They set off into the wood, and Aysel once again saw her village disappear in the trees behind her. She remembered the last time she had walked this way. Her heart had been filled with hope and determination to save her brother.

Now it was filled with grief.

It just kept hitting her, like a river crashing against a bend, wearing her down with the realization she would never see her brother again. Never again would she see him smile when she came home from a hunt with a rabbit for dinner, or see him push dripping curls out of his face after a swim in the stream. By the time the trees around them had begun to shift into the jagged rocks of the mountains, her pain had spread through every part of her. With every fall of Dunyasha's feet, his name echoed in her heart, a painful rhythm that would not cease.

Elkin. Elkin. Elkin.

She angrily brushed tears out of her eyes and turned her face into the wind. If they were to stop Enrick and his father, she would need to focus.

But Enrick's name, too, brought tears of anger and betrayal and grief welling up. It was his fault Elkin was dead. His fault, for lying to her over and over and over again, and hers for believing it. She had fallen for his promise of friendship and his honeyed words as easily as a rabbit was lured into a snare, and because of him, Elkin was dead, and she was left with a hatred she didn't know how to hold.

Enrick. Enrick. Enrick.

"You're crying. Are you okay?" Dunyasha asked from underneath her.

Aysel quickly wiped her face with both hands. "Fine."

"No, you're not. Of course you're not. That was a stupid question."

Aysel bit her lip and let the wind dry her eyes again before answering. "There's just... a lot going on right now." Her voice was garbled and thick. "With Elkin, and Enrick, and this battle, and..." She trailed off, the weight of everything pressing down on her lungs like a stone.

Dunyasha twisted her head to the side to look up at her. "I know it seems bad right now, but it's going to be okay."

"What if it's not?"

"It will be. You and me, we're going to be okay."

"Promise?" Aysel asked childishly.

"Promise." She looked around. "We're getting close."

The mountainous rock faces rising around them loomed, as did the prospect of convincing the People to fight alongside Letters, if she could convince them at all. Soon, the fate of her people would be decided. And it all depended on her.

As if she knew what Aysel was thinking, Dunyasha said, "They'll help us if we ask. I know these people. They won't stand by and let Enrick and Ystervo kill so many innocents."

"But will they see us as innocent?" Aysel asked. She remembered the pile of skins tossed beneath a bloodied table. She remembered the way it had felt to take a life. "I'm not even innocent."

"No, Letter," a voice coldly drawled. "You're not."

Dunyasha stopped, and on her back, Aysel froze. She whipped her head around, looking for the source of the voice, but the echo off the rocks made it impossible to find. Her hands twitched upwards towards her blade.

"If you touch that infernal knife of yours, you'll have a spear through your belly before you can blink," another voice rang out. Aysel dropped her hands.

"Get off my back," Dunyasha said in a low voice. "And don't touch your blade."

With her hands raised to the level of her shoulders, Aysel slipped off. Dunyasha stood upright and spread her own hands wide. "Friends. We mean no harm."

"You brought a Letter into our midst, unbound, armed, and you tell us that you mean us no harm?" a third voice asked, bouncing menacingly off the rocks.

"She's safe, I promise. We just want to talk to you," Dunyasha said.

"Talk to us or command us to fight?" a third voice asked.

Dunyasha's brows furrowed. "What?"

And out from the rock, the People emerged. There were about fifteen of them, dressed in heavy furs that shifted in the biting mountain wind. They stared down at Dunyasha and Aysel, their yellow eyes cold and calculating. All held spears. As their gaze passed over Aysel, their grips tightened.

Aysel had to fight the urge not to reach for her blade, but she fought it well, and held still as the stone surrounding them.

"We've seen a lot of old faces today," one of the People said. "You. Ystervo. He warned us you would come."

Aysel's heart fell. They had gotten here first.

Dunyasha's eyes widened, but she kept her voice calm. "And what did he say?"

"He told us of his plan for the liberation of the People. He asked us to join him."

"And did you?"

"Not yet. We're deciding," another said.

"And?"

"The offer of fighting for one who abandoned us and let us be led to our deaths isn't a very good one. Dunyasha, if that is what you came here to ask, leave now."

