The Merciful Path, Pt. II

[Colt]

11th of winter, 515 a.v.
midday

The clearing was rustling with the sound of busy bodies, rummaging through the brittle grass and frost to lay claim to whatever morsels they could manage to find in the cold season. Winter was still young, and so there was still food to be found in between the leaves and branches for those who were clever enough to know where to look for it.

The disturbance of the previous day had quickly faded from the memory of those that called the clearing home. It had done little to affect them, really, and nothing had happened since then; those that were aware of the cave knew that there was little to be found in it, and so they passed it by without interest.

For the Witch, though, the cave held quite a great deal of interest.

The black bay strider made his way through the forest with some degree of weariness, already tired of wolves and running and the generally uncoordinated schedule that his rider had begun to live as of late. The duties of Caiyha were not like most; as a Witch, Shahar had been surprised to find out that his days were now scattered and spread beneath both Syna and Leth, to the point that ‘days’ was no longer the best term to describe them. His tasks––of which there were many––woke him up and kept him out at all hours of both day and night, with a pattern so complex and complicated that it held the illusion of randomness.

To put it simply, he was tired, and he didn’t want to have to be here.

The Web had revealed the presence of Yvex to him, despite his repeated attempt to prod the man into returning to Endrykas. There was no place for a Drykas without a strider out in the sheer wilderness of the Sea of Grass, especially one who did nothing but lay in a cave and mope. Shahar didn’t know how long Yvex had been out here, but the lions and glassbeaks hadn’t wandered deep into the trees yet, an event that would surely occur soon if he didn’t move to a safer, less exposed location. In Endrykas he would have the protection of numbers and Watchmen.

Snow was ahead of them, sniffing at the edge of the cave without actually going inside. She looked up when Shahar brought Akaidras to her side, leaning back and dropping his weight to signal his strider to halt. Akaidras tossed his head and stomped a foot, but did as asked.

Shahar pulled a leg over Akaidras’ rump and slid down onto his own two feet, looking into the cave and to the dark shape that lay curled at the back.

“Yvex?” he asked. Concern and curiosity mixed with an annoyed sternness. If the man was unwilling to help himself then it wouldn’t be Shahar’s fault if he was eaten.

Yvex made no remark, and so Shahar continued deeper. He knew that the Sapphire Drykas wasn’t dead; if he was, there would already be animals tugging at the corpse.

The Witch took a set a mere three paces away from the other man. “Why are you still here?” Danger, move, necessary. “You need to get back to Endrykas.”

“And do what?” Yvex snapped, turning around suddenly so he could look at Shahar. “Wander into a pavilion and hope they take me in?”

“I can help you,” Shahar assuaged, unshaken by the sharpness of Yvex’s tone. “Stay with my family until you feel the need to leave.”

“I don’t want your pity.” There was a clear tone of bruised pride that Shahar even needed to offer such a thing.

Sighing, the Dawnwhisper pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “If you stay here, you will die.”

There was silence for a moment, then a few moments, then longer, and Shahar eventually wondered if Yvex had heard him.

But then Yvex closed his eyes, rubbing his hands together in contemplation. “I don’t think I can go back. There’s nothing for me there.”

“There is more for you there than there is here.”

“I can barely see my own two hands anymore. My trade was… is… was magic. Morphing, usually. That was what we all did. And then something else, too, but that was for heirs. But you put a stop to that.”

Shahar tilted his head. Heirs. That sounded familiar. Flint? “Your wolf. Did he have your something else?”

Yvex shrugged in defeated cynicism.

“The eyes,” Shahar murmured. “Your eyes. His eyes. They are strange. It that your something else? Magic?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Yvex closed back up, apparently unwilling to speak on the matter. Shahar hmmed, then tried to move to a different topic. Perhaps discussing something less raw would encourage the man to speak at all.

“What about what all of you did? I have heard that word before. Morphing.”

Yvex blinked, distantly curious. “From who?”

“There was a man, during the fall. He had magic, and he could be a man and a cat. He called it morphing.”

Yvex nodded, then held up his hands. At first, Shahar wondered if he was making a sign of some sort, but then something happened. Those hands began to change. Before his eyes they became darker, longer, nails lengthening while hair thickened and became fur.

And then it was done, and slid back into what it had been before.

“Is that what this man could do?”

Shahar nodded in dumb amazement.

“That’s morphing.”

“Everyone in your family did that?”

“When they came of age.” He smiled suddenly, although it was somewhat ironic. “We Windrivers, we were always taught that morphing was the only way to get closest to Caiyha. The elders said that if we became animals, we became one with her. Said it was like meeting the Goddess herself.” He chuckled. “And look at you. All painted and marked. Not a lick of that magic inside you, and you’re closer than any of us ever got.”

