Matabar

The sun was just beginning its journey above the plains, bringing with it an unfamiliar sensation. Instead of towering mountains, the wooden rooftops of mismatched buildings stood all around him. Moving through the dusty streets, where the first townsfolk were already appearing, Ardi kept to the shadows of the houses. He dared not venture out into the open, unsure of how the local beasts... or rather, residents, might react to him.

"Good morning, Mrs. Foster," a middle-aged man tipped his amusing hat at a woman. Clad in blue clothing that looked both serious and well-worn — it had clearly been mended several times — he adjusted the leather satchel slung over his shoulder, from which paper scrolls Ardi had never seen before were nearly spilling out. They were white, with numerous pages covered all over in black ink, and they even contained a few pictures. "How’s your day starting?"

"Ah, Mr. Molinier," the lady smiled back at him as she was raising an awning over a stack of boxes. She wedged several poles into iron grooves painted with copper, then tugged on a rope, which made a wide roll of fabric unfurl, covering a peculiar... What was it called again... Oh, yes — a counter. Lifting the lids off the boxes, she began arranging various baked goods and, curiously enough, roots. These were not the tastiest or most nutritious food, to be honest. Ardi could’ve easily scrounged up something far more pleasant. "It sadly began as it always does: some people from the bank came by earlier, demanding payment."

"Have you not paid your dues on time?"

"That’s just it, I actually have," the lady sighed, adjusting a white apron she’d thrown over her worn coat. "But they claim I’m behind on my payments. I don’t know where they got that idea from. I’ll go sort it out by noon. But enough about me. Tell me, how fares the empire?"

They both laughed as if Mrs. Foster had just made an excellent joke, and perhaps she really had.

"That’ll be three kso from you, madame."

"Of course, Molinier," she deftly fished three small coins from her apron pocket and handed them to the man.

In return, he handed her a scroll. "Things are more or less the same, madame," Molinier tipped his amusing hat once more — it was like a truncated, upside-down bucket. "Some squabbles in the northwest — the Armondians are particularly eager to cross our borders this season."

Foster shook her head as she leafed through the scroll. "We’re changing our ambassador in Olikzasia and-"

"Oh, Molinier, you know how politics wear me out in the morning. And in the evening as well, to be honest. Why don’t you tell me what’s new in the capital instead?"

"Oh, madame," the man winked at her, "you’ll find all the gossip and news about those scoundrels on page seven. By the way, how much for one of your famous blueberry buns?"

"Blueberries in winter, Molinier?" The lady chuckled, then glanced at the not-so-busy street and turned the key in her shop’s door. "Though, I might have some summer stock left over. Come in, we’ll check together."

"Madame," the man tipped his hat a third time, and together, they disappeared into her shop.

These were very strange people, discussing equally strange topics. Moreover, Ardi seriously doubted that Mrs. Foster could have miraculously preserved blueberries from the summer. Even a miracle wouldn’t have sufficed for such a feat! It was a seasonal berry, after all.

Sniffing the air, the boy darted toward the shop, lowering his face toward the baked treats displayed on the counter. They looked suspiciously appetizing. And they gave off a sweet, hearty aroma. Also, since they were set out for everyone to see, they were clearly ownerless.

With lightning speed, Ardi snatched one, immediately leaping behind a corner and hiding in the shadows again. Sniffing it once more, he took his first bite. He chewed, swallowed, and...

Oh...

Ohhh!

These feelings were hard to describe. What was currently happening in Ardi’s mouth… It was as if he was simultaneously tasting the sweet roots of Wildleaf mixed with winter berries, and all of it crowned with something very sticky and spicy.

"Chocolate," the boy remembered the word.

And apparently, Molinier and Foster had indeed found some buns, as the sounds of obvious...

Ardi grimaced. No, those sounds belonged to a completely different activity. But it wasn’t spring yet! Or did things work differently for humans? Well, he could figure that out later.

Finishing off the bun, the boy licked his fingers clean and continued on his way. Sticking to the shadows, he observed the mysterious inhabitants of Evergale. Take, for example, a lean, short man with no hair on his head, who was dressed in light clothes covered by a white apron and had wide pants tucked into high boots. He was currently nailing a magical board to a wall. After all, how else could you explain that, despite being black, it somehow allowed symbols to be left on it in white sand that had been compressed into the shape of a finger?

"Mr. Barenby," another man greeted him. He was a stark contrast to the first man: heavyset, rotund, tall, and with red cheeks. "What’s for lunch today at the best tavern in town?"

"You mean the only tavern?" The lean man snorted. "Well, Mr. Eshler, the answer to your question depends on the answer to mine — has that shipment arrived yet? You know, the one for which, as I recall, I paid you seven exes last week?"

"The Polskih family promised me that they would process the last carcass by noon today, and then it will take me a few hours to butcher it. So, I hope we both get our due today."

