Hundreds dead. Hundreds. She remembered the town of Westbridge. She had walked its streets. She had walked under arches hung with the skins of dead People, but she had also walked past colorfully painted buildings, houses with cheery fires inside, houses with children inside. They were all dead now, their lungs filled with Enrick and Ystervo's poison.

Dunyasha, still wrapped up in her, took her hand. "What do you need right now?" she muttered.

Aysel couldn't answer. She needed Enrick and his father to stop their killing. She needed those people back.

Instead, she held Dunyasha's hand. It was warm and tough as weathered wood, and it comforted her, like a rock in the middle of a rolling river. In the midst of everything around her falling apart, she was safe.

"What are we going to do?" she asked. To her surprise, her voice was not weak and shaky but strong. She held Dunyasha's hand tighter.

"That's why we came to you and your... friend." her father said, wiping tears from his eyes and talking in the same commanding tone as his daughter. He too had locked away his grief. "You were right."

"Or perhaps you weren't," her mother said, eyeing Dunyasha suspiciously. "But even so, you and this Beast may be the best chance we have."

Dunyasha stood, pulling Aysel with her. She raised her chin, the same proud, savvy hunter she had been on the day Aysel had first met her. "I am," she said simply. "And I will help you. You said they were coming here?"

Her father shrugged. "The man who escaped told us that they were marching northeast from Westbridge. They may very well come towards us."

"No," Dunyasha said. "I know where he's going."

"Where?"

"He's going home." She strode forward, towards the crowd of Letters gathered at the woodshed door. They parted for her like birds fleeing a hawk, still frightened by her presence, but they made no moves towards their blades. "Ystervo's force is small; he'll go back to the village to gather more People. I need to get there before he does. I can convince them to join us, I'm sure of it, but only if we get there first."

"We?" Aysel asked.

"Just you and me. No offence, but bringing your whole village would only slow us down."

"And what do we do? Just wait for the Beasts to come?" Aysel's father asked.

"No. Prepare for battle," Dunyasha said. "Ready your weapons and replenish your blood. Gather cloth to cover your faces; it will protect you against the poison, at least for a while. Take those who cannot fight to a safe place."

"And then?"

"Head north into the mountains. We'll find you. Hopefully, we'll have an army behind us."

Aysel caught her eye and asked with a frightened look, What if we don't? What if they don't listen?

"My people will listen," Dunyasha said confidently. "I led them once. With luck, I can lead them again."

"Then we should go," Aysel said. "Quickly."

Dunyasha crouched. "Get on."

"Wait." Aysel turned to her parents. "What about Elkin?"

Her words hung in the cold morning air like mist.

"We can't leave him here," she continued. "We can't leave him all alone."

"She's right." Her mother turned to her father. "One of us has to stay. We can help protect the other sleepers, and the children and elderly who can't fight." She took his hands. "You should stay, Elrel."

"No, you should," he said. "You've lost so much blood over our son. If you shed more in this battle, I... I might lose you. Over these past few days I've worried about losing both our son and our daughter. Stay here. Protect him. Let me know you're safe."

She nodded. "We'll keep you in our prayers."

"And you ours." He turned to the rest of the Letters. "You heard... the Beast. What was its name again?"

"Dunyasha," she said slowly. "And I'm not to be called 'it,' and I'm not to be called a Beast, although we can talk about that once we're all safe."

"Right," he said uncomfortably. "You heard Dunyasha. Start preparing."

The watching crowd dispersed.

"One more thing." Aysel held out her hand. "I'd like my blade back." She looked down at her unshod foot. "And a boot, please."

Her father pulled Aysel's blade from around his neck and held it out to his daughter. It gleamed silver and reddish-brown in the morning sun. "Here," he said. "I... I'm sorry for taking it from you. I just thought that it would keep you safe."

Aysel took it and looped the cord over her head. It settled gently in its familiar position against her, its point just above her belly button. "Thank you. For now, let's just focus on keeping Elkin safe."

He smiled. "We will. I heard what you said about the Ancient Ones guiding you on this quest. I believe you."

"You do?"

"Yes. You may have taken... an unconventional path," he said with a surreptitious glance at Dunyasha. "But They led you home again. They led you to save us, and to save your brother."

