Joycelyn cradled Kelton's head in her hands. It was the third time she tried to say goodbye, and always let the tears interfere. This time she was stoic as she kissed him on the forehead. Kelton wasn't sure what he should say or do. It was a new experience for him, and he didn't want to ruin it with the wrong response.

"I want you to worry about you, not us," Joycelyn whispered in his ear. "We will find our way with the Lord without you taking undue chances."

"You need not worry. I've lived in the forest for my whole life. No one will find us unless we want them too."

"You'll be hunted this time." Joycelyn's eyes focused on his. "You must run and stay far away from anyone. Listen to Gossamer and no one else."

"I will miss you," Kelton admitted. He was surprised at the smile that formed on Joycelyn's face. It was warmer than the smiles he had seen before.

"And I you." Joycelyn leaned closer to his ear. "If you find yourself in trouble, go to the nearest Nighthouse or anyone marked with the Wilted Rose. Tell them you are Kushiel's Answer and Joycelyn of Boyertown house is your witness."

"But I'm not..."

"It matters not what you are," Joycelyn continued. "It matters only that you live. You will find help before they realize that you only a wonderful boy. Promise me you'll remember."

"I'll remember, I promise."

"Sadly, that is all the help I can give. I hate leaving you so unprotected."

"You have a family."

"In my heart, you are part of that family now. I don't want any of my children to pass before their time." Joycelyn wrapped her arms around Kelton and hugged him close. She snickered as he stiffened. "This is where you put your arms around me," Joycelyn added. Kelton did. It felt good.

~~~~~

Gossamer and Kelton had been walking for the better part of the day in silence. Kelton could tell that the parting was hard on Gossamer as well. They were a family at dawn, and by sunrise, they felt alone, orphans in the world.

"It hurts some, saying goodbye," Kelton said, breaking the quiet.

"Nothing is as it should be," Gossamer replied. "A goodbye should be easy. Nothing more than words to recognize the parting. Instead, it feels ugly, like a curse on the future."

"We'll never see them again." Kelton's throat tightened as he put a voice to his mind.

"Most likely not." Gossamer sighed loudly. "But we are better off having known them. They are good people, and we are woefully short of those."

"Aye, good people," Kelton agreed. The silence returned, but Gossamer's words had lessened the weight of it. Kelton let his mind return to the memories, almost all good, of his brief family. A smile grew on his face as the two of them fought their way through the thickets that slowed their journey. They were avoiding the roads, traveling by the sun and Gossamer's memory of the land. It was hard going in places, but time was not an issue, hiding was.

The Lord had given them enough dried beef to last a few days, a week if necessary. A surprising gift driven by Joycelyn's urging. It allowed them to move without concern for foraging the first days, though Kelton didn't relish the return to the boring diet. Joycelyn had spoiled their tongues with flavor, even when the pickings were slight.

"No one around?" Gossamer asked when the sunlight began to disappear. The foliage blocked most of the waning light, making further traveling dangerous without a road at their feet.

"I feel nothing. I believe we've walked off the end of the world."

"My feet believe you," Gossamer said, adding a chuckle. "Let see if we can clear some space before it's too dark. A small fire should be okay."

The camp was rudimentary at best. Tree roots and half-buried rocks made for an uncomfortable place to sit, much less a bed. Kelton laid his pack on the ground and found sitting on it was less painful. He scavenged fallen wood, struggling to find some above the ground where the thick foliage didn't hide it from the day's sun. The wood below was too moist, though it had been many days since the last rain. It was well dark by the time the flint ignited the kindling.

"How many days before we allow ourselves to be seen?" Kelton asked.

"Ten, mayhap more. We need to fully separate from the Lord's land and traveling through this mess takes time. Too soon, and it becomes his responsibility to track us down. The man has a merciful streak, but I'd hate to face his tracking mind."

"I thought him practical, not merciful."

"I think he's a bit of both. He gave more than he had too."

