Then Kori’s gone, his racing form disappearing through the trees and into the distance.
Thoren slumps at the corner of my vision, but I’m acutely aware that Skirra stayed where he is.
I’m not holding him. The moment Kori jumped up, he was free to run.
“Go, Skirra,” I whisper urgently, even as Malak swivels toward us and a new arrow forms on his bow, this time pointed at the gray wolf.
Or maybe it’s pointed at me.
Skirra raises his eyes to mine.
I barely make a sound as I speak, stunned by his choice. “Why?”
Why didn’t he run when he had the chance?
His head turns toward Asha before he scooches forward, keeping low to the cart, and he brushes his face against my arm. The blood on his snout has dried, as has the blood splattered across my face and torso and arms and legs…
All the blood.
“Destiny,” I whisper, but my voice is empty.
What will destiny cost me?
Across the way, Malak gives me a hard stare before he points the arrow at my brother instead. “It appears that your wolf will obey you, Vandawolf, but what about your brother?”
I jolt away from Skirra.
Thoren’s standing only two paces behind me now, his jaw tight, his hatred for Malak written in every line of his face.
I step in front of my brother, trying to bring moisture to my mouth as I stare down the arrow Malak’s holding to his bow. “My brother will do what he needs to do to stay alive.”
Malak pauses, then to my relief, stands swiftly and retracts his bow and arrow, his palms cupping the metal they were formed from as if he’s simply flattening pieces of parchment. “Very well.”
When he separates his palms, the black band has reformed on his right hand.
He rises back to his full height and turns to Kalith, who is poised at the corner of the cart.
“Take Asha home,” Malak says.
My step away from the cart has taken me closer to Asha, and I hurry to bend to her, not trusting Kalith to pull the furs over her face in a way that will ensure she can breathe.
Quickly, I turn her sleeping head so she’s facing to one side before I pull the topmost fur up over her. This way, there will be a gap between her face and the pelt.
“Get out of the way, Boy,” Kalith snaps at me.
“Vandawolf,” I snap back, my thirst and exhaustion getting the better of me. “Do not call me ‘Boy’.”
My acceptance of the name Malak gave me seems only to make Malak happy, but Kalith narrows his eyes at me, his hand twitching near the copper bands resting across his bicep.
I have no doubt that Kalith would try to strike me down if Malak would let him.
I step out of his way.
He checks that Asha is fully covered before he takes hold of the sled and pulls on the straps.
“I expect a report from you tomorrow afternoon,” Malak says to Kalith before he can leave. “You will give me a full account of how the families of our fallen men take the news of their deaths.”
Kalith gives Malak a short nod before he draws the sled away.