"That slippery old Polskih," the thin man grumbled. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe. "What kind of person sells meat before it’s butchered and then also hires a butcher when you don’t even have a carcass for them to work on?"

The man named Eshler shrugged and tipped his hat just like Molinier had before heading down the street, where he also began fumbling with a key in a lock, muttering something about a carpenter.

Ardi squinted, struggling to read the sign above the lean man’s head. On a wide signboard, the words had been burned into the wood and then outlined with paint: "Barenby Family Café and Tavern," and farther down the street, above the building that the hefty man had disappeared into, the sign read: "Butcher Shop."

The meaning behind these unfamiliar words remained elusive to Ardi. So, he just moved on. He chose narrow alleyways where the strange lights on tall poles didn’t seem to reach and where there was no scent of dogs. The latter was particularly challenging. All of Evergale seemed to be littered with dog tracks and covered in their markings and smells. It wasn’t that Ardi couldn’t negotiate with them at all, it would just be tedious and time-consuming.

The path to his goal turned out to be quite winding.

"Anna!" A young boy ran down the street, dressed in thin, black clothes and covered with a gray coat. "Did you do the arithmetic assignment? I couldn’t get the fractions right."

"Good morning, Neviy," a girl walking down the street emphasized those first two words. Surprisingly, she was dressed in clothes very similar to the boy’s own. The only difference was that she wore a knitted scarf and a skirt, while Neviy wore pants and a cap. "And yes — I did do it. And you would’ve done it too if you hadn’t gone to the lake with Kevin, Olga and Faruh."

The boy threw up his hands and immediately yelped when the worn, cherry-red bag in his right hand smacked into the back of his head.

"Ouch," he rubbed the sore spot. "See? School hasn’t even started yet and I’m already hurting from arithmetic! And we did invite you to come with us!"

Anna turned away and stifled a laugh, then turned back with that same cold and stern look from before.

"And who would’ve done the arithmetic homework if I’d also gone there? I’m not letting you copy mine."

"But then how am I supposed to-"

"I’ll help you solve it!" The girl’s eyes flashed menacingly. "You’re not stupid, so use your head. And by the way, your fly is undone."

"Face of Light’s shit!"

"Don’t blaspheme!" Anna poked Neviy in the side as he fumbled with something on his pants, obviously struggling because of his thick mittens.

They walked off, soon blending into a crowd of other children dressed in those same clothes. Among them, Ardi spotted both the very young — those who hadn’t yet seen seven winters — and quite independent hunters... humans. They were surely fifteen winters and older.

It was odd to him that humans dressed their young in such strange attire and he wondered what "arithmetic" meant. Atta’nha had taught Ardi many arts and sciences: how to find his way by using the stars, the skill of seeing through the wind… She’d also taught him a lot of things about plants and beasts, as well as reading and writing, but arithmetic...

Moreover, Ardi noticed that many adults and every single one of their young were wearing these strange, wide bracelets on their right wrists, which peeked out from under their clothing. Sometimes, symbols appeared on them, but mostly, they looked like puzzling ornaments.

Shaking his head, the hunter moved on. He passed a large building, which stood somewhat apart, and toward which the line of children was heading. They were greeted by men and women in that same black, serious attire. And then, the bell in the tower above the building rang, and the doors were shut with a heavy latch.

Ardi shrugged and darted into the shadows.

The only building he immediately recognized was a tall structure made of white planks and adorned with a huge symbol of the sun. Several old women stood by the doors, sweeping the steps with brooms. What kind of shaman or spirit would force the old and sick females of their tribe to engage in such hard physical labor?

Ardi circled the building, and as he was about to disappear into the shadows again, he suddenly turned. He’d felt like someone on the second floor of this temple, or as the locals called it, this church, had been watching him. But apparently, his hunter’s instincts had deceived him, for there was no one at the windows. Even so, Ardi began to move slower and more cautiously after that.

Several times, he paused to take in some strange sights. Horses, unfamiliar with the language of their own kind, their eyes covered with blinders, were pulling wagons mounted on long poles. They slid easily over the snow, stopping at some houses to deliver various things: bundles, packages, and other items.

Shops were opening, and people were hanging up notices with strange writing.

Ardi studied the signs, trying to understand what was going on, but the unfamiliar words hid their knowledge from him. "Post Office," "Kitty’s Saloon," "Grocery Store," "Museum of the New Monarchy," "Town Hall," "Kay Brothers’ Blacksmith and Carpenter Shop," "Gursky’s Books…"

Ardi paused at that last one, but the sun was already brightly illuminating the street, so he decided not to risk being seen by the young man cleaning the windows.

All of these places, though nailed together from planks, with glass windows and colorful signs and awnings, looked more or less the same. Except for the building labeled "Sheriff," which was much sturdier, with iron bars on the windows and horses tied up nearby. And there was also the "Bourbon Company’s Armory," which didn’t differ much from the "Sheriff" building except in terms of size.