Aysel swallowed. "Father... we may not be able to help Elkin. Dunyasha doesn't know how counteract the poison. There... there may not be a cure." The words came out as thickly as sap, and just as bitterly.

His dark eyes flickered with uncertainty before the hope grew in them again. "He is in the Ancient Ones' hands. Even if Dunyasha cannot help him, he will persevere."

"Well..." Dunyasha said.

"What?" Aysel and her father asked at the same time.

She help up her hands. "Don't get your hopes up. It's true that I have no idea how to heal your brother, and I'm sorry for that. But Elkin or Ystervo might. It's possible that if they know how the poison works, they know how to fix it."

Aysel's eyes widened. "Do you really think so?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. They may have as little idea as I do. But if we can capture them and convince them to help him..."

"It's another chance," Aysel finished. She looked towards her family's cabin, nestled in between mounds of snow. "I want to see him. I mean, I've already seen him, but I want to properly sit down and hold his hand, and tell him I missed him, and tell him he'll be awake soon."

Her father put a hand on her shoulder. "I think he would like that."

"I think so too." The two set off across the trodden-down snowy path, but Dunyasha remained where she was. Aysel turned back, then nodded her head in an invitation.

Dunyasha waved a hand. "You go ahead and spend time with your family. I'll wash up," she said, gesturing down at her bloody and torn clothes.

"I'll be back soon. We need to hurry," she said, but her heart was filled with joy and hope. There was another chance.

Her father pushed open the door to their cabin. "We can get you a boot, while you're here," he chuckled. "How did that happen, anyway?"

Aysel thought back. She realized she had lost it freeing herself from the binding circle she had stupidly stumbled into. She explained and her father laughed and put a hand over his eyes. "Oh, Aysel. Resourceful way to escape, but you could have avoided it by not walking into it in the first place!"

Aysel laughed back. It was good to be home, to hear her father's booming laugh again. It had been so long since she heard him laugh, or even seen him smile. He hadn't done much but pray since Elkin had gotten sick.

At the sound of laughter, her mother looked up from where she had been resting her face on Elkin's bed. Her eyes were still tired, but she managed a wavering smile. Something about it was not quite right, but her voice was sincere when she said, "It's so good to have you home, Aysel."

"It's good to be home," she replied. And it was. Even though the morning sunlight illuminated a room filled with blood and sickness, she was happy to be back, and she was happy when her mother stood, walked over, and flung herself into her arms.

"I didn't get a chance to hug you," she whispered in her ear. "Oh, my sweet Aysel. My baby. You've come home."

"Of course," she said, snuggling into her mother's comforting shoulder. She could feel her shaking. "Are you okay?"

Her mother pulled her face away, and Aysel was shocked to see it was flooded with tears. "I thought you might not come home," she said, lips trembling.

Behind her, her father planted a kiss on the top of her head. "It's true. You were gone without a trace but the missing trophies. I thought..." He swallowed hard. "I couldn't bear the thought of losing both my children."

"But you won't," she said, leaning back against him. "I'm home. And once we defeat Enrick and Ystervo, Elkin will wake up. I just know it." The thought pulsed as strongly as her heartbeat in her veins, something she knew innately as she knew herself. With every thud of her heart, she felt more sure that Elkin would wake. The holy candle on his bedside seemed to wink at her.

Her father wrapped his arms around his daughter and wife. "The rivers of the Ancients are strong indeed. The currents always pull us home."

"After all this is over, you need to come home." Her mother's voice was quiet as the distant voices preparing for battle.

"Of course we will, mother."

She shook her head. "You can't know that." She took a shaky breath. "I want you to stay."

"Stay?" Aysel said slowly.

"Stay here instead of going to fight."

Her father pulled away from the hug. "I thought Aysel was going off somewhere with that Beast? Doesn't she need to do that?"

"Don't call her a Beast, please," Aysel muttered. "But yes, I need to do that."

"It doesn't matter," her mother said. "Let someone else do it."

"It has to be me, mother. I may be the only one who can convince Dunyasha's people to fight with us." If they listen.

"Just... I don't want you to leave again. I want you to stay here, where you're safe." She looked up at her husband. "Both of you. Elrel, I need you safe."