“Is it not something you’re born with?”

“No. It’s something you learn.”

“Anyone can learn?”

“Anyone that can stomach the lessons.” He looked up at the roof of the cave. “Caiyha was our patron god. That was why we always gave the magic eyes to wild animals. My father, a wolf. My mother, a hawk. My sister, a bobcat. That’s why I chose Flint over a dog. They always said that wolves were what Caiyha intended, and dogs weren’t.”

“... They spoke true,” Shahar admitted softly. A pause, and then, “That is why I took Flint.”

“Because it’s what Caiyha intended?” Yvex snorted, disbelieving.

“Because he is a wolf. It is natural for him to be wild. Something wild is what I needed.”

“For what?”

“Did you hear of Merevaika Wolf-Slayer?”

“No, can’t say I have. Does she slay wolves?”

“Yes. An entire pack.”

“A whole pack? By herself?”

Shahar shrugged. “Perhaps alone. Perhaps with help. I have heard it told both ways. The how is not important, only the act itself. There is now an empty space where a pack of wolves should be. Without the wolves, the deer will multiply, and there will be none to kill them, and then there will be too many deer. Too many deer will eat too much grass, and then there will be no grass left, and the land will die.” That was a painfully simplified version of the problem, but Shahar knew full well that to try and explain the full scope of what he had done would be both lengthy and pointless.

“And what is Flint’s role?”

“I have led Flint and his mate to where the old pack used to live. Soon Endrykas will move on, and they will have pups in the spring. Those pups will be grown by the time Endrykas comes again, and then they will all kill deer. The land will be as it should be.”

Yvex sighed, still staring at the roof of their shelter. “He’s doing good work then, I suppose.”

“It was the work he was born to do.”

“His pups’ll have the eyes. Definitely, now that he’s given the eyes to her. His… mate.”

“It carries?”

“Yes.” Yvex smiled gently. “I’m proud of him.”

“You should be. He is saving this place.”

A silence fell over them, but it was neither tense nor awkward. It was comfortable and contemplative, as each was slowly wrapped up in their own thoughts. Shahar, wondering at magic, and Yvex, at the fate of his companion.

But they were both brought out of it when the Sapphire’s stomach growled loudly, enough for eve Shahar to hear.

Shahar tilted his head. “When was the last time you ate?” he asked, even though he knew that the answer was almost definitely something along the lines of too long ago.

“Don’t remember,” Yvex answered, shaking his head. “Days, I think. Stopped hurting already.”

Shahar nodded, bringing his feet back under him and standing. “Stay where you are. I will return soon.”

“Where are you going?”

“Hunting.”

[Colt]

He left Snow behind, insisting that she guard the entrance of the cave. While Yvex had not yet done anything to attract the attention of those on the grasslands that were of a more predatory mind, it never hurt to have a contingency plan; Snow’s presence would dissuade many of the more minor beasts of fangs and talons, as she was large enough to reliably be called “intimidating.” Shahar had stopped wondering after her size long ago; Snow would grow for as long as was proper, even if he himself didn’t know the exact length of time that would be. Even if she was one day the size of a horse, she would never cease to be his Snow.

Leaving behind the cave, Shahar made his way to where Akaidras was lazing and removed the quiver of javelins from the yvas. He didn’t have the mind nor the heart to ask any more of the stallion; his strider had suffered just as much as he had from their odd and uncoordinated schedule, and had taken the chance to cant a hoof, hang his head and drift into a light doze. It was a doze he had earned many times over, and Shahar let him be. It wasn’t as if he needed to carry out this hunt from horseback, anyway.

He kept to the deeper places of the trees, eyes narrowed for any trails, young or old. He wasn’t searching for a specific target so much as he was searching for patterns; where many paths crossed, food was easily found. If food was easily found, then it was a safe gamble that there would be something that was looking for it; Shahar wasn’t a picky eater, and didn’t have much preference between rabbit, bird or anything else that he might come across.

It was a raccoon that eventually revealed itself to him. Somewhat aged, although sprightly enough to clamber down and dig stubbornly between the roots of a tree––filching someone else’s stores, no doubt. He spotted it from across a clearing, and then sank into a practiced hunting crouch. As always, he gave equal attention to the movements of his prey and to the movements of his feet; there were more things to step on in the forest than there were on the open plains, like leaves and twigs. He knew from experience that the darkest ground was usually the quietest, and so it was the darkest ground he stepped on. Dirt, or plant matter that had rotted to the point of softness; the dark spots were the least telling, and they kept him unnoticed as he grew close enough to aim his weapon.

The raccoon looked up once, and Shahar froze. Within a chime of not seeing anything, the raccoon went back to what it was doing.