The sun had already taken several steps up, and yet Ardi had only just made his way through the town to its outskirts. There, the endless plains of snow-covered steppes and prairies stretched out like the waves of a frozen lake covered in sparkling snow. They reached all the way to the horizon, only occasionally turning into low, gentle hills. According to Kaishas’ stories, this was a land as harsh and dangerous as the Alcade, but equally, though in its own way, beautiful.

Ardi turned away and found himself standing at the edge of a low fence. Here, far from the center of Evergale, each house was hidden behind two-meter-high wooden boards. Such a barrier wouldn’t stop anyone determined to break in, but it did serve as a reminder of who owned this territory. Humans had a funny way of dividing land.

The lad closed his eyes and inhaled through his nose. Yes, he wasn’t wrong, this was the place that smelled like the house from his memories. He noticed the scent of baked goods, root and venison soup, fresh bread, and blackberry pie.

It smelled like his mother.

Ardi easily climbed over the fence and found himself in the yard. It was spacious enough to accommodate a couple of small, neat, two-story houses, but only one stood there. It had a porch made of black planks, with that familiar rocking chair under the awning. And there was a lantern with a tiny, oily flame flickering inside of it. On the other side of the windows, he could see curtains made of simple cloth, adorned with birds and butterflies. White smoke trailed from the chimney, blending with the snow brought by the wind.

The well-kept paths around the house, which had been paved with river stones, were slightly dusted with snow, but they were frequently cleared by the look of it. And in the distance, he spotted a shed. It was not like the one Ardi remembered, but still quite decent, though slightly askew.

Moreover, there was no smell of dogs or cats here, which was rather surprising — no, even abnormal — since Ardi had not come across a single house in all of Evergale that was not marked by a pet.

Only this one...

Ardi took a step forward and suddenly felt something in his chest. Something vaguely familiar. Something akin to what he’d felt whenever he’d returned to his teacher’s cave after his visits to the forest flows. The feeling he’d had when he’d been near Ergar. A bond both familial and not.

He felt an invisible thread tighten around his index finger and lead him forward. He circled the house, hiding in the retreating shadows of the sun, until he saw a small kitchen courtyard where a table and chairs would clearly be set out in the summer. He also saw a broad-shouldered man there, who was wrestling in the snow with a little boy of six. The child was struggling and pounding the man’s sides with his fists.

Ardi’s body reacted faster than his mind. He leaped forward, wrapping his arms around the stranger’s neck and trying, as Guta had taught him, to throw him over his own body. Unfortunately, his strength wasn’t enough to lift the adult male off the ground — only to push him away from the child and make him tumble to the side.

Oh, how Ardi regretted not having his faithful claws with him right then. But even without them, he’d take advantage of the fact that he had caught his prey off guard, and he wasn’t going to give up easily. Ardi tried to launch an elbow at the man’s throat, but the man dropped his chin as if he’d been expecting it, and Ardi’s elbow slipped to the side, slicing his lip open and spraying blood onto his face and the snow. The hunter, seeing that his prey would soon recover, spat in the man’s eyes, rolled over, and crawled behind him. He wrapped his legs around the man’s waist and moved his arms in a triangle around his neck.

He inhaled, exhaled, and then, as Guta had taught him, he tensed all his muscles and pulled back. It didn’t matter how much weaker he was than his prey. As long as he had the breathing advantage, he could overpower and finish his target and-

"Don’t touch my father!" Something metallic struck Ardi’s head.

He felt dizzy, his vision blurred, and for a moment, he loosened his grip. That was enough for his prey to break free and, wheezing, toss him aside. Ardi, flipping in the air, landed lightly on his toes and fingers and prepared to leap forward again. If he couldn’t use his hands, he would apply Ergar’s teachings and tear out his prey’s throat with his teeth.

But as he’d jumped, he’d looked into large, frightened, brown eyes. The eyes of the child who was holding a bloodied shovel and standing directly in front of his wheezing, rising prey. A child whose heartbeat matched Ardi’s.

The hunter landed in front of him and, crouching down, tilted his head to the side. The child did the same. Ardi extended his right hand, and the child extended his too.

Ardi blinked.

The child blinked.

They stared at each other, motionless.

"Erti," Ardi barely managed to utter.

"Who... who are you?" The child recoiled.

He was about to say more, but his prey, finally regaining his composure, jumped to his feet, stood in front of the child, and pulled out a metal rod with a wooden handle from his belt. It vaguely resembled the one Okta had had, only more... polished, with far more steel, and six holes arranged in a long drum.

The hammer clicked into place.

"No, Kelly! Stop!"

Kelly? That name sounded familiar.

A woman in a thin, long shirt ran out into the street. Her hair was streaked with gray. Wrinkles lined her face. She was much shorter and smaller than Ardi remembered her being, but... her black hair was still tied back in a tight braid. Her bright eyes still shone with the sky and the lakes. She smelled of... home and warmth.