He reached out a hand and touched her face, wiping away a tear with the same gentleness Dunyasha showed Aysel. "You know I have to go."

"So we can all be safe," she murmured. "Yes. I do. It's just..." she pressed his hand against her cheek, closing her eyes. Two more tears slipped out. "We're all here, together. Both of my children are in the same place again. Elkin and Aysel, together like they always are." She smiled sadly. "Ever since you were born, he was by your side, following you, making sure you didn't get hurt. He was such a good big brother. He loved you so much."

"Loves," Aysel corrected gently. "Even if he is asleep, he still loves me. And we'll find a way to wake him up, once we defeat Enrick and his father in battle." She placed a hand on her mother's shoulder. "I know we will."

Her mother's face did not move, but her eyes opened. Their dark brown depths were the same color as hers, as Elkin's, and she knew them well. She could see the pain in them.

"Mother, it will all work out," she said. She looked at the flickering candle. "The Ancient Ones sent me on this journey; I can feel it. It is Their will that Elkin live. Their rivers flow strong in him." She looked towards his sleeping face, hollowed but peaceful in the golden light. "They put me on this path. I am sure that They will help me find the end. And at the end, he will be there." She straightened up. "I have to fight, to protect him and the others our enemies wish to harm. I can't stay."

"Please," her mother whispered. She had lowered her head, letting her face be hidden by a curtain of tangled auburn curls. "Don't leave me here alone."

"You won't be alone, dear heart. You have Elkin," her father said. "Or did you want me to stay with him instead?"

"No!" she screamed. "No..." she whispered. Her body shook in Elrel's arms like a young river gold in the wind. Aysel stepped back. She had never seen her mother like this before, and it scared her. It scared her more than she could understand.

"You don't want me to stay?" her father asked.

She shook harder, pressing her forehead into his chest and clutching the back of his tunic with shaking hands. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out but quiet gasps and whimpers.

Aysel's mouth was dry, her own hands trembling. Her breath was fluttery in her throat; it didn't seem to reach her lungs. "Mother?" she asked.

"Talk to me, Aydin, please!" her father begged.

And her mother screamed between sobs, "I-- don't-- have him!"

The world fell silent, as if it had quieted only so Aysel could hear her mother's quiet, choked next words.

"I don't have him. Elkin is dead."

And Aysel's world ended.

She vaguely realized that she was on the ground, but she couldn't feel her body. She couldn't feel anything but shock, but the force telling her no, no, Elkin couldn't be dead, Elkin had to live, Elkin was going to live--

Her father was at Elkin's bed, shaking his son's body, shouting something she couldn't hear. Aysel saw through unfocused eyes the way he flopped around like a doll, as if every part of him was as limp as a freshly caught rabbit. She saw the glaze over his once-beautiful brown eyes.

She vomited. The elg meat that Dunyasha had caught for her came up, along with yellowish bile that splattered on the bloody floor. She watched the contents of her stomach pour out of her but felt nothing, as if she was watching her body retch through someone else's eyes.

Ancients, his empty eyes.

Aysel raised her head. "No!" she said, a string of saliva flying from her mouth. She didn't care. "He can't be! He can't be!"

Her mother's face was tight with pain. "He held on so long," she whispered. "But when I came back from the woodshed, he was gone. He died alone. My sweet baby. My brave boy. Gone."

Gone.

"No!" she screamed again. She forced herself upright and stumbled on legs she couldn't feel to the family's altar, covered in thousands of blood sacrifices to the Ancient Ones for Elkin's life. "He has to live! It's Their plan! He's supposed to live!"

Her mother wept silently, a hand on her mouth, her eyes on her screaming daughter. Her father clutched his son and shook, face crumbled in like a hollow tree.

It was the sight of her father's broken face and shaking shoulders that snapped the thin thread of hope onto which she had been clinging. He was always the one ready with a prayer or words of faith. Now he said nothing but Elkin's name, over and over, as if he could call him back from the dead.

Dead. Elkin was dead.

Aysel kicked over the altar. It fell to the ground, scattering the unlit candles and dried flowers that rested upon it, smashing the clay offering bowl against the ground. She stomped on the shards. Tears flew from her eyes.

"Aysel, stop!" It was her father. Elkin lay still in his arms.