Shahar edged a little closer.

He kept beneath the shade of the trees, where the dappled patterning of the shadows cast his colors into blurred half-relief. He kept an ear to the wind, and matched his movements to it as best he could; when the shadows moved, he moved with them, swaying to keep the patterns on his body and keep the raccoon further disoriented. It was a technique he didn’t have much call to use, at least not while he was on the Sea of Grass, but underneath the trees it was useful.

It deceived the raccoon, at least.

When he was certain that the animal was absorbed in what it was doing, the Witch very carefully lifted his javelin to his shoulder. It was familiar in his hand, weight, length and all, and he knew that it would reliably sail wherever he sent it sailing. The trick was to send it sailing in the right place.

The raccoon would sense the thing coming, no doubt. The split second the raccoon fled would be the most crucial; it wouldn’t have time to waste looking up or around, so it was likely to dart to one side and around the tree before scaling it. If he could pinpoint which direction it was going to sprint, he could compensate and pierce it in the action.

After a few moments of examination, Shahar saw that the roots were higher on the right than they were the left. It would therefore take more time to climb them; as long as nothing directly chased the raccoon into running the opposite direction, it was almost certain to take the option that required the least energy. It was to the left that Shahar oriented, then, shifting a subtle curve in his shoulders as he judge the raccoon’s speed against its awareness, and then that against the speed of his throw.

Narrowing eyes. Breathe.

He drew back, coiling like a snake preparing to strike, and then he set the weapon free. The javelin arced through the air, following the line of Shahar’s sight and on a straight course to a foot-length to the raccoon’s left. Shahar himself could hear no sound from the spear, but he was not a raccoon; as expected, the animal sensed the breath of Dira bearing down on its back, whether by ear or by shadow or by the simple, chilling sense that it was about to die.

It bolted to the left, which, had Shahar been a less experienced hunter, would have saved its life. As it was, bolting left was the decision that killed it.

The raccoon squealed as the spearhead slid smoothly into its body, then lifted it up and carried it off its feet before sinking into the wood of the tree behind it and pinning the animal to the bark with a dull, solid thunk. It struggled and thrashed, but the spear was too large and the damage too vast; every movement it made only served to bring its fate on more hastily. Shahar didn’t run to catch it. There was no need to. He straightened and rolled his shoulders, then approached his quarry at an easy walk. The raccoon was in too much agony to resist him when he grabbed the scruff of its neck, unsheathed his hunting knife and ended its life more quickly and cleanly than the javelin would have ever done.

[Colt]

“Back so soon?” Yvex’s gravelly voice greeted him, laced with a healthy dose of skepticism and cynicism.

“I am.” Shahar lay the dead raccoon over a large rock, then set out to scour the clearing for wood.

“And you’re already leaving,” the Sapphire snickered. Shahar ignored him.

Beneath tree cover, wood was relatively easy to find. It came in the form of fallen branches and twigs, all water sapped and stolen by the dry weather of the Sea of Grass, and of the brittle chill of the season that had come upon them. All in all, the branches he found were perfect for burning––even if it would take a little breaking to get them down to a manageable size.

“What are you doing out there?” Yvex called out. “Sounds like you’re pulling up the entire forest.”

Shahar didn’t respond. There was no need to explain himself, and besides, Yvex didn’t seem like he was actually interested in anything Shahar was doing so much as poking fun at him. Talking about his actions would almost certainly be met with a shrug, a dismissal or a sarcastic quip.

The Witch was in the mood for none of those things.

He found the smallest branches and separated them, then did his best at splitting those branches that it was possible to split. His axe was on Akaidras’ yvas, but he didn’t want to reach for it yet––not until he had a fire going.

When his pile of usable wood was of acceptable size, Shahar picked up what he could and hauled it into the cave, where he dumped it unceremoniously in a spot that was out of the wind. Yvex, who had been staring curiously at an unconcerned Snow, looked over with a frown.

“That wood? You making a fire?”

“Unless you want to eat raw,” Shahar deadpanned in return.

Yvex did not continue on that particular train of conversation, and so Shahar returned to his work. The next thing to do was to retrieve his flint and steel, which were also in the confines of his strider’s yvas, in the same place that they always were. He brought them into the cave, along with a pile of sticks, small twigs and a handful of dry leaves. One of the leaves he crumbled between his fingers until they became a fine dust, and then he brought the flint and steel to the fore. One strike, and sparks flew… in the wrong direction. He adjusted his angle and tried again. This time a shower of the things landed straight onto the leaves, and Shahar leaned down quickly to breathe them into life. They flickered with each exhale, growing stronger and stronger until they began to curl the material of the other leaves. He added some dry grass, and they grew bigger. Smoke appeared, doubling in size with each gentle breath to feed it. More leaves, and then the bright light of a flame appeared. More leaves and grass followed, and then it was big enough to eat a twig. Two twigs. Three twigs. A rough pyramid of sticks.