She ran to him, collapsed beside him right in the snow, and hugged him tighter than even Guta could’ve managed. It was as if she were trying to absorb him. Every part of him. Every hint of his scent. Every moment of the life that had passed her by.

Ardi knew this because he hugged her just as tightly. Without letting go, without loosening his grip. He hugged her and cried quietly on her shoulder.

"M-m-mom," he whispered.

"Ardi," she held his head, her tears falling from her eyes and burning his face like liquid fire. "Ardi... my dear, dear Ardi. Finally..."

They stood there, embracing, oblivious to the world around them. And then, coughing, an old man in a heavy fur coat stepped out onto the veranda. He was leaning on a carved staff, his hunched back rising and falling in time with his labored breathing, his wrinkled hands trembling, but the gaze of his vertical pupils had remained as stern and clear as ever.

Shaia smiled, stepping away from her eldest son and reintroducing him to his grandfather.

But Ardi, who’d locked eyes with the old hunter, didn’t take a step forward.

"Hello, Grandson," his grandfather suddenly spoke in the language of Atta’nha, but in a way that...

The boy stifled a chuckle at first, then couldn’t help himself and burst out laughing. It was light, melodic, though tinged with a touch of tears.

"Hello, Grandpa," he replied, and now it was his grandfather who cawed like a raven, replacing his own laughter.

And then they locked arms. Without saying a word. They didn’t need to. As the last of their tribe, they had already said everything to each other. Much more than words could ever convey.

Grandpa stepped back and patted Ardi on the shoulders.

"I’m proud of you, grandson. Very proud."

"Thank you, Grandpa," then he turned and looked at Kelly. He remembered him. This was the man who had climbed the mountain six cycles ago, looking for his father. The Sheriff. Only now he looked older and was clearly favoring his right leg, and it wasn’t because of their small scuffle. "What is this man doing here? And why did Erti call him Father?"

Grandpa sighed and turned to Shaia. "There’s much you need to discuss with Ardi," he said in the language of humans.

"I-"

"Or maybe you should talk to me first?" Kelly interrupted, and Ardi hissed. Who did this... man think he was, interrupting his mother? "Damn it," Kelly’s hand twitched toward his revolver — that’s what that rod was called, Ardi recalled — but he stopped himself. Still shielding the child with his body, Kelly turned slightly, "Shaia, dear, can you explain what’s going on?"

Dear?

Ardi, growling low, was about to pounce on Kelly again, but Grandfather’s staff blocked his path. The hunter looked at the old man, who silently shook his head.

Shaia approached Ardi — Sleeping Spirits, only then did Ardi realize she was shorter than him now! — and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"This is Ardi," she said. "Hector’s son. My son. Brother to Erti and Kena."

Kena? Who was Kena? Sleeping Spirits, what the hell was going on here?

"Brother?" Came a voice from behind the man, and frightened, brown eyes peeked out. "I have a brother?"

"That’s a good question, Erta-"

"Silence, foolish human!" Ardi shouted. "Someone might hear you! What are you doing?"

"Damn it!" Kelly exclaimed. "By the Eternal Angels, I can’t understand a damn word this wildling is saying!"

"Mind your language, human," Grandpa cleared his throat. "His name is Ardi — you’ve already been told that. And he doesn’t want you to use his brother’s full name out loud."

"His brother..." Kelly repeated, rubbing his face with his hands, muttering something, then straightening up. "You told me that you and Hector only had one son, Shaia. That’s what you said."

Shaia and Grandpa exchanged glances, and Ardi, noticing his mother’s lips turning blue, quickly shrugged off his furs and wrapped them around her. Obviously, he had acted rashly. Kelly’s hand jerked to his revolver again, and Shaia’s eyes filled with tears.

"Oh, Ardi," she said, running her fingers over the marks he’d earned hunting and during Ergar’s lessons. "I never understood how Hector got all those scars..."

"Face of Light’s shit..." Kelly whispered.

Ardi frowned in confusion. Yes, he had a few scratches that would remind him of either his teacher’s lessons or his losses in games. So what? Even lynx cubs who hadn’t seen five seasons yet had far more. Besides, they’d all heal. All the marks he still carried were from the last two cycles. The rest had long since faded.

"They will heal, my dear," Grandpa seemed to echo his thoughts. And only he was looking at Ardi’s chest, where the blue symbol, left there by Ergar’s fang, stood out. It was as if... as if only he could see it. "In a couple of years, the scars will fade. Hector... He had different ones... Maybe we should go inside? Kena’s all alone and I don’t think she’ll be too happy to wake up and find her mother, food and replacement diapers missing."

"With all due respect, old man," Kelly began rather sharply. His thick eyebrows knitted over his gray eyes, and Ardi noticed a long, wide scar that went from his right ear down to his chin. It hadn’t been there six years ago, he was pretty sure. "This is my house. And I decide who does what and when. Now, Shaia, would you kindly tell me who this wildling... child is and why he tried to strangle me?"

