The canvas of Vaunn’s tent stirred, and Rorn stepped inside. He held out a parchment to his son, sealed with a red wax stamp.

  “Vaunn, I need you to go see my brother and deliver this letter to him. Leave now, a horse is already saddled.”

  Vaunn tapped his leg; the three wolves immediately drew closer and took their place at his side.

  “Leave them here.”

  “I’ll be safer with them, Father.”

  Rorn placed a hand on Vaunn’s shoulder.

  “You must go as quickly as possible. They’ll slow you down.”

  “All right.”

  Rorn pulled him into an embrace.

  “Thank you.”

  Vaunn grabbed his pack, slipped a few belongings inside, then took hold of the sword leaning against the tent pole.

  “No need to take more,” Rorn said. “You must travel light.”

  Vaunn nodded and tightened the straps of his pack.

  “How long before I return?”

  “Long enough to deliver the letter. No more. Don’t linger.”

  Vaunn slipped the sword’s strap over his shoulder.

  “I’ll follow the main road.”

  “Good.”

  Vaunn adjusted the strap of his pack, then turned toward his father.

  “Goodbye, Father.”

  “Go.”

  Vaunn bent down and placed a hand on a wolf’s head.

  “Watch over the camp while I’m gone,” he murmured.

  The second wolf pressed its muzzle into his palm.

  “I won’t be long. I’ll come back as quickly as I can.”

  He ran his fingers through their fur.

  No sooner had he stepped through the tent opening than a handful of mud flew straight at him.

  “Hey!” he exclaimed, raising his arm too late.

  The mud splattered across his sleeve.

  “Hit!” Hyo shouted, his hand still full of dirt.

  “Hyo…” Vaunn sighed.

  The boy took off between the tents.

  “Get back here!” Vaunn called, setting off after him.

  Hyo zigzagged to escape, but Vaunn caught up to him. He grabbed him around the waist. They both tumbled to the ground in a cloud of dust.

  Vaunn burst out laughing and, before Hyo could break free, plunged his hand into the mud and smeared it across his face.

  “Hey, that’s not fair!” Hyo protested, laughing.

  Hyo coughed, squinting as mud ran down his cheeks. He tried to get back on his feet.

  “If you attack, you take responsibility.”

  Vaunn straightened and held out his hand; Hyo took it and stood up.

  “Father wants me to go see Dyrn.”

  “I can come with you.”

  “No, you’d just slow me down and your mother needs you to help with the cleaning,” Vaunn shot back.

  “If you want, you can take my place at home and I’ll go.”

  “Not in a million years,” the boy replied, laughing.

  *****

  After five days on the road by horseback, Vaunn arrived before his uncle’s village. Low houses took shape behind the palisade, and the track narrowed at the entrance. Two men stood there, blocking his way.

  The first was broad-shouldered, his dark beard braided, a spear resting against his thigh. The second, leaner, wore a worn mail shirt and kept a hand on the pommel of his sword.

  “Halt,” the larger man called.

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  “Your name,” the other added in a curt voice.

  Vaunn pulled on the reins and brought his mount to a stop.

  “Vaunn Lonjevie.”

  The two men exchanged a glance, and the bearded man straightened, lowering his spear.

  “Lonjevie…” he muttered. “You may pass.”

  Vaunn urged his horse forward and passed through the village entrance. He followed the track as it climbed gently up the hill. There, overlooking the dwellings, stood a large stone house.

  He dismounted in front of the house, tied his horse to an iron ring set into the stone, then headed for the entrance.

  The door opened before he even had a chance to knock. A stocky old man stepped out, broad-shouldered, his beard gray. His dark eyes narrowed as he studied the young man.

  “Vaunn?”

  “Yes,” he replied.

  The old man’s face lit up at once.

  “By the Ancients… I’m glad to see you.”

  “Good day, Uncle. My father wrote you this letter,” Vaunn said, holding it out to him.

  The man took the parchment, but instead of opening it, he pulled Vaunn against him and wrapped him in a tight embrace.

  “You’ve grown well,” he said, finally releasing him.