Slowly but surely, the sparks were becoming a fire.

Shahar lingered close as the flame came into its own power, feeding it until he believed it strong enough to handle one of the larger bits of branch he had split. He added two sections, and when they began to blacken and glow with the growing heat he gestured to Yvex.

“Will you watch this?” Respectful request. “I must tend to the food.”

Yvex rolled into a sitting position, eyeing both Shahar and the fire with wary intrigue. “I s’ppose,” he grumbled, halfheartedly irritated. “Ain’t too blind to do that. Yet.”

Not quite ready to ask exactly what he meant, Shahar nodded in gratitude and left Yvex to it. With the fire growing and under surveillance, he could turn his attention to the raccoon.

Skinning had never been the Witch’s strong suit, at least when it came to the task of actually preserving the skin. This time, however, the skin wasn’t so much of a concern as the meat beneath it, so Shahar felt comfortable taking out his knife once more and setting into the flesh of his kill. One vertical slit, from the throat, over the belly and to the base of the tail opened the thing up.

Snow’s ears perked at the smell. She knew that entrails were tasty and usually given out freely when skinning was done, and this time was no exception; when the stomach was opened, the guts were shaken out at her excited feet. There wasn’t nearly enough for a full meal, but she had eaten recently enough that she wasn’t uncomfortable, and it was a nice, unexpected treat.

Once the cave of the raccoon’s body was emptied of organs, Shahar made four more slits; one up the inside of each of the scavenger’s legs. The knife was wiped off on his trousers and then set aside; with most of the cutting done, the rest of the work was now up to his fingers.

He was aware of Yvex watching him intently as he dug his fingers underneath the skin and over the muscle. Raccoon skin was not tightly attached to what was underneath, and so it peeled off fairly easily. There was a pooling of blood on both sides where the javelin had speared it, and that blood got all over his hands when he reached it. Although the blood in itself didn’t disgust Shahar, he made a mental note to wash his hands off before they ate.

“Can we trade?” Yvex asked suddenly.

Shahar looked up. What?

“I think… I’d just like to skin that, if you don’t mind. You watch the fire, I’ll skin the thing. I’m good with my hands.” He was staring blankly at the corpse, body suddenly signless.

Shahar didn’t see any reason either way, but the sight of Yvex’s face made him feel reluctant to refuse. Guilt was a somewhat new feeling for the Witch, and one he found quite inconvenient.

“Alright,” Shahar acquiesced, handing over the raccoon. “You skin it. I’ll make something to cook it on.”

“Good.” Yvex leaned close and squinted at the thing that was now in his hands. A moment’s pause, and then he chuckled audibly. “Raccoon. My father always loved raccoon.”

[Colt]

With Yvex occupied with the carcass, Shahar found himself empty-handed. He needed to find something else to do. The fire was healthy and bright, if a bit small, but the only thing that would make it bigger now was time, and time would pass regardless of whether not Shahar was sitting by to stare at the fire. The bigger sticks had been added and were slowly submitting to the glow, but there was nothing Shahar could have possibly done to speed it up. And now that Yvex had the raccoon, he found himself with an itch to get something done.

Cooking. He could get ready for that. Yvex wasn’t even close to done, but that was alright. It was always wise to plan beforehand.

Shahar stood and looked around the cave for two large rocks. Or perhaps some flat ones that he could stack. All he wanted was something tall on either side of the fire, which they could use to support the raccoon when the time came.

He managed to find two vaguely rectangular stones of roughly the same size, and put those on opposing sides of their makeshift hearth. When that was done, he rifled through the pile of timber until he found a long, straight branch that was sturdy enough to serve as a spit and sat down to strip the twigs off of it. An occasional poke at the fire made sure that their heat source remained healthy, but aside from that there was little for him to do once the branch was made bare and useful.

At first, he just watched Yvex with the raccoon. The man did indeed seem to have experience with the task, and it was coming along far more cleanly than it would have in Shahar’s hands.

“That’s a beautiful animal you have,” Yvex said suddenly, making Shahar blink. The Sapphire jerked his chin in Snow’s direction, who, in the absence of something to do, had stood up and was investigating a large crevasse in the cave wall.

“Yes,” the Witch agreed, quietly thankful. “My Snow is beautiful.”

“What is she?”

Shahar hesitated. “A wolf,” he said, although there were clear undertones of uncertainty.

“She’s mighty big for a wolf.”