"I not child," Ardi declared. "You attack brother. I defend. Now I take them with me. To home. To mountain. Farewell, fool human."

And the boy tugged at Shaia, but she didn’t budge.

"Attacking your brother," Kelly repeated, then snapped, "You thought I was harming Erta... Erti? Did you go completely wild while up on your mountain, Hector’s son? We were playing, wildling! P-l-a-y-i-n-g. Do you understand?"

Behind Kelly, Ertan, not taking his eyes off Ardi, nodded his head in agreement. Ardi tilted his head to look at them both. There was no trace of Kelly’s hands or fists on the boy, and as for the "foolish human," there were only the marks left by Ardi himself. And only Ertan’s flushed face and slightly trembling hands indicated that he had been... tickled. Not too hard or too long, either.

Ardi sighed and shook his head.

Well, he was bound to make mistakes sometimes.

As Skusty had often said, only those who never bend down never make mistakes. Whatever that meant, by the Sleeping Spirits.

"Sorry. Thought you attack. I defend brother."

"By the Face of Light," Kelly sighed. "I could’ve killed you, boy. Do you even think before you jump on armed adults? Wouldn’t it be great — Evergale’s Sheriff — a child killer."

"Kill? You me?" Ardi was genuinely surprised. "If brother not help you, I have snap you neck. Like duck. Weak neck. Easy prey."

Grandpa smiled upon hearing this, while Shaia looked at her eldest son in a new light. It was far from the way she had looked at him six years ago.

"So, he’s your son?" Kelly pretended not to understand what Ardi was telling him.

"Yes," Shaia nodded.

"And you didn’t tell me about him because..." Kelly waved his hand as if to summon someone.

"Because he’s been living in the mountains for the past six years."

Kelly even took a step back in shock.

"And may I, for the Light’s sake, know why?"

"It’s tradition," Grandpa replied curtly. "And now he’s returned."

"Yes, that much I can see," the sheriff grumbled, then closed his eyes and stood in silence for a few seconds. "Well, they should be giving me a raise for my years of service soon, so we should be able to support another... person. Food, clothes, plus school and..."

What was this man thinking? Ardi wasn’t old or sick, he didn’t need someone else to take care of him!

"I hunter," he slammed his fist into his chest. "I hunt myself. I make clothes myself. I walk myself. I think myself. I not need anyone help take care me. I take care others. Mother. My brother. Grandpa. Those who can’t hunt. You I not need."

Kelly looked at him, then at Shaia, then lifted Ertan onto his shoulders and headed for the porch.

"Let’s talk inside," he suggested. "Before half the neighbors gather to investigate the noise. The last thing we need is for ridiculous rumors to spread around town. And it’s getting cold."

Ardi couldn’t understand why, since he had now returned, they couldn’t go back to the mountain, but he decided to wait and see. Something very strange was happening here...

As they climbed onto the porch, Ardi tried to catch the child’s eye, but Ertan kept looking away, gripping the sheriff’s hand even tighter. The hunter had no idea why he smelled fear in his blood brother. After all, they were bound by the strongest and most reliable of bonds. Bonds that couldn’t be broken by one’s will or even the highest magic of the Sidhe. Ardi had read about it in some of Atta’nha’s old scrolls, but had understood little. In any case, such power was beyond the reach of mortals.

"Much has happened in these past few years, Ardi," Grandpa switched back to the language of the Fae. Ardi, who’d lent him his shoulder, was helping the old hunter climb onto the porch. "I was afraid you would take this harder."

Ardi watched as Kelly put his arm around his mother’s waist, and she didn’t pull away, but leaned in closer. Just looking at them made his chest ache, and his fists clenched so tightly that his nails almost cut into his flesh, but he was no longer a child.

"Father is dead," Ardi turned away. "Mother is beautiful and can bear more children, and it’s hard to live alone. People aren’t like... like..."

Grandpa looked at him, his eyes shining, and he nodded briefly.

"They rarely choose a mate for life, grandson. But don’t think too much of it — your mother always loved Hector and still does. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have stayed with her and Ertan."

Ardi stiffened and almost recoiled from his grandfather, which could have caused him to fall. He wanted to protest how easily the old hunter spoke his brother’s full name, but there was not enough time for that. They entered the house, and the first thing Ardi noticed was the familiar furniture that had once stood in their mountain home. Some of it was only similar, but some was exactly the same.

For example, the chest in the hallway where his brother, mother, and the sheriff left their shoes. And the heavy coat rack on the wall that had metal hooks. There were jackets and several fur coats hanging from it. They’d been made from simple skins, but were well-crafted and durable — far better than anything Ardi had ever managed to make.

Now he understood that his attempts at sewing had only been at all successful because he had often seen Shaia at work.

