her. "Beasts! They're attacking again!"

The crowd around her gasped. "What's happening?" The young woman next to her asked.

"The Beasts called reinforcements. One of our scouts saw them gathering by the big tree and yelled for help! She said there were at least forty of them!" the man shouted back. Aysel smiled; this was surely Dunyasha's work. "Take up your blades, and may the Ancient Ones bless our blood wherever it may fall!"

The crowd roared in response and charged off. Aysel followed with them for a bit but soon dropped behind. The camp was now deserted except for an older man stirring a stew pot and a young warrior who had slipped away from the rest of the group and now seemed to be praying forgiveness for his desertion.

Aysel wasted no time, and took off running. She checked every tent she came across, ripping back the stretched hide entrances to see if Enrick was inside. She turned onto the next row of tents.

Instead of more tents, there was an open square of snow and dirt. In the center a large, dark crimson wooden table had been placed, draped at one end with thick brownish cloth. Standing next to it was a woman in a long red and white cloak, her feet buried in...

Aysel's eyes widened. At her feet were dozens and dozens of People, both unmoving and struggling. She realized the table was red because it dripped with their blood. And the "cloth" at the end of the table...

She turned away, hand over her mouth. She had walked beneath skins nearly every day of her life, but now, seeing them piled fresh and raw on the table, knowing their owners were dead underneath, made her sick. Or maybe it was because the people those skins had come from weren't "it" anymore.

She forced herself to look back. Another of the People had been hauled up and tied down to the table. The woman raised her crisscrossed wrist above the bound figure and drew out a dagger-sized spike. It hovered obediently, waiting for her command. The victim writhed beneath it, futilely trying to escape. It was now or never. Aysel had no choice but to act.

And so at the moment the woman brought her spike down towards the neck of the prisoner, Aysel sent her own straight into the woman's heart.