“I know.”

“Mighty big for a dog.”

“I know.”

“Where did you come by her?”

“In the summer. The silver chest.”

“That thing? I heard a woman put a comb in there and got back a set of jewels, only to find out that they were nothing but glass.”

Shahar didn’t comment.

“Your Snow seems a bit more precious than that.”

Agreement. “She is.”

There was silence, and Shahar had a rare stroke of insight in favor of keeping the conversation going.

“What about your Flint?” Shahar asked. “How did you come by him?”

“Hunting,” Yvex replied. “We were attacked by wolves in the night. We fended them off, and in the morning we tracked them back to their lair. We’d killed the dam, and so we took in the pups. Flint was the one I ended up with.” The Sapphire paused, an expression of fond remembrance spreading across his face. “It was always a rite of passage in our pavilion to learn your partner’s shape. I did it, and when he was big enough we went hunting together, like that. Not as wolf and man, but as wolf and wolf. I became like him.”

“Through magic?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“... Have you ever been inside the Web?”

Shahar nodded. As the leader of a pavilion, it was necessary. “Yes, I have.”

“Then you know that who you are on the inside is not the same as who you are on the outside. The inside-you, the real you, that is what travels the Web. The outside-you, that is simply a vessel.”

Shahar chuckled. “Yes.”

“All things are like that, Witch. Animals. Trees. There is an outside part of them, and an inside part of them. They aren’t like people. They can’t use magic. But they have something inside of them. Outsiders, they call it ‘djed.’”

“Djed.”

“Djed is your soul. It’s your energy. It’s who you are. When you travel in the Web, all your djed leaves your body. Your djed is you, it’s the stuff you are made of inside.”

“Thoughts. Feelings. Desires. Like that?”

“Sort of.” Yvex squinted, pausing to consider something. A few moments passed, and he gave himself a shake before continuing, voice taking on a suddenly somber tone. “Magic is the art of using djed. You can train your flesh and blood to shoot a bow, or to tie a knot. You can train your djed to do things, too, but they are different. Before all else, you must understand that your djed and your body are separate, but they are intertwined. Your djed is in control of your body. You want to lift your arm, your djed is the part of you that tells your arm to move. If you didn’t have it, your arm would just be limp and wouldn’t do anything.”

Shahar looked down and flexed his fingers. “I… think I understand,” hesitance. “In the Web, I feel it. I feel like I can lift my arms, except that I have no arms to lift.”

Yvex nodded. “That’s the right feeling. Inside, your djed has the shape of your outside. That way, your djed fits with your body. But,” he leaned close, the colored rims around his eyes beginning to glow. “Djed can do more. To change your shape, you must change your djed. If you can shape your djed, you can shape your body. You have control. Your djed has control.”

“How?”

“Close your eyes.”

[Colt]

“Now, feel your body. Feel the wind on your skin. Feel the rocks underneath you. Clench your fist. Feel the muscles and bones.”

Shahar obeyed.

“Understand that your body is nothing but a puppet. You are the puppet master. Your djed is the strings. Where you push your djed, your body will follow. You were born human. Your djed is human. Its shape is that of a human. But all shapes are different. A wolf’s djed is shaped like a wolf. An eagle’s, like an eagle. To be like them, you must assume yourself to be like them. Don’t just imagine ‘what it would be like,’ you must imagine what it is like. You must know the feeling of a horse’s hoof, or a cat’s paw.”

Shahar’s mind turned to the task, although he had no idea where to even start with such a vague command.

“Think of an animal-shape. The most familiar shape you know. The legs of a horse. The tail of a dog. The ears of a wolf.”

The claws of a she-falcon.

“You must know this form intimately. Something you have touched and examined. Something you know so well that you do not have to see it to remember exactly what it looks like.”

He thought of her talons. Strong and boney, all long tendon and knuckles. He thought of the scaly skin, and of the sheer power in her feet when she perched upon his arm. He knew every wrinkle and crack of those feet, as if they were his own hands.

“Now, you must imagine what it is like to have that as your own. Imagine the length of the bones. Imagine how the muscles move. Imagine home powerful it is. Separate yourself from your body, like you do in the Web. Make yourself different on the inside.”

He tried to feel the separation between self and vessel. He knew the feeling of the Web, and he understood that it was different from his body. He tried to identify the feeling of his djed, independent from his body. It was separate. It was magical. It was under his command.

He strained, the feeling of Khida’s talons in his mind. He strained, and he ran against something that blocked him. It wasn’t a barrier, exactly, so much as it was a weakness. It was like trying to use a muscle he had never used before. It fluttered at his command, but was reluctant to obey. He could feel it, though. He could feel what Yvex was talking about. There was the sensation of something that could be changed. He just had to push.