After passing through the spacious hallway, which was lit by strange glass candles with equally strange flames inside them, they entered the kitchen. It was much smaller than the one on the mountain, but spacious enough to hold the same table. It was massive, built out of logs and planks from a young oak. Moving a table of this size would be too much for just one person to manage.

Ardi turned to Kelly and looked him in the eyes. The sheriff didn’t avert his gaze or flinch.

"The Ranger’s property belonged to the authorities and was only his due to his contract with the Army of the New Monarchy," Kelly calmly answered the unspoken question. "But we only took what had been provided to the Egobar family over the past ten years. The rest was left untouched."

Ardi looked at the chest. No one had provided it. Hector had made it. Ardi remembered that all too well because they had worked on it together, when his father had shown him how to use a plane, an axe, and a chisel.

"I think you all have a lot to talk about," Kelly continued after an awkward pause. He hugged Ertan and kissed Shaia’s hair. "I’ll be upstairs with Er...ti and Kena. Call me when you’re done."

Shaia nodded, then looked at Grandpa.

He groaned, turned, and headed back to the porch, where his rocking chair was waiting for him.

After a few seconds, Ardi and Shaia were alone. Unaccustomed to it, the hunter managed to sit in the chair awkwardly, all the while resisting the urge to jump to the floor and stretch out comfortably. It had been a long time since he had used furniture...

For a time, Shaia just looked at him. She studied him carefully, with warmth and love in her eyes, which were now lined with a web of wrinkles.

"Are you hungry?"

Ardi turned to his senses. The bun he had eaten earlier hadn’t kept his hunger chained for long.

"Yes," he answered honestly.

Shaia nodded and went to the stove. Ardi couldn’t help but notice the thin, blue, shimmering inscriptions running across the metal box that was covered in white paint and had four cast-iron burners. They reminded him a little of the flames flickering in the glass candles.

"It’s a new invention by the scientists," Shaia began bustling around the cabinets, pulling out some metal utensils, dishes, and a few paper-wrapped items from a small icebox. "To be honest, I don’t know how it works. All I know is that the Ley Stone that powers it lasts a week, and they’re pretty expensive. So, we have to be careful. I cooked beef this morning, but you won’t eat the meat of a domestic animal."

She remembered... at least that much. A Matabar hunter would not eat game that had not had a chance to escape with its life. That was one of the laws of hunting.

"There’s leftover hare stew from yesterday, but it didn’t turn out too well. I think I salted it too much. Would you like some?"

Ardi nodded, not taking his eyes off the stove.

When Shaia turned the dial, some symbols glowed a little brighter, the stove hummed softly, and something lit up in a small box on the wall that Ardi hadn’t noticed before. It was from this box that the series of symbols extended to the stove.

Remarkable...

Even more remarkable was how casually Shaia handled it. She placed a heavy pot on the cast-iron disk, then pulled a small lever — one of four — and blue flames danced around the burner. Ardi tilted his head, trying to hear the whisper of the flame, but it was silent. As silent as the dead.

Or maybe he just couldn’t hear it? After all, there was no such thing as a dead fire.

Leaving the stew to warm up, Shaia pulled up a chair and sat down beside her son. She took off the furs he’d given her and wrapped them around Ardi again. The house was warm, even though the hunter could feel no fire burning anywhere.

"You have grown so much," Shaia said, running her hand over his cheek. "By the Eternal Angels... how I’ve missed you, Ardi."

"I’ve missed you too," Ardi nodded.

Even when Ergar’s words had hidden his human half from his heart, he’d still missed her in his dreams. He would forget about her in the mornings, but he’d still missed her all the same.

They fell silent again.

"Kena?" Ardi decided to break the silence, feeling a little awkward. "Who Kena?"

Shaia smiled faintly.

"That’s the name of your half-sister — my daughter with Kelly. She’ll be two years old this spring," she said with care and nodded toward the stairs. "She sleeps on the second floor. You’ll meet her later."

Sister? Ardi turned to his senses. He had found this house thanks to his connection to his brother and his mother, but as for a sister, he didn’t feel anything. Not at all.

"I don’t even know where to start," Shaia sighed and squeezed Ardi’s hand a little. She was literally refusing to let him go, as if she were afraid that if she blinked, her son would disappear again. "After that night... everything changed, Ardi. Living alone on the mountain was no longer possible, so we came down here. We rented a room from Mrs. Bayreg for a while. She had a saloon on the first floor, and Grandpa worked there as a bartender, but..."

At that moment, the lid of the pot rattled, and the stew began to spew greasy droplets. Shaia walked over to the stove, grabbed the pot by its handles with a glove, removed it from the flame, then ladled several spoonfuls of the meal into a bowl and set it on the table.