  “I’ll read it this evening,” he went on. “And to mark your arrival, we’ll prepare a feast.”

  “I won’t be staying long, Uncle. My wolves are waiting for me.”

  “Then stay at least for the night. Tomorrow, you can leave at dawn.”

  “Very well. I’ll leave tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Perfect!”

  Dyrn invited Vaunn inside and closed the door behind them. They crossed the hall.

  “I’ll show you the kitchens,” Dyrn said, heading down a corridor.

  They emerged into a room where women were bustling around large wooden tables and looked up at their arrival.

  Dyrn clapped his hands.

  “Listen carefully! We have guests tonight. I want a meal for around twenty tables. And have an ox slaughtered.”

  The women exchanged weary looks; some sighed, others shook their heads before returning to their work.

  Dyrn motioned for Vaunn to follow him again. They went out through a side door and crossed the courtyard, then headed for the stables.

  Inside, several horses shifted restlessly. Dyrn pointed to the stalls.

  “These are for racing,” he said, indicating sleek, high-strung mounts. “And over there, the plow horses.”

  “You can see the difference,” Vaunn murmured.

  “Everything has its purpose.”

  When the sun had dropped behind the hills, they returned to the courtyard. Tables had been set up and torches lit. Vaunn and his uncle ate alongside the villagers. Seventeen tables had been arranged. The celebration lasted until dawn.

  Lynn and Bacr, Vaunn’s cousins, were not present that night. They had been sent north to sign treaties with other hunting clans. Their absence weighed on Vaunn; it had been a long time since he had last seen them.

  The following day, in the early afternoon, Vaunn undid the tether holding his horse. His uncle joined him and handed him a bag of provisions.

  “Take this for the road. You’ll need it.”

  “Thank you, Uncle,” Vaunn replied, fastening the bag to the saddle.

  “Take care of yourself.”

  Vaunn nodded, and they exchanged a final farewell. He urged his mount forward and rode out of the courtyard.

  *****

  The meat his uncle had given him proved rich and flavorful, as did the candied ginger treats, equally delicious. But as night began to fall, he urged his pace, unwilling to spend another night under the open sky.

  In the distance, Vaunn finally caught sight of the tents of his hamlet. No light shone. No fire burned. A bad feeling clenched his chest, and he quickened his pace. The closer he drew, the more a pestilent stench reached him, heavy and suffocating, burning his throat. Even before reaching the hamlet’s entrance, he dismounted.

  He strapped his sword to his side, took up his bow, and nocked an arrow. He drew the string, moving forward slowly, every step taut with tension, and then entered the camp.

  Bodies littered the ground. He moved among them, breath short, his heart skipping a beat with every step. He averted his gaze, then stopped dead before one body. He stepped closer. When he recognized Hyo, the world froze: his friend had been cut in two.

  He forced himself onward toward his father’s tent, legs trembling, each step heavier than the last. He pulled aside the canvas and stepped inside. A pool of blood covered the ground. At the center lay a mutilated torso, while his wolves lay resting all around it.

  Vaunn collapsed, a sob tearing from his chest. As he wept, he noticed a twitch : Garr’s paw was trembling.

  He rushed to him. The wolf’s tail began to wag faintly when it saw him approach. Vaunn dropped to his knees and immediately pulled him into his arms. Garr licked his hand.

  Half of his belly was torn open, his entrails spilled across the ground. With trembling hands, Vaunn gathered what he could and placed them back into Garr’s body.

  “You have to live, Garr,” he sobbed.

  The red vial slipped from his pocket and fell to the ground. He startled, then stared at it, as though only just remembering it existed. He picked it up and pulled out the stopper.

  “Hold on…” he murmured.

  He lifted Garr’s head and let the liquid flow between his fangs. The wolf swallowed with difficulty, then exhaled deeply in a harsh breath. His body went slack. Vaunn placed a hand on his chest. Garr’s heart had stopped beating.

  A silent scream tore at his throat. Vaunn held the wolf’s body against him until exhaustion overtook him and slept beside Garr.

  The next two days were a blur of fatigue and pain. Vaunn buried the bodies one by one.