"He promised more and gave little," Kelton said. "I have a fear growing, that he may not keep those promises."

"Trust is hard, but what choice do we have?"

"None," Kelton agreed, biting into a bit of beef. His thoughts drifted back to Joycelyn's family and all the possible things that could go wrong. He felt responsible for them. Joycelyn's words did little to allay his guilt of stalling them that fateful night. There was no way to know if they would have been found by the Brother either way. Then again, he would never have known them without the delay. He liked knowing them. A smile crossed his lips. He liked them knowing him. There were people besides Gossamer that cared he existed. It was worth more than gold.

"You're thinking of them," Gossamer surmised.

"They know me. The only ones beside you." Gossamer smiled at Kelton's words.

"And they won't forget you either. You make a good impression. I would guess Rebecca still has tears about the parting."

"I am glad she wasn't chosen." Kelton paused a moment then added. "I'm glad I killed the Brother, though it still haunts me some."

"It was a risk I am proud you took. If you had listened to me and returned to camp that day, they would have been killed, and Rebecca's fate unknown." Gossamer looked at Kelton, his lips stiffening. "I thought we were done for. Know that it is doubtful the Brethren will allow it to be repeated."

"Next time I'll throw up first," Kelton said. Gossamer tried not to laugh, and failed. Kelton joined him, happy for the first time that day.

"I'll have to add that to my stories. A demon drowned in half-digested stew."

"It was all your fault, you know," Kelton said. "All those stories made it sound simple. You fight the wrong, and in the end you are victorious. You made it sound so effortless, so clear. There were no decisions, and the victory assured a better world, the hero finding joy in the task." Kelton shook his head, laughter gone. "It was not that way. The deed was as bad as the reason for it. I feel worse for having done it, though I would do it again. There is no right to it."

"You've done more than you know. Your story will last for years, giving folks a little hope."

"Do you think they'll leave out the retching?"

"Most certainly not," Gossamer replied. Laughter again chased away the melancholy. The talk turned lighter, trading memories of the silly things that happened when they were a family. It was a pleasant way to chew up some of the night. Exhaustion finally allowed them to ignore the uncomfortable accommodations and find their sleep.

It was six days of grueling travel before Kelton felt someone besides Gossamer. They had only crossed a few rarely used trails and had yet to run into another soul. So used to isolation, the feeling surprised him, as much as the bird breaking from the bush had earlier that morning.

"Three, though one doesn't feel right. Mayhap four," Kelton whispered. One felt thicker to him. Not fat, but louder than only one should be. He pointed to what he thought was the west. "Fifty paces," he added with an unconfident shrug of his shoulders.

"We'll steer clear," Gossamer returned, pointing toward an unfavorable incline north-east. Kelton nodded and followed. They moved slowly, avoiding the deadfall that might snap and give them away.

"No!" It was a woman's voice. Kelton stopped and turned his head to better align his ears toward the sound. The word was apprehensive, or at least he felt so. Gossamer pursed his lips and angrily waved him to follow.

"It is already forfeit, woman," A gruff voice announced. "It matters little to us if you are standing at the end of it. Give it to me and move on, and be thankful you can."

"No!" the woman repeated. This time the word held panic. Gossamer moved back to Kelton and grabbed his arm and tried to pull him along. Kelton brushed his hand off.

"Come," Gossamer ordered quietly. "It is not our business." Kelton sighed, nodded, and began moving up the incline again.

"Be it your way," the gruff voice said. There was a scream, and Kelton felt the thicker person separate from the other two, running.

"Do nothing to hurt the babe," another male voice shouted.

Kelton felt the chase progress and knew it would end shortly. The thick one was a woman and child. The separation of the two souls became obvious once the context was added. The memory of Rebecca screaming his name, as she helplessly pulled against the Brother knotted his gut. He could not ignore it. He looked at Gossamer, who had stopped as well.