Ardi inhaled the aroma of potatoes, carrots, meat, herbs, and something else unfamiliar to him — probably some spices that didn’t grow in the Alcade. He turned to the spoon beside him and managed to remember how to hold it, though not on his first try. But holding it was one thing, eating with it was quite another. Especially hot food. At first, his mouth burned, then Ardi figured out he needed to blow on the food in the spoon, but he blew too hard, scattering it all over the table.

"It’s okay, son, it’s okay," Shaia, hiding her tear-filled eyes, grabbed a cloth and began cleaning the table. "You’ll remember everything...you will."

Ardi said nothing. He simply didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to feel, either. Here was his mother. He loved her and had missed her. So much so that it seemed as if his heart had forgotten how to beat normally and was now dancing in his chest, trying to burst out and embrace Shaia as well.

He should have felt at home, but at the same time...

"So," Shaia smiled as she finished cleaning up and sat down again. "We lived like this for about a year, and then Mrs. Bayreg got sick, and within a week, she was gone. The bank people came and..." Shaia fell silent and shook her head. "We were literally out on the street. For a while, there was enough money to rent a room for the three of us in the tavern, but Erti was still little and needed a lot of attention, and I was having trouble with my milk again, and so I couldn’t work much. Grandpa did what he could. He worked as a postman as long as his legs allowed it, and at night, he went out to the farm to look after the cattle, but his lungs gave out. And so..."

Shaia fell silent again. She didn’t notice how hard she had squeezed Ardi’s hand, her fingers turning white, but he took it quietly.

"And then I was lucky enough to get a job as a secretary for Sheriff Kelly Brian. At first, we just worked together, and then somehow... I lost my husband that night, and he lost his wife and his sister and her kids before that. Maybe that’s why we came together... At first, it was just friendship..." She sighed and shook her head. "I don’t know, Ardi. I don’t know how to say it. Don’t think that I ever stopped loving your father, it’s just... just... We got engaged in the third winter, and in the summer, we had a wedding, and little Kena was born. That’s how it happened. Now we live here."

Ardi stared ahead. He could see the bowl full of fragrant stew. He was holding a spoon in his hands, sitting on a chair, with a candle overhead. Its strange fire was still flickering inside it, the stove was still trembling slightly, its fire silent as the dead, and everything seemed normal. But despite that, he felt the same as he had six years ago. He no longer knew who he was, where he was, or what was around him.

"I tire," Ardi said, his voice slightly hoarse and trembling. "If Kelly not mind, I sleep his shed. Tomorrow, I find place live."

"What are you talking about?" Shaia exclaimed. "What shed, son? I’ll admit that we don’t have as much room here as we did on the mountain. Grandpa’s guest room is on the first floor because it’s hard for him to get up the stairs, and the second floor is where Kelly, Ertan, Kena, and I live, but last summer, I asked Kelly to insulate and fix up the attic. I had hoped," Shaia’s voice trembled, "I thought you would come back. I cleaned it up and left your things there. Shall we?"

Ardi looked at his mother, then shook his head.

"Ask Kelly. Kelly master this house. Must ask him."

Shaia sighed and rose from the table. Ardi, after a quick glance at the stew and the silly spoon, followed his mother. They walked down a long corridor whose walls were decorated with small pictures. They hadn’t been drawn by hand, but were like frozen scenes from memory — only they weren’t in color, but black and white. They were of Kelly, his mother, and Ertan.

In one of them, they were sledding on the lake. In another, they were picking flowers in the summer. One even showed them in the temple of the Face of Light, where they were performing some rite over his brother, pouring water on his head.

Then they climbed a sturdy, well-made staircase and found themselves on the second floor. Four doors led to three rooms and, judging by the faint, barely perceptible odor — to a human nose, anyway — to a privy. What was such a foul place doing on the second floor, and right next to the sleeping quarters?

What a strange tribe these humans were.

Shaia opened the nearest door just a crack. Not too wide, but enough for Ardi to see a small crib where a little girl lay, sleeping peacefully. She had chestnut hair, rosy skin, and clothes embroidered with stars.

Kelly stood in the doorway, blocking most of their view. A small, gray "bandage" clung to his upper lip — apparently to stop the bleeding.

"My mother husband," Ardi addressed him in a calm tone. He didn’t feel any particular dislike for the sheriff, but neither did he feel any respect for him. Just a touch of gratitude for taking care of his family and... something else. Something that pricked his heart every time he saw Kelly hugging his mother. Something a little angry and uncomfortable. Ardi didn’t know what that feeling was yet. "I ask you let I stay here. In attic. I quiet there. I not need food. I hunt."

"You can’t hunt, Ardi," Kelly told him. The hunter clenched his fists but remained silent. The rules of a tribe had to be learned first — Skusty would have advised that. "At least not legally. Your father was allowed to because he was a Ranger of the Alcade Reserve, but you don’t have a permit and you didn’t serve in the army," Kelly grinned as if making a joke. "Not to mention you’re not yet sixteen and still a minor."

Ardi couldn’t hold back a small hiss.