Dunyasha bowed her head. "After we were attacked, I left, not to abandon you, but because I felt I was no longer fit to lead. I see now that Enrick was not fit to lead either. And I'm sorry." She lowered her head further. "I never should have run. I returned to help Enrick, to pay the debt I owed to him and to you all, but there are more pressing matters. If Enrick continues his plan, the Letters will die. All of them, the good with the bad."

The People around them began to mutter. "Enrick?" one asked finally. "What does Enrick have to do with any of this?"

"He-- he's working with his father," Dunyasha said. "Didn't you know this?"

"Enrick wasn't here when Ystervo and his group came. Enrick hasn't been seen in days, ever since you brought that Letter to him."

Aysel's mind whirred. What had happened to Enrick? Why wasn't he with his father?

But there was no time to worry about that now. The People's spears were pointed at her.

"And you brought a Letter here again. Why, Dunyasha? Haven't you learned by now that they cannot be trusted?"

"But she can," Dunyasha said, stepping forward. "Just hear her out. Please."

The People looked down at her distrustingly, but lowered their spears.

Aysel took this as her cue, and walked into the middle of the path. She looked behind her, and held out her hand. Dunyasha took it. The People raised their eyebrows, but said nothing.

And so Aysel took a deep breath to settle her nerves and shaking hands and began to speak. "I am Aysel, daughter of Aydin and Elrel of Crossing," she started. Her voice sounded painfully weak beneath the howling wind, but she continued. "Cycles ago, Ystervo poisoned my brother. I ran away from my village, seeking one of the People who could cure him. I knew of you only from the stories I had been told, and saw you as monsters and Beasts. When Dunyasha captured me and Enrick forced me to travel with him, this only reinforced my beliefs. But the more time I spent with them-- the more time I spent with Dunyasha-- the more I saw that what I had been taught was wrong. She showed me that."

Aysel glanced back at Dunyasha, who smiled and squeezed her hand.

"As I traveled, I saw the terrible things my people have done to yours, and the damage of this war we're fighting. I learned. I changed. But now Enrick and his father want to do something terrible as well. They want to kill the Letters, all of us, wipe us out. He killed my brother," she said, her voice shaking. "I know I've done nothing to earn it, but I ask for your help in stopping him from killing the rest of my family. It's time for us to fight side by side, rather than against each other. It's time for this war to end."

She stopped. The faces of the People were unreadable.

And then one stepped forward. Aysel's eyes widened-- "No. We will not help you."

"What?" she gasped.

"We won't risk our lives to help the Letters, who have done nothing but slaughter us."

"Please!" Dunyasha rushed forward. "If we don't help them, they'll die."

"I know."

"And you're just going to let them die?" she asked, her voice shaking with rage.

"We won't interfere... for either side."

Dunyasha raised her head. "What?"

"We will not side with you or with Ystervo. This is not our fight. But..." she turned to Aysel. "You're right, Letter. It's time for the war to end, one way or another."

"So help us," Aysel pleaded.

"No. We will not lay down our lives for you, but if you survive this, come back. It's the first time in living memory a Letter has talked to us with respect. We will make sure to listen."

And with a twirl of their fur capes and a signal from the speaker, they were gone, disappeared back into the mountain rock.

Aysel turned to Dunyasha, lips parted in shock, anger, and fear that she could not express in words. Dunyasha's face was pensive, but when she looked at Aysel, she could see that her eyes were stormy and unsure.

"They didn't listen," Aysel said at last. "What now?"

"I... I don't know." Her brows furrowed deeply. "I thought for sure that once they heard you, they would flock to fight by your side."

"But they didn't." Aysel took a breath to calm herself, but it was shaky. "How are we going to survive this without help?"

"We'll find a way."

"Well, we need to figure something out!" Aysel said, her voice higher and harsher than she intended. "Or else my whole family is going to die, not just my brother!" Her face twisted as she struggled to keep her tears back. "Elkin would know what to do. He always knew the right things to say. He could have convinced them."

"Aysel, there was nothing--" Her voice cut off as she sharply raised her head to look at the sky. Aysel followed her gaze. Rising in a dense plume above the mountainous horizon was a thick, gray column of smoke. As Aysel watched, it turned a bright, shocking crimson red. The color of blood. The symbol for Letters.

Aysel turned to Dunyasha. "Ystervo?"

