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Now, with his eyes closed, Ardi could almost see what was happening two floors below him, guided by the scents, sounds and subtle sensations that reached him.

"Do you want the truth or a lie?" Kelly unfastened his holster and hung it over the back of a chair.

Shaia sighed and sat down opposite him. Ardi, eyes open now, looked out the window. The stars were already lighting up the sky, and in the distance, above the towering peaks of the Alсade, eagles soared, drawn to the endless reaches of the black expanse. Proud and free, they glided among the clouds, hunting unsuspecting prey. Any moment now, their talons would seize the scruff of a mountain goat, hurling it off a cliff, only to then tear into its tenderized flesh and broken bones with sharp beaks.

Ardi felt like that goat.

But he couldn’t fall. He kept trying to cling to something, anything, but nothing held. And something inside him itched, as if once, deep down in his core, he had been whole and strong like a young oak, but now... Now he was being gnawed away by insects, leaving tiny, aching holes in his very soul.

"I’d rather hear the truth," Shaia said as she moved to the stove, removed the kettle, and poured fragrant tea into a cup.

"The truth..." Kelly repeated. "If this had happened five years ago, nobody would have said a word. But after they finished the railroad to Delpas, and the workers from Blue Lake poured in... Well, you know how Evergale has grown in the last five years. I used to manage on my own, but now I have four deputies, and even that’s not enough. And I-"

"Dear," Shaia interrupted him, and Ardi’s heart skipped a beat.

Tears scalded his cheeks. He’d remembered what that salty, hot moisture was called, but by the Sleeping Spirits, he wished he could forget.

"The mayor is not against it," the sheriff got to the point. "And how could he be, when his own son was one of those Hector saved? As were many others’ children. But those who came from the south, especially the miners from Delpas... We’re not in Metropolis, honey. And we’re not on the border of N’gia... People here have only seen the Firstborn in pictures, if at all. To them..."

"To them, other races are no different than demons," Shaia nodded and turned to the window, her chair creaking slightly, her dress rustling.

"May the Face of Light forgive us," Kelly said quietly, taking a sip of the brew. During the whole day that Ardi had spent in the attic, he hadn’t once smelled alcohol in the house. That damned sheriff... why was he so difficult? "There was such an uproar at the meeting, you’d think I had suggested keeping their children in a room with a hungry beast."

They fell silent, sitting quietly and drinking their tea. Only Shaia stood occasionally, pacing nervously in front of the cupboards before sitting down again, then she would stand up once more to do it all over again.

"It almost came to a fist fight," Kelly continued. "Locals against the newcomers, if you can call them that, considering the fact that even the newest settlers have been here for a year and a half."

"And what about the pastor?"

"Tangisiy? What about him... He’s as green as they come. I don’t think he’s even twenty. And a foreigner, at that, from Holy Throne Uldjingood. Straight from Arma."

"I remember."

"Ah, yes. Sorry..."

Silence again.

"A missionary, damn him..." Kelly mumbled a few more words, but Ardi couldn’t make them out. "He’s pretty open and tolerant, honestly. Like all of them over there are. So, he was on our side. Said every savage should be given a chance to come to the Light and-"

"Ardi is not a savage!" Shaia couldn’t hold back and slammed the closet door.

"You’ll wake Kena and Erti... I just put them to sleep."

Silence again. This time, it was heavy, stone-like, pulling everything down.

"I’m sorry," Shaia whispered, her voice breaking into a barely audible sob. "I just don’t know what to do. I really don’t..."

"The mayor is on our side, sweetheart. As are all the people with any influence in this town. As for those grumbling miners... a few nights in a cell will cool even the hottest heads. The rest will make a fuss, and then it’ll all get buried under the daily grind."

"But what if they try to hurt Ardi?"

"A minor?" Kelly was clearly surprised. He even put down his fork in shock. "Well, then I’ll be happy to put up a noose and deal with them according to Imperial Law."

"I’m not talking about the adults, Kelly. I’m talking about their children."

"I wouldn’t worry about that," Kelly said, rubbing his upper lip where a plaster could still be seen. "I’d be more concerned about the safety of anyone who tries to mess with your eldest son than about him."

"But he’s just a child..."

These words burned Ardi like fire. He wasn’t a child. There was no need to worry about him. He didn’t need to be cared for. No. He was the one who should worry about his pack. Caring for them. Hunting. Choosing the best lands for their den. Walking the hunters’ paths among his equals. And...

Ardi glanced out the window again. There loomed the peaks of the Alсade. So familiar and so dear to him. Where he knew every slope, every river bend, every lake and stream.

The hunter didn’t even notice that he’d opened the window and, without making a sound, leaped down. He landed lightly, springing and rolling, then stretched to his full height and breathed in the cold night air. It was coming in from the north, telling Ardi a thousand stories of forest streams and mountain trails.

Of his home.

Casting a quick glance at the place where his mother and brother had found refuge, he sighed and shook his head. Maybe they would be better off without him now. Without the savage who didn’t know clever words, who couldn’t speak properly, and who didn’t even know how to use cutlery.