"I hunter. An adult. I decide."

"Ardi," Shaia stroked his hair. "Among humans, those under sixteen are considered children. They don’t even get documents."

"D-o-c-u-m-e-n-t-s?" Ardi frowned. "What ’d-o-c-u-m-e-n-t-s’ mean?"

Kelly pulled a leather purse, or something similar, from his pocket. He opened it and showed it to Ardi. Inside, under a metal clip on one side of the wallet, was a black and white picture of the sheriff’s face, his name, age, place of residence, and a few other symbols and numbers. On the other side was a medallion in the shape of crossed swords and a pistol, with a few more unknown symbols at the bottom.

"How I get d-o-c-u-m-e-n-t-s?" Ardi asked, handing the "documents" back.

"When you turn sixteen, they’ll give them to you," Kelly closed the leather purse and put it back in his pocket.

"Just cycle number?" Ardi frowned. "Weird human ritual become hunter."

"Well, that’s how it is," the sheriff shrugged. "You can’t hunt, I mean, you can’t hunt legally! I don’t doubt your abilities... But if you really want, I could talk to Timofey Polskih. I’ve been meaning to collect a debt from him. Here’s a good reason for that. And he always needs more help on the farm."

Ardi turned to Shaia, and she nodded slightly.

"All right," Ardi agreed. "I work farm. Deal?"

"One more little condition, Ardi," Kelly’s eyes twinkled. "You’ll go to school."

"S-c-h-o-o-l? What s-c-h-o-o-l?"

"A place where children... those under the age of sixteen learn to read, write and speak so that others don’t have to strain to understand them. I think it will be a useful place for you."

"But Kelly," Shaia held Ardi close. "The townspeople, they-"

"I’ll warn the parents at the next town meeting," the sheriff held up a hand. "I don’t think anyone will object. After all, if it hadn’t been for Hector that night, most of the townspeople would have lost their children. And we’ll give them time to get used to the idea, and Ardi some time to rest as well. It’s already the fifth day, and tomorrow is the last workday before the weekend, so we have time to buy him clothes, shoes, and school supplies. We’ll have to tighten our belts a bit next month, but..."

Kelly looked into Ardi’s eyes and the boy met his. Gray and clear, they resembled the eyes of an experienced hunter, one who knew the laws of the wilderness. Kelly wasn’t a bad man, and for some reason, Ardi didn’t like that. For some reason, he felt like it would’ve been easier if Sheriff Brian was a weakling, a coward, or a drunk. But he wasn’t. And what’s more, he obviously loved both Shaia and Ertan very much.

Which, though it was unclear why, made it all even worse.

The sheriff held out his hand to Ardi.

"Nice to meet you, Hector’s son. Let’s try to, if not become friends, then at least support each other, as we’ll be living close to those we both love."

He even said the right words. Almost like hunters said when they mixed tribes.

Ardi remembered this gesture. His father had taught him how to respond to it.

Ardi held out his hand and shook the sheriff’s. Kelly raised an eyebrow slightly, as if in surprise, then turned to Shaia.

"If you need any help, call me. I’ll be..." He cast a quick glance at someone Ardi couldn’t see but could sense, and not just by smell. Ertan was hiding behind the door. "I’m going to be here for a while."

"All right," Shaia nodded.

Ardi remained silent. He and his mother climbed up to the attic. There were no pictures here, and the walls weren’t covered with numerous layers of paint, revealing simple aspen planks. On the floor lay an old, worn rug — Ardi recognized it immediately. It had been in his room a long time ago. And there was a small chest under the only window, with a pile of furs thrown atop it.

It was a spacious room, but empty. And it was clean. Not a speck of dust, not a cobweb to be found. It had clearly been kept in order.

"Grandpa said you’d have to get used to it at first," Shaia hugged him again. "I wanted to put in a bed, a wardrobe, and a desk, but he insisted you wouldn’t know what to do with them. So, I could only keep the chest."

Ardi walked over to it and ran his fingers over the surface. A few notches he had accidentally made while learning to plane sticks were still there. The hunter lifted his eyes and looked out the window. It overlooked the backyard, hanging just above the awning of the back entrance. And from there, it provided a direct path to the roof — it was just a matter of grabbing the edge of the roof.

Grandpa had had the right idea.

"Rest, son. And I’ll prepare a little surprise for you."

Shaia, discreetly wiping her eyes, turned and opened the door, starting down the stairs as Ardi called out to her.

"Mom."

"Yes?"

"I love you."

Shaia smiled and sighed in relief.

"And I love you too. Now go to bed. By the Eternal Angels, you have the weariness of the world on your face."

And she walked away, leaving the hunter alone with his new den. Or was it proper to call it a room now?

Ardi looked out the window. The sun was rising over the Alcade, flooding the mountains and forests with light.

The sun, or the eye of the Spirit of the Day?

"And who am I now?" Ardi whispered in the language of the beasts.