Afi stepped out of the bedroom just in time to see Sylvia faint. He rushed forward, checking her head for injuries. Luckily, it did not seem that she had struck the ground very hard. Looking into the next room, he saw the bodies of an adolescent woman and a little girl. His face contorted in disgust. No one deserved an end that cruel, and especially not an innocent child.

Afi averted his eyes. He knew that he had plenty of blood on his hands, but this…this had nothing to do with justice, or even with revenge. This was pure evil. Did Björn know about this? Was he aware that these sorts of things happened under his command? Afi knew he would not be able to ask. A sharp pain struck his chest. He gritted his teeth and inhaled forcefully. There was no point in contemplating his betrayal. It was done.

Afi turned Sylvia onto her side to ensure she could breathe freely. Then he got up and stepped into the small bedroom. Finding sheets under these beds as well, he wrapped each girl into one. He picked them up and carefully placed them in the two beds. He had no idea if it was the correct order, but it was better than the floor at least. After making sure each body lay in proper resting pose, he stood back and sighed deeply. Such a waste of life. Such a waste of soul.

He returned to the hallway and checked on Sylvia. She was still limp. Had she hit her head after all? Whatever the underlying issue, it was likely a bad sign that she did not rouse. Scooping Sylvia up in his arms, Afi carried her downstairs and lay her out on the kitchen table. He fetched the water skin. Wetting his fingers, he flicked drops onto Sylvia’s face. There was no reaction. This was definitely not good. Bewildered, Afi took Sylvia's shoulders and shook her. Of course, that did not work. He checked her head for injuries again. Nothing.

Afi was not quite sure what to do. He looked around the house for…for what exactly, he could not say. Sylvia had said something about a doll and a knife. He could look for those. He searched the entire kitchen, but found nothing of use. Heading upstairs, he looked around again. In the parents’ room nothing much was left. Glancing across the second room, he noticed a doll sitting on the windowsill. Perhaps this was the one Sylvia had mentioned. Picking it up, Afi dipped his head toward the dead girls. Either way, they would not have much use of the toy any more. In the hallway, he found a discrete ladder, which led him under the roof. Clearly, the Wolves who had raided the farm had found the attic as well. It was nearly empty. A small room in the back held a bed, but nothing else. Having nothing left to explore, Afi returned to the kitchen.

Seeing Sylvia prone on the kitchen table, Afi was overcome by worry. It clawed at his shoulders, scrambling for hold. First then did he realise that his bond was weakening. He had not felt his soul strive toward Sylvia for the past couple of minutes, not before he came back into this room. This was his chance! If he left now, he might be able to get so far away that not even his oath could tell Sylvia where he was. He could run away and weaken the constant nagging in his soul. He could be free.

Afi turned on his heel and opened the door. It was raining ever harder. It would be better to wait it out, but he was in a hurry. When Sylvia woke up, he had to be far away. Walking to the stables, he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He had the water skin, some remnants of food, and even a tent. This would be easy. In his attempt to find passage north, he had learned a fair bit about the lay of the land. He knew which roads he could take. This time, he was not going to cross paths with the Fri. The river East Cut was close. A few days on a strong horse like Rise was all it took. He could take Natta, too, sell the steed, and have money left after paying his fare.

Opening a saddle bag to put the water skin away, Afi paused. In the bag lay the stonemoss they had gathered together. Sylvia's laughter echoed through his memory. Clenching his jaw, he stowed the water skin away and closed the bag.

“If I did not trust him, I would not have taken him under oath in the first place.”

Afi shook his head to chase Sylvia’s voice from his mind. This was his one chance to regain his freedom. He had to get away. Despite his soul’s painful protest, he took a hold of the saddle. Instead of leaving him alone, a second voice joined in, laughing cheerfully. Though it was a voice from the past, it was more than a memory. It was as clear and real as anything could be. It echoed through his head.

“Look! Father, look! What a funny looking stone!”

Afi groaned. “Go away.”

The voice began to whimper. Then she cried. Finally, she pleaded, begged for his help.

Afi gasped. “Shut up.”

“I will kill you!”, Sylvia yelled.

Afi closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Rise’s warm side. “Fine. Just stop. Please. Be quiet.”

As suddenly as they had appeared, the voices disappeared again. Only the sound of the rain pattering onto the stable roof was echoing through the room now.

Rise snorted at the human leaning against her.

“I know. I know. I have to protect her.” Groaning, Afi stood straight. “Dammit!”

As much as he would have liked to be rid of all of this, of the responsibilities of a sworn, and the danger of being surrounded by warriors who hated his guts, he could not do it. Sylvia not only saved him, she welcomed him. He would not have bound his soul if he had been offered an alternative, but in the end it was he who had picked Sylvia that day at the market. What was the point of saving her in the first place if he left her to die now? They may be even in their exchange of a life for a life, but they were not even in Afi’s eyes. They would never be. She was his last chance to be something else, something other than a Wolf, other than a failed father.