"I...I can't" Kelton said and bounded over a log, and through the only gap he could find in the forest growth. He moved directly toward the woman and knew he'd barely make it before the two men collided with her. Gossamer grunted behind him. Kelton could almost feel Gossamers anger as he drew his sword from his pack.

Kelton screamed as he burst from the trees onto a trail, barely wide enough for a wagon to pass. The noise had halted the pursuit. The woman fell to the ground, and two poorly dressed men stood two arm lengths away with rusty daggers drawn. Kelton wondered if he looked as foul they. Their hair was ragged, one greasy brown, the other an oily black. A deep scar ran down the black-haired face, from the edge of his eye to the corner of his lip. Brown haired was missing his left hand. It looked as if they had just recently dug themselves out of a grave, almost as if years of forest grime had grown into them.

"It is the red-haired pup," Black said, thrusting his blade forward in the air. "You be worth more than the babe."

"They are looking for one such as you," Brown added. He moved about, creating distance between himself and his partner. They meant to attack. Kelton's longer blade was doing little to instill fear in the men. The men's confident smiles were having no trouble instilling fear in Kelton.

Kelton brought his mind back to his training. His feet began to move on their own, his weight shifting to the balls of his feet. His sword began to move, swaying in small motions so perceived openings were constantly changing and control remained. He knew he should attack before they were both ready, but fear made him wait to counter. It was Gossamer who altered the balance.

The war cry came as Gossamer's, and his blade, burst from the trees. Black raised his arm to block the descending blow. It caught him in the back of his hand, and he screamed as he lost his blade with the use of the hand.

Kelton moved, remembering Gossamer's talk of momentum. Battles, no matter how small, must be pressed once the pressure has been applied. To do otherwise is to admit defeat. He stepped toward Brown, stabbing weakly at his chest. It was but a feint to bring the man's blade center and high. Kelton dropped low as he was taught, swinging at the man's forgotten legs. His sword dug deep into the right calf sending the man to his knees. Kelton rose and hesitated.

"Now!" Gossamer yelled. Kelton's blade drove itself into the man's chest, the motion somehow disconnected with the intent. Blood flowed from Brown's mouth, spilling down his chin as the light left his eyes. He fell to the side. It took all of Kelton's strength to not let the blade follow him down.

"You do not pause, you do not ponder the Goddess, you do not waver in your path," Gossamer yelled. He was pulling at the front of Kelton's shirt as if he meant to hit him. "You choose to be stupid, involve yourself in business not your own. Fine! Then you commit to it." Kelton had never seen Gossamer so angry. His face was speckled red, blood from Black, eyes wide as if they meant to devour Kelton. Kelton looked over Gossamer's shoulder. Black's body was headless. Kelton's stomach lurched.

"We don't even know the right of it," Gossamer said, his voice quieting. Kelton could feel Gossamer's hand shaking as it relaxed and let go of his shirt. Kelton's choice had made Gossamer kill. He could see the pain of it in Gossamer's face.

"I'm sorry." Kelton's innards twisted. He tried to force the image of Brown's dying from his mind.

"As am I," Gossamer said, his breathing slowing. He patted Kelton on the shoulder, a motion that Kelton found reassuring. For a moment, Kelton had feared he ruined things between them. "See, the one you thought to save is leaving without a word." Kelton turned and saw the woman attempting to crawl away using one hand, the other cradling a bundle beneath her.

"You need not skulk away woman," Gossamer called out. "This one was playing hero or fool depending upon the circumstances. Either way, we are no threat to you."

"Or your babe," Kelton added.

The woman froze for a moment, then slowly turned to sit on the edge of the path. Both her arms wrapped around her bundle. She was older than Kelton, but still had a face of youth. Her dark eyes were streaming tears.

"You can have me if you must," the woman stuttered. "I ask that you spare my child. He's a sickly thing, not worth selling. Your effort is wasted there." Kelton had never seen someone so lost.