The task was hard, and it came from the inside out. He thought of what it felt like to clench something inside a falcon’s grip, but it didn’t begin where he expected. The feeling began in his forearm, where things tightened when his fingers closed around something. Cord thickened, and it spread to his wrist, where he moved his thumb to the back of the grip, to close in on prey and snap necks. He felt her knuckles, nothing but bone and sinew without an ounce of extra fat, and then he felt her wicked, beautiful talons. He felt what it was like to rip into fur and dig into flesh. He felt the warmth of blood spilling over his skin, and he felt the kicking and writhing of something unwilling to die. He felt what it meant to not let go.

“Well,” Yvex chuckled. “I’d say you’ve understood me.”

[Colt]

Shahar opened his eyes, frowning in puzzlement. What?

Yvex didn’t answer; there was a strange expression on his face. The look he was giving the Witch felt soft, and was laced with elements of pride. He wasn’t looking at his face, but rather at his hands. Shahar blinked, and then followed the gaze.

When he saw what was there, his eyes widened.

It wasn’t his hand anymore. It wasn’t Khida’s talons, either; it was something between the two, mutant and not at all what his hands were supposed to be. There were five fingers instead of Khida’s four, and they were a bit fatter, but they were nevertheless non-human. His skin had hardened and smoothed into familiar yellow scales. His nails had stretched into deadly sickles. The entire thing had narrowed down, becoming slender and bladelike; his left hand was… magical.

The moment he stopped to wonder at his hand, his control slipped. The feeling of Khida receded to his emotions, and though he scrabbled for it the instant he realized what was happening, it was too late; the magic slipped away, the scales disappeared, the talons shortened and his hand returned to what it had once been.

His hand was left buzzing, and he stared at it in amazement. “That… was that magic?”

“Yes.” Yvex was smiling now, although it seemed almost… ghostly. The old man left the raccoon and shuffled over, kneeling in front of Shahar. He was uncomfortably close, but not so much as to make Shahar want to leap up and evacuate the area; he knew that Yvex did not intend him harm, and that, even if he did, that he was not capable of causing great harm.

“Your hand,” Yvex indicated. “How does it feel?”

Shahar flexed it. “Strange.” It felt magical. There was no other way to describe it.

“That will pass. But you must be careful.” Look at this. Yvex reached for his sleeve and rolled it up to expose his arm––and the stretch of gray fur underneath.

“What is that?”

“The price,” Yvex answered, incredibly solemn. “You must be wary of magic. All magic has a price. You are changing your soul to use it. If you change your shape too much, you will be unable to return to your true form.”

“Unable? I will be trapped?”

He nodded. “You can be. When I was younger, I turned into a hunting cat. I did it so often that I became stuck. I couldn’t return to what I was for two seasons.”

“How did you go back?”

“Think of it like a wound. If your djed is injured, it can heal, just like your flesh. But every time you hurt it, it will leave a scar. If you hurt it too deeply, it can stop working properly. You can die, if you hurt your djed too badly.”

“How do I know if it is hurt?”

“Sometimes you won’t. That is why you must be careful.” There was heavy emphasis on caution and danger. “You must learn what your limits are, and then you must stay inside them.”

Shahar rubbed his hands together, contemplating the information, but Yvex wasn’t done. Not nearly. The old man was suddenly leaning close, making Shahar quite uncomfortable. The man paid no heed, and the Witch leaned back in vague alarm as Yvex locked eyes with him.

“Magic is sacred,” Yvex said. “This knowledge, you must guard it. This is power. This power must only remain in the hands of good people. If evil people have power, they use it to destroy.”

Awkward agreement, please back up.

“Do you promise to never let this magic fall into evil hands?”

Yes, I promise, please back up.

“Look at me.”

Back up.

“Look at me,” Yvex demanded.

Shahar looked at him. Their eyes met, and then there was magic.

[Colt]

Yvex’s eyes burst into color, their glow lighting both men’s faces. Shahar was suddenly unable to move, locked into the gaze of the Sapphire. It was as if he was being dragged in, closer and closer until their faces were mere inches apart. The glow of Yvex’s eyes was growing brighter by the second, swirling and pulsing until they blocked out all other sights, and the world consisted of nothing but his eyes.

They trapped Shahar’s own eyes, not metaphorically, but physically; those eyes became like the sun, blinding him to all else and piercing his vision with spikes of something foreign and powerful. They pierced the Witch and took hold of him, opening him by force and infecting him with liquid light.

And then, as quickly as it had begun, the ordeal was over.

Shahar fell back with a gasp, blinking and clawing at his eyes. Instinct took over; he snarled and sprang away from Yvex, scuttling across the floor of the cave until, still blinded, he ran into the wall with a solid thump.