"Must be."

"My people?" Her voice was high and tight as a strip of hide.

"Maybe." She crouched. "Get on. We need to go now."

Aysel obeyed, but as she climbed, she said, "But we don't have an army!"

"We have me." And without any further warning, she leapt. Aysel had to throw her arms around her neck to keep from falling; she was running faster and more wildly than Aysel had ever felt. Through the cloth of her gloves, she could feel the heat pouring off of Dunyasha's skin as she ran. They were fire, a streak of brown and red as she charged through the mountain snow.

The smoke reared up above them as they neared its base, and although there were no signs of the battle yet, Aysel could feel the tension in the frigid air. Her heart began to race, faster even than Dunyasha's pumping legs. Her mind flashed through images of Letters choking on deadly dust, her village in flames, her parents slaughtered as they wept for their son. She heard the cries of her people, begging for an army that Aysel hadn't managed to bring. Her fault again. She felt the guilt and the panic rising up in her, felt her lungs becoming numb and shaky, but no, no, she had to hold herself together, had to be strong enough to fight--

"Aysel! Breathe!" Dunyasha barked.

Aysel sucked in a breath. She didn't realize she had stopped.

"Good. Keep breathing. In and out for me."

She took a few more breaths. Her vision swam as oxygen returned. The air tasted of smoke.

"What do you need from me? Should I stop?"

"No!" she choked out. "Just-- run." Her voice was choppy but the anxiety was already starting to bleed into adrenaline as her instincts kicked in. Her trembling fingers found their way to the hem of her cloak and ripped off a long strip, which she tied around her mouth and nose. It wouldn't protect her forever, but she would last longer against the poison than she would without it.

She prayed that the rest of those who were fighting had done the same. But she would find out soon enough. Would she find a battle... or a massacre?

The air was soon thick with smoke, so thick that it clouded Aysel's eyes with a red haze. She couldn't taste it anymore through the cloth, but in those heavy, warm breaths, she felt something else. It tickled her lungs and drew blue spots across the edges of her vision. They had already released the powder.

Fear gripped her heart, joining in with adrenaline and panic to make it pump even faster. "Where is everyone?" she shouted over the roaring wind that didn't seem to dissipate either the smoke or the poison.

Her question was answered by a spear whirling towards her face.

She flattened herself against Dunyasha's back, and it went whizzing over her head, thudding into the snowy ground.

"Aysel!" Dunyasha yelled, and two more spears came seemingly out of nowhere.

"Duck!" she screamed, but Dunyasha was already running. Aysel clung onto her neck. The ground racing beneath her was covered in footprints and blood.

Dunyasha stopped, breathing heavily. She shrugged Aysel off her back without a word.

"What--" Aysel started, but Dunyasha clapped a hand over her mouth, the other raising a finger to her lips. Aysel quieted, and noticed that aside from the wind, the battleground was eerily silent. Was it over?

Dunyasha tapped her on the shoulder, then pointed down at the snow. Scratched into the white surface were the symbols Dunyasha had taught her what seemed ages ago. Aysel struggled to remember them, but she thought they read: Quiet. Both sides attack with stealth.

Did this mean her people were alive? She quickly drew a line beneath both and looked up at Dunyasha questioningly.

She nodded, then pointed at the ground. Aysel thought at first she was pointing at the symbols, but then noticed why Dunyasha had stopped: they were trapped in a hastily-drawn binding circle. Aysel pulled out her blade and broke it quickly. It really was a stealth game now. Ystervo may have tried to blind the Letters with smoke after his poison failed to work, but they were using that smoke to make it easy to stumble into their traps.

Assuming that they hadn't succumbed to the poison.

Aysel bent down and scrawled into the snow what she hoped were the correct symbols for Must find family. Dunyasha nodded, then scratched a message of her own: Must find uncle.

Aysel looked at her. Split? she wrote. Dunyasha pursed her lips, then flung herself into Aysel's arms. Aysel gasped quietly, then closed her eyes and held her as tightly as she could. She took a deep breath and pulled the cloth covering her lips upwards, freeing them so she could kiss Dunyasha. Her lips were just as sweet and soft as she had been the first time. She still tasted of forest rain.