His mother would be at peace.

He would visit her. A couple of times a season.

Ardi turned toward the mountains and had already taken his first step, when…

"It’s easier this way, isn’t it?" A whisper came from behind him.

The hunter whirled around, baring his fangs, but quickly came to his senses. Behind him, wrapped in a woolen shawl, stood a frail old man. His grandfather. Ardi remembered him as a once mighty but weakened tree. Now it seemed like his once strong trunk could be broken by even the slightest breeze. Yet that yellow-eyed gaze, still so clear and determined, didn’t let Ardi deceive himself into thinking his grandfather was weak.

"I would like to say that I understand how you feel, Grandson," the old man continued in the language of the Fae, "but that would be a lie. You won’t find anyone who understands you for hundreds of miles, Ardi. Maybe even farther than that."

The hunter straightened and stood beside him, offering his shoulder, upon which his grandfather leaned with all his weight. Spirits... He was no heavier than Skusty...

"They don’t need me."

His grandfather turned to him and threw an arm around his shoulder, trying to pull him in close, like before, but he couldn’t.

"When Shaia wakes up in the morning and doesn’t see you, it will break her heart, Ardi. That much I know for sure."

The hunter didn’t take his eyes off the Alсade. And what about his heart? Would it survive?

"You’ve only been back a day. The pull to return to the trails is natural, Grandson," the old man cleared his throat and looked at his palm, quickly hiding it under his shawl. "But you are mistaken about the source of your feelings. It’s not so much discomfort or grief as it is fear."

And Ardi could indeed feel those icy claws squeezing his chest again, as if a sticky, wet fur was pressing against him.

"You are afraid, Grandson, because everything here is unfamiliar. Nothing is the way it was before you left with Ergar. And nothing is the way the other hunters taught you on the trails. You’re like a newborn cub all over again, for a third time."

The hunter didn’t argue. Not because he couldn’t find the right words — his conversations with Skusty and Atta’nha had taught him how to be quick-witted and incisive. However, his grandfather was right, and lying in order to try and convince him or Ardi himself... what would be the point? It was as Atta’nha had once said: dreams changed reality, but lies only spoiled it. But even the wisest wouldn’t know the difference at times. Ardi wasn’t wise and didn’t understand the difference, but he clearly remembered that lies wouldn’t help.

"I was going to give this to you when you were older," his grandfather said suddenly, looking down the mountain path that led to their home. "I know Hector would have been against it... But the world would be unbearable if sons always followed their fathers’ wishes to the letter, and vice versa."

The old hunter pulled something from his inner pocket and handed it to Ardi. When he took a closer look, Ardi was surprised to see an old key resting in the palm of his grandfather’s hand. It was massive, heavy, with peeling paint in places and slightly rusty. Ardi remembered this key. His father had never parted with it, always keeping it tied to his belt.

"It’s the key to the shed!" Exclaimed the hunter.

The very same shed that had kept its secrets hidden from curious eyes for many years.

"Before heading down, your father asked me to throw that key into a crevice, but I couldn’t," his grandfather’s lips almost cracked when he tried to smile faintly. "I couldn’t let go of our history, Ardi. And it’s not my choice to make. Not anymore."

Ardi reached for the key, but hesitated, looking at his grandfather. As always, he radiated warmth and reliability, even now that he was too weak and stubbornly refusing to walk the paths of the spirits.

"But-"

"No conditions or demands," his grandfather shook his head. "If you want, take it and return to the mountains. But I’d suggest you give it some time. After all, the hunter’s paths didn’t come easily to you at first, either. Perhaps you just need to get used to these as well. After all, Ardi, the hardest answers are often found in the places we least expect."

His grandfather must have heard the question Ardi had asked the wind the night before: "Who am I now?"

The old hunter coughed, waved Ardi away, and, leaning on his staff, made his way to the chair on the porch, intending to take a nap in the fresh air. Ardi watched him, but didn’t offer any help. That would have only insulted his grandfather. Like all hunters who’d reached the end of their path, he sought neither care nor support, only the chance to leave with dignity and silence, so the pack wouldn’t even notice.

Such was the law of the hunt.

But Ardi couldn’t remember hunters wielding carved staffs decorated with symbols of the Aean’Hane’s art.

"Grandfather," he called to the only other Matabar besides himself.

The old man stopped, but didn’t turn around.

"You are Aean’Hane, aren’t you?" Ardi asked, though deep inside, he already knew the answer. "None of the guardian spirits taught our pack the language of the Fae. And no hunter, no matter how keen his hearing, could have changed the ways and made Ergar my teacher, even though I wasn’t suited for the path of the snow leopards."

For a while, the old hunter stood in silence, gazing at the stars. Then, without turning, he simply said, "There are some questions, Ardi, that are better left unasked," and with immense difficulty, he climbed the stairs, leaned his staff against the wall, and, wrapped in blankets, fell asleep almost instantly, swaying slightly in his chair.

Ardi stood in the silence for a moment, then hung the key next to the oak figurine. With a last quick glance at the Alсade, he turned and with two quick jumps — one from the wall and then another from the awning — found himself back in the attic, which might’ve now become his temporary den.