Snow was instantly alert to his fear and distress, and leaped into the cave with a protective bark. She didn’t know what was happening––Yvex wasn’t attacking her partner––but she could feel that the Sapphire was somehow the source of whatever force had struck Shahar blind. She fell into a protective stance in between the two of them, hackles raised and teeth bared in warning.

Shahar felt for the wall, squeezing his eyes shut. Distantly, he could hear Yvex laughing madly.

There was darkness.

And then, slowly, there was redness.

And then, even more slowly, there was light.

Shahar opened his eyes. The world was blurred and unfocused, but it was there. He could see the changing colors and shapes of his surroundings. He squeezed his eyes shut, and then opened them again. The dirt and rock of the floor grew sharper, reorganizing itself to make sense again. He could see again. He could see earth. He could see stone. He could see Snow.

And he could see light. Winding, pulsing, flickering in and out, overlaying the cave and its contents, bound to both Snow and the prone form of the laughing Yvex.

“What…” Shahar stumbled to try and regain his feet. “What is this?”

“Can you see them, Witch?” Yvex crowed. “Can you see the threads of light?”

“I… what are they? They’re… they’re attached to you… to Snow… where are they going? What is this sorcery?”

“That’s your ‘something else,’ Witch!” Yvex laughed. “That’s the magic of the Windrivers!”

[Colt]

The world was awash with color. There were lines in the air and on the ground, similar to but different from the lines of the Web. They glowed with life and energy, left behind by beings passing through space. The brightest of them was Snow; she herself pulsed with brilliant blue light, light that was smeared in the air where she had leaped to his defense. There, her light was crossing over another––a rich magenta thread that was as strong and recent as she. It crossed over and wove into hers, and Shahar realized with a jolt that he was looking at his own trail.

Yvex, still rolling with laughter, was strikingly orange. As he rolled, he smeared that orange color all over the floor.

“You see it!” Yvex cried out. “Tell me, Witch! Tell me what you see!”

“Colors,” Shahar said dumbly. “You’re orange.”

“Yes! Hah! I am orange! Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for someone to tell me that?” Yvex rolled to all fours and looked up at Shahar. Although, not exactly ‘looked up;’ his gaze was unfocused and didn’t land on the Witch, but merely in his general vicinity.

“And your wolf? What color is she?”

“She’s blue.” So much blue. She was bluer than the sky itself.

“And you?” Yvex continued. “What color are you?”

“I’m… bright purple. Not quite purple. Sunrise-purple. That’s me.”

“Ahh… that is a fine color indeed.”

“What is this, Yvex? Is this magic? What are these? This is not the Web!”

“No.” He shook his head. “It most certainly is not. This is pathfinding.”

“Pathfinding?” Shahar repeated.

“You track animals, yes? They leave behind broken twigs and bent grass? Just as the body leaves behind signs, so does djed. Those colors you see? That is djed, made visible. You are seeing my djed, and your Snow’s djed, and your own djed. Those lines in the air, that is where you have been. It shows where you have gone. When you move somewhere, you leave some of your djed behind. The world remembers it even after you are long passed. You can see them, and so you can track them. You can find where something has gone, just by opening your eyes.”

Yvex collapsed back on the ground. And although he was visibly exhausted, he was smiling.

[Colt]

“Tell me about them, Witch,” Yvex murmured. “Are they beautiful?”

“Do you not see them?”

“No. Those days are behind me now. My last gift, my last magic, was to give them to you.”

“How? Why?”

“Just as your body can be injured, so can your djed, you remember? You see those strings with your djed. If you use too much, you will injure your eyes. I used too much when I was younger. I hurt my eyes. They got worse. When we met, I was at my end. I could barely see two strides in front of me. And now?” He sighed, equally mournful and relieved. “Now, I see nothing.” He turned his head in Shahar’s direction. “You’re all darkness now. My colors have all run dry.”

“You… are you blind?” It seemed almost unbelievable for such a thing to have happened within the last few moments.

“Yes. Blindness is the price for misusing that magic. But while you have it, it is a blessing. Please, tell me what you see. I want to imagine them.”

“Well… there are three of them. Yours, mine and Snow’s.”

“What about Flint?”

“He’s not here.”

“But he was here. Look harder. His trail is there.”

Shahar squinted. He focused. Where had Flint been tied up? He couldn’t see… yes, he could see. Light pink, much, much fainter than the others. The same color as Flint’s eyes.

“Pink,” Shahar said. “Flint is pink. I can see him.”

“I know his trail well,” Yves murmured. “I memorized it the day I killed his dam.” A pause. “Relax your eyes, Witch. Let the power fall back. No sense straining yourself on the first day.”