He had to figure out a way to get Sylvia back to the Fri as soon as possible. If anyone would help her, it was them. But what was to say they would not have his head for failing to protect Sylvia? Pacing around the stables, Afi considered his options. Staying at the farm, they would have plenty of bitterleaf to eat, but he had no idea how to nurse Sylvia while she was unconscious. Going in a different direction to find help would not do him any good, either, since he had no proof of his status as a sworn. He did not even have a sword. All he had was a Wolf brand and an unconscious woman. It was not a favourable look. He did not have the money to pay for anonymity, either. No. There was no alternative. He had to return to the caravan, and that as soon as humanly possible. He just hoped they would have the patience for an explanation.

How to transport Sylvia, though? Looking around, he spotted a coil of slender rope, and an idea came to him. Tying the rope around the barn door and fastening it to Natta’s saddle, he let the horse rip the door from its hinges. It would have to do as a makeshift sled. A few long sticks, and a clever crossing of rope and tight knots, and Natta could pull it. Going back into the farm house, Afi picked Sylvia from the table.

Cradling the unconscious woman in his arms, Afi shook his head. “I am so sorry.”

He lay Sylvia down on the barn door sled. Natta bent his neck to glance at Sylvia and nickered.

“She is yours to bring home”, Afi said.

Using the blanket to keep Sylvia warm and safe, Afi finally tied the last rope around her, to keep her in place. He just hoped the construction would hold all the way back. They would be much slower this way, and unable to avoid the roads. Praying that they would not encounter anyone, and that they would meet the caravan before nightfall, Afi set out.

Despite making remarkably good time, Afi was increasingly nervous when he neared the coast. When he spotted the Fri camp, his stomach nearly turned. He glanced back at Sylvia. The sled had to be a bumpy ride, but it was the best he could do in a hurry. He just hoped the blanket had managed to keep the rain away. Natta was moving in an even stride, careful and inexhaustible, as though understanding fully the importance of this delivery. Nearing the camp, Afi could see one of the guards stand up. The man held a hand to his forehead to shield his eyes and get a better look at the approaching figures.

“Sylvia Fri returning!”

By the time Afi was close enough for eye contact, Yri already stood at the circle of carts. Her eyes found Sylvia, and then her gaze shot to Afi with murderous intent. Afi’s instincts screamed at him to run, to turn Rise around and ride for his life, but a dull ache in his chest reminded him why he could not do that. Even if the odds had not been stacked against him in a second chase, he could not leave Sylvia. If he left, then what was it all for? Bracing for the worst, he came to a halt and slid out of his saddle.

Yri struck him with the back of her hand. Pain flared across his face and he toppled to the ground. “What did you do?!”, Yri spat. Before he had a chance to answer, she kicked at him for good measure. “I should free your pathetic body from its useless head!”

“What happened?”, another voice asked calmly.

Afi and Yri looked up. Aimo was slowly making his way past the both of them. He crouched down beside Sylvia and inspected her face, before beginning to untie the ropes that held her to the crude wooden sled.

“She fainted. I think she hit her head”, Afi answered.

“Fainted? Why is that?”, Aimo wondered.

“Her…”, Afi began. He stopped himself and instead said, “She saw something horrible and fainted.”

“What did she see?”

Afi shook his head. “It is not for me to say.”

Aimo nodded in understanding. Carefully, he wrapped the blanket tighter around Sylvia. “Carry her for me”, he instructed.

Afi looked up at Yri hesitantly.

“You heard him, Rat!”, she spat.

Getting to his feet, Afi scraped the worst of the mud from his tunic and then lifted Sylvia, gathering her into his arms like a little child. The horses instinctively followed him around the camp. Walking by a few tents, he tired to ignore the way people looked at him. There was confusion and anger among the Fri, and he could not blame them. Keeping his head low, he simply kept walking until they reached Aimo’s wagon. The wagoner climbed inside and took Sylvia from Afi’s arms. Then he closed the door.

When Afi turned away, Yri grabbed his arm. “Where do you think you are going?”

“To set up the tent”, Afi answered.

Yri shook her head. “Oh no. You are going to stay right here in the mud where you belong. Keep guard over your liege. Let us see if you can get it right at least this one time.”

Afi repressed a sigh. The Fri really were hotheaded. He had done nothing wrong. Yri had heard his explanation, yet she treated him like he had hurt Sylvia himself. He had not expected any thanks for his effort to return Sylvia, but to leave him in the rain seemed excessive. Even among Wolves, they would have suspended judgement until his liege was awake, and could make her own determination about what punishment was appropriate. But such was not the Fri way.

Sealing his disappointment deep into his chest, Afi nodded. “May I feed the horses first? We have been on the road for two days.”

Yri glared at him. “The horses, yes. Rats, no. If I see you as much as glance at food, I will personally cut your tongue out.”

Afi bowed his head. “Yes, Fri.”

Yri spat at his feet before taking her leave.

Grumbling to himself, Afi pointedly avoided looking at the saddle bag which held the last cheese and bread. After grooming and feeding Rise and Natta, he sat down beside Aimo’s wagon. He avoided the obvious puddle, but it did not help much. The moisture crept from the ground and up through his trousers. No longer protected under the canopy of trees, the rain seeped through his tunic. By sunset, he was shivering.

Rise came to Afi’s side and lay down, huffing at him.

Shifting closer, Afi leaned against the large warm body. He ran a hand through her mane. “Thank you.”