"No!" she shouted. She kicked the overturned table, and the wood groaned against the force. "They let him die!" She kicked it again, cracking the wood. It sounded like a bone breaking. "They sent me on this stupid quest, and They still let him die!"

A soft hand touched her shoulder. "Aysel, please. Elkin... Elkin wouldn't want us to fight."

Her rage dropped. Her mother was right. Kind Elkin, who always hated raised voices, who always rose his voice only in laugher and song, wouldn't want this.

She looked at him, slumped in her father's arms. He didn't look like her brother. Where were his shining black eyes, his wide, friendly smile? Where were his full cheeks, his wild curls, his booming laugh that rang out so full of sincere joy that everyone who heard it felt it in their hearts?

They were gone. He was gone.

She walked to his body. His eyes stared up through her, past her, into nothingness. She put one trembling finger on each eyelid and slid them closed, hiding his dark eyes forever. It looked as though he were asleep again, but not the sickness sleep he had been trapped in for cycles and cycles. No, he looked almost peaceful. She reached down and brushed away that curl that kept falling over his forehead, tucking it back into his hair. Her hand rested against his forehead for a moment, but she pulled it away. She couldn't bear to touch him and feel no heartbeat.

At her side, her father exhaled as he watched his his children. He didn't look up, but kept a hand over his face, as if to shield his daughter from the sight of his tears. She put a hand on his shoulder and he grasped onto it, clutching it tight as if he would never let go. "I'm thankful," he said.

"What?" Her voice was husky with grief.

"I still have you."

"Aysel," he mother said. "If you leave again, we don't know that you'll come back. Please, stay. Stay. Help me prepare your brother to pass on. Say the prayers at my side."

Aysel turned to her. Her lip trembled. "I can't."

Her mother opened her arms, and she threw herself into them and cried. She had cried more times than she could count in the past few days, but this was the first time she had let herself truly cry, let her throat make agonized noises, let her nose drip, let her tears flow until they dried. All the while, her mother held her tightly, comforting herself by comforting her daughter. "My sweet Aysel," she whispered over and over again. "My baby."

When she could cry no more, Aysel raised her head. "I love you."

"I love you too. So much. So much."

"But I can't stay."

She nodded. "I understand."

"I will stay," her father said. His voice was rough but sure. "The people of this village are strong enough to fight and understanding enough to let me stay for my son." He walked forward and wrapped his arms around Aysel and Aydin. "We will help him pass on. We know the prayers. We will help his blood join the endless river. And once he is safe, we will join you."

"Join me?" Aysel asked.

"Yes." Her mother's lips still trembled, but her eyes were bright and commanding. "We cannot allow those who did this to our son to get away with it. We will not allow them to hurt anyone ever again."

"You should go," her father said. "Go now. We'll see you soon."

Aysel slipped on a boot from beside the door. It seemed so insignificant now, whether or not she was cold, now that Elkin was gone. But she had a mission again. She had lives to save.

She walked back outside.

Dunyasha was waiting for her where she had left her, leaning against the side of the woodshed they had been imprisoned in just hours ago. Her face slipped into its familiar, curling smile when she saw Aysel approach.

"You found a boot! Good. Letters can't go barefoot in the snow like we can, and I was worried..." she trailed off. She had noticed Aysel's tears. "Sad about leaving home? We'll be back soon."

She shook her head. She realized she hadn't said the words aloud yet, but she forced them out. It hurt more than a blade plunging into her flesh. "Elkin is dead." She tried to keep the waver out of her voice, tried to leave her tears back in her cabin, but it didn't work.

Dunyasha caught her in a tight embrace. She said nothing, but the feel of her arms around Aysel was more comforting than anything she could ever say.

Aysel fought to keep her tears inside, but she couldn't help herself. They slipped out, and burned hot on her frozen cheeks. She wiped them away on Dunyasha's shoulder; she didn't want her to see her cry again. She felt like she was always crying. Of course, lately there'd been more than enough to cry about. But Dunyasha kept her face turned away from Aysel as she cried, as if she knew these tears were private. This pain was hers and her family's alone.

When she had composed herself, she raised her head. "We should leave now."

"Are you sure you're ready?"

She nodded.

Dunyasha crouched. "Then hop on. Let's build an army."