Shahar realized that there was a tension him. An effort, one that connected to his eyes in the same way it had connected to his Khida-hand. He closed his eyes and let the power fall back inside, and when he opened them, the light had disappeared. “It’s gone,” he said.

Yvex let out another sigh, staring blankly at the rocks above them.

“I can get you back to Endrykas,” Shahar offered. With everything that had happened, he didn’t want to simply leave Yvex as he was. “Come with me. You can stay with the Dawnwhispers as long as you like.”

“Stop. I can’t.” Yvex shook his head. “You know our ways. I don’t want to go anywhere. I would be a burden to your family. Don’t deny it; you know it to be true.” His face tightened. “I would be a burden to anyone I live with.”

“So what will you do? I don’t want to leave you here.”

“I can’t go back to Endrykas.”

“It is the only place you would survive.”

“I know.”

There was a pause, and then Yvex turned to face Shahar again. “This is a gift I have given you, Witch. It is the last gift I can give anyone. Will you promise to protect it, and to keep it safe, and to keep it alive?”

Shahar nodded, although Yvex could no longer see it. “Yes, I promise.”

“Then I ask you to repay me for the gift I have given you.”

“How?”

“Help me to die.”

[Colt]

What little was left of the day was spent in silence. Once Shahar agreed to the Sapphire’s terms, there was little else to say. Yvex finished preparing the raccoon, even with his eyesight gone, and they secured it to a sturdy rod of wood and seared it over the fire. It was gamier than many raccoons, but it had been an old specimen; neither of them complained about it, and the remains were tossed to Snow.

“What time is it?” Yves said, breaking the silence.

“The sun is setting.”

“The night lions will be out, won’t they?”

“If not now, then soon.”

“They are strong. Lions are honourable.” He didn’t need to put words to what they both knew what he was saying. “Are they close?”

“Yes. Just outside the treeline.”

Yves climbed to his feet, swaying awkwardly once he was standing. Shahar grabbed his shoulder to keep him steady.

“How long of a walk?” Yvex asked.

“Not long.”

“Let’s get this over with, then. I don’t want to keep the Web waiting.”

A firm command to stay kept Snow from following them; Shahar’s gnosis would afford him safety, but the same could not be said for her.

Shahar took the Sapphire by the arm and guided him out of the cave. Akaidras looked up curiously, but when no signal came from his rider he dropped his head back down to nibble at the grass. Through the trees the two Drykas went, until the trees thinned and eventually gave way to open plains.

“Your eyes,” Yvex said. “Use your magic. You can see them, if you look.”

Shahar drew upon his power, feeling magic rush to his eyes as he gazed into the grassland. Slowly, small lights began to flicker into existence. Tiny mice. Rugged coyotes. He knew them by the patterns their trails did, but once he knew that, he could begin spotting differences in their trails. Some were larger, others smaller, different colors, but they were all trails. He could track by them.

And when he saw the thick, brilliant cord of something larger than all of them, he knew he had found what he was looking for.

The pride was lingering farther out in the plains, but the smell of Drykas brought them in quickly. They sensed Shahar’s Phylonura, and Yvex’s distinct lack of it.

“Is that them?” Yvex asked tensely. “I can hear something moving.”

“Yes, that’s them.”

“What do they look like?” the Sapphire asked breathlessly. “Tell me what you see.”

“They are like darkness, given form.” It felt somehow important that he tell Yvex the very best of what he saw, and to even embellish for his sake. “They see you, and they prowl around us. They move like water on four feet. Their eyes are the color of sunlight, and they glow as Syna goes to rest.” He paused. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” Yvex clenched his hands into fists. “Yes, I’m ready.”

Shahar stepped away. His movement was a silent admission to the lions; this man was not Caiyha’s, and was not out of their reach.

“Flint’s going to be the best,” Yvex said, breathing heavily. “His pups are going to have the eyes, too. They’ll be beautiful. They’ll be all the colors in the world.”

Shahar stepped away farther, and the lions came closer.

“His mate, she’s going to be the best, too, that thieving bitch!” His voice was rising to a shout. “Just you see! No prey will escape them!”

Shahar turned away as the lions closed in, affording the Sapphire the dignity of privacy. Low growls were rising under the speech, filling the night with hunger and excitement.

“He’ll be the best wolf you’ve ever seen, Witch! He’ll make it! He’s a survivor! The Windrivers will never die!”

There was a roar, and then the words stopped; the air was brought alive with competitive jostling and the crunching of bone, and the Web shivered as another soul returned to its fold.

Farewell, Yvex Windriver, Shahar thought to the world. The Windrivers will never die.

- End -