"My lady," Gossamer said. The storyteller had returned, bloody though he was. He sheathed his sword back into his pack and bowed in respect. "Though the offer is tempting, I prefer my women to be uncompromised. As for your child, well I already have a headstrong one here. I would no sooner sell him than yours."

"But, he's the red demon," the woman said, pointing at Kelton. Kelton's face went white. Bile began to rise again.

"I'm...I'm, what?" Kelton stuttered. He took a step toward her. She paled, her lips strained, and she struggled to scoot away. He realized he still had his blade out.

"I mean no offense," the woman said. More tears emerged, and she resecured the child in her arms. The fear was thick around her.

"And I mean you no harm," Kelton said as he let his blade drop to the ground. He showed her his palms and took a step backward.

"You kill all who you meet," the woman said. Her eyes traveled to the two dead men on the trail, then focused with terror back on Kelton. He took another step backward, the only thing he could think of to lower the woman's fear. His foot slid in a patch of unexpected mud. He looked down and saw it was made of blood. The bile finished its trip up his throat. He barely made it to the edge of the trail and kneeled. There wasn't enough food in him. The pain surged from his abdomen, his stomach pulsing in it's attempts to eject what wasn't there.

"As you can see," Gossamer said, pointing at Kelton, "he makes a poor demon. The fact that I am alive disproves that he kills all he meets." Gossamer sighed and moved toward Kelton, rubbing his back to hopefully diminish the battle fear. "Though he might get me killed if he insists on jumping into the middle of every disagreement."

"Is he sickly?" the woman asked. The fear had left her words and was replaced with concern. Kelton tried to answer but was met with another surge from his intestines.

"Only of death. He has no stomach for it, though he seems to forget when he desires to save the world. He's a fool who thinks only of the now."

"Mayhap, he's sick of a father who chides him so," the woman said as she rose from the road. There was more confidence in her voice. "Bravery is not foolery. Tis your job to guide it, not belittle it." Gossamer tried to stifle a chuckle.

"I see now I owe you much. Forgive my first words. The dread had hold of me and mixed with stories the soldiers tell." The woman moved to Kelton and kneeled aside him. "What is your name?"

"Kelton," he answered, still struggling to still his stomach.

"I am Marnice, and this is Zachary." She lowered the child to Kelton's eyes. Wide eyes met his. They scanned his face with an innocent interest Kelton had never seen before. It was the first babe he had seen up close. His stomach went quiet when Zachary smiled.

"I'm known as Gossamer." Marnice ignored Gossamer's words and used her free hand to pull Kelton to his feet. Kelton wiped his mouth on his sleeve, then cleared the water from his eyes.

"There," Marnice said. Her hand went to his head, pushing back the sweaty hair from his face. "When's the last time you ate?" Gossamer was about to answer, but the glare from Marnice told him it wasn't his question.

"Day ago," Kelton replied. He stood taller, and his stomach finished relaxing. "We meant to make camp and hunt before sundown."

"I'm to meet my brother at his farm down the way," Marnice said, pointing down the trail. "A meal I can promise, and mayhap a bath. You smell worse than when Zachary is soiled." The smile on her face told Kelton it wasn't meant as an insult, only the truth.

"Kelton, we can not," Gossamer said.

"We will trade our secrets on the way," Marnice said. She tucked her arm in Kelton's and lead him down the trail. "You will see we both share risk. Friends are made this way." Gossamer sighed, picked up Kelton's sword and followed. They moved around a bend and Marnice slowed. She surprised Kelton by shifting Zachery into his arms.

"He's so light," Kelton said.

"Aye, and helpless. You will guard him a moment while I have words with your father." Marnice said.

"With my life," Kelton said, returning the smile that Zachary gave him. He was mesmerized by the bond that grew. It was if Zachary needed no more information than Kelton's face to know he had a friend. Kelton didn't need any more than Zachary's smile to know he had found a brother. Gossamer handed Kelton his sword. He sheathed it and sat, cradling Zachary in his legs. He barely noticed Gossamer and Marnice heading back the way they had come.