Gently closing the window behind him, Ardi sniffed the air and asked, "What you do here?"

At first, nothing happened, but after a few seconds, the door creaked open and a boy appeared in the doorway. Dressed in a nightgown with various mythical creatures on it, his chestnut hair disheveled and his eyes a little sleepy, he held a tray in his small, chubby hands. On the tray was a cup of cold, sweet drink and a piece of stale bread.

Erti had obviously brought these from the kitchen himself, judging by the fact that Kelly and Shaia’s voices had faded somewhere in their bedroom.

"I thought you might be hungry," the child said with a hint of fear in his voice. He looked around and, finding no place to put the tray, set it down on the floor. "I brought you some food from the kitchen. But don’t worry! If Mom and Dad get mad, I’ll tell them it was all my idea!"

Ardi suppressed a smile — he had noticed that his and his grandfather’s fangs could frighten people.

He took a step toward the offering, and Erti flinched, nearly tumbling down the stairs. With a few quick moves, Ardi darted across the attic and caught his brother before anything could go wrong.

The child barely had time to register what had happened.

"Wow," was all he said as he was brought back to his feet. "How did you... so fast... Well, really fast."

Erti was clearly struggling to find the right words, constantly looking away.

"I’m sorry I hit you," he blurted out suddenly, as if he’d remembered something very important. "It didn’t hurt too much, did it?"

"No pain," Ardi shook his head and sat down on the floor next to the tray. "Matabar skin hard. Mine softer. But tougher than human. Heal fast. Hurt little."

Relief was evident on his brother’s face, and after standing around a bit longer, he sat down beside him. Without hesitation, Ardi carefully took the cup of sweet, viscous drink. Or at least he thought he was being careful, but it almost slipped from his clumsy grip, forcing him to clench his teeth around the rim, nearly cracking the clay material. Ardi froze, waiting for his brother to react with fear, but Erti only laughed, then quickly stifled the sound.

Ardi sighed, took a sip of the drink and, eyes wide with surprise, emptied the mug in one swift motion, even licking the bottom of it afterwards.

"I knew you’d like it! It’s cocoa! I love it!" Erti exclaimed happily, then sadly added, "But it’s better when it’s hot, except I don’t know how to turn on the stove."

"Cocoa," Ardi repeated, holding out his hand.

His brother tensed but didn’t flinch. Erti was no coward, and was maybe even braver than Ardi himself. At least, when Ardi ruffled his brother’s hair the same way his own had been ruffled not too long ago, he didn’t detect any scent of fear from him. Only tension.

"Thank you," Ardi said and took a bite of the bread, struggling a bit despite his fangs.

Erti watched him with a pure, genuine smile. Then he suddenly became shy.

"You’re not going to leave again, are you?"

Ardi froze.

"I heard what Dad said, but that’s just nonsense! What does it mean, they don’t like you living with us?" Erti clenched his little pink fists. Had Ardi really been that tiny once? "I’ll go to school in the fall, too, and I’ll protect you. I won’t let anyone hurt you!"

He turned to Ardi and looked at him with a look... a look that was perhaps similar to the way Ardi had once looked at his own father.

"Just don’t go, okay?" He whispered. "I just feel like you want to go. But don’t go... When you came, I suddenly felt so calm... and I know I won’t have nightmares anymore... But don’t stay just because of that. Just stay. Even for a little while. We are..."

The longer Erti spoke, the more his eyes filled with tears, his nose ran with snot, and his words became less coherent. At one point, Ardi put an arm around his brother’s shoulders and pulled him close.

"You my brother," he said, feeling a lump forming in his throat. "One tribe. One land. I be by you side. Not worry. I guard you against nightmare. I chase away fear."

"You won’t leave?" Erti repeated.

"No one but you can take care of Shaia and Ertan."

Ardi shook his head.

"I not."

Erti nodded and laid his head on Ardi’s shoulder.

"Can I stay with you tonight? I won’t be any trouble. I’ll just sleep next to you, okay?"

Ardi held his brother close and remembered Ergar’s lessons. He’d used to think that being an adult hunter meant making his own decisions. When to sleep. When to eat. What to do. But now, holding this small cub, unable to survive on its own in the human world, let alone in the Alсade, Ardi understood what it really meant to be an adult hunter.

And he had almost made a mistake that would have betrayed everything his friends and mentors had taught him. He was responsible for his own. For his brother, even if he called another man "father;" for his mother, even if she shared her bed and roof with that same man.

It didn’t change the fact that he had to take care of them.

Such was the law of the hunt.

"I’ll always be by your side, little brother," Ardi whispered in the Fae language, though Erti was already asleep and likely didn’t hear a thing. "Forgive me for almost losing my courage."

He finished the bread, lifted Erti into his arms with some effort, and grunted as he carried him over to the furs, making sure he was comfortable and warm before lying down beside him. Well, it seemed like more adventures were waiting for him, damn it. He could only hope that this time he wouldn’t have to fight a troll.