They stayed like that for a moment, entwined, lips moving together in harmony as the red smoke and eerie silence billowed around them. Dunyasha pulled away, and her lips found her way to Aysel's ear. "Stay safe, my dear one. If you need me, call and I will find you," she breathed quieter than the wind.

Aysel nodded and kissed her one last time-- Ancients, she wished she could have stayed in that kiss forever-- before stepping out of the embrace and into the red smoke. She pulled the cloth down again and took a much-needed breath. Dunyasha faded away behind her. For the first time in days, she was alone.

But was she really alone? All around, dark shapes loomed. Obscured by smoke, trees looked like warriors, snowbanks looked like corpses. Occasionally a scream would ring out from somewhere on the battlefield, or the sound of a spear hitting flesh. She tried to run towards the sounds, but she was sure she was running in circles. For what seemed an eternity, the only signs of life were the sounds of people dying.

Until she nearly walked into a Letter. The smoke was so thick she hadn't seen him, crouching in the snow, blade at the ready. Their eyebrows both raised. Aysel, realizing she was still wearing her elgskin cloak, raised her hands as well to show she meant no harm. The man-- she thought he lived at the south edge of her village, though she couldn't tell with the cloth covering his face-- gave a curt nod. Aysel longed to ask him how the battle was faring, if her parents had arrived, if they were all right, but she knew she couldn't make a sound. She beckoned him closer. The man stood.

A dark shape rose up behind him, too quick for Aysel to call out. Clawed hands wrapped around the Letter man's neck, and with a sickening crack, twisted it. The man's body fell to the snow. Aysel froze. His staring eyes looked so much like Elkin's.

The killer looked down at his victim's body for a moment before bending over, blocking the body from view. There was the sound of leather snapping, and when he stood, he held the man's bloodied blade on a broken cord before tucking it into his fur cloak. A trophy.

Rage seared through Aysel like a wildfire. She raised her own blade--

The killer's yellow eyes met hers.

Aysel drew her blood.

He drew his spear.

Aysel sent a spike of blood rushing forward.

The man leapt and let his spear fly.

Thunk. Crack.

Aysel's blood hit him midair, thudding into his muscular abdomen. He let out a cry of anger and surprise, the look in his eyes changing from hatred and bloodlust to pain. But Aysel barely heard it, because her leg was on fire.

The spear slammed into her knee, tearing flesh and cartilage from bone. She felt it shatter, driving white shards into red muscle, twisting it into a mangled mess of useless joints and tendons. A scream ripped from her lips; the pain was unbearable. She fell to the ground, leg twisting unnaturally beneath her, and screamed again. She bit the cloth over her mouth to keep quiet but kept gasping, sobbing, groaning in the worst pain she had ever felt.

Her right knee was shattered.

And the man was getting up. He clutched the wound in his stomach but got to his feet, his snarl showing off his long, predatory teeth. He reached towards Aysel's face, and her eyes widened as she realized he was going for the cloth, her only protection against the poison.

She tried to call her blood, but the pain filled her mind.

The man ripped the cloth from her face just as Aysel ripped the blade off the cord from around her neck and slammed it into the man's jugular. His eyes widened as he clutched for his neck, yanking out her blade and letting a stream of blood pour onto her where she lay. His eyes bugged as he started to gurgle. Kneeling, he swayed over her before collapsing onto her body.

Agony. A scream tore from her as his limp body twisted the spear, ripping it through the already mutilated tissue and pushing it out of her leg through the side. She sucked in a breath, gasping out of instinct before the realization of what she had done set in.

She quickly grabbed the cloth back again, wrapping it around her mouth and nose, but it was too late. Blue spots flooded her eyes, and her head tipped back, as if every muscle had turned to water. She felt herself settling into the snow, every part of her going numb, the pain fading away as quickly as the red-tinged light.

But no, no! She couldn't go yet! She thought of her parents, how she told her mother she would come back to her. She thought of Dunyasha, who needed her safe.

If you need me, call and I will find you.

And Aysel tried. Her lips formed the shapes, but no sound came out. "Dunyasha," she mouthed beneath the cloth. "Dunyasha..."

All was dark.

"Dunyasha..."

"Aysel?" a familiar voice asked.

But it wasn't Dunyasha.

It was Enrick.