We had slept well and our bellies were full. Without the need to hunt, we traveled the whole night. We stayed off the road, and were far more cautious than we had previously been, but no Forged ones did we encounter. A large white moon silvered us a path through the trees. We moved as one creature, scarcely even thinking, save to catalog the scents we encountered and the sounds we heard. The icy determination that had seized me infected Nighteyes as well. I would not carelessly trumpet to him my intention, but we could think of it without focusing on it. It was a different sort of hunting urge, driven by a different sort of hunger. That night we walked the miles away beneath the moon's peering stare.

There was a soldier's logic to it, a strategy Verity would have approved. Will knew I lived. I did not know if he would reveal that to the others of the coterie, or even Regal. I suspected he hungered to drain off my Skill-strength as Justin and Serene had drained King Shrewd's. I suspected there would be an obscene ecstasy to such a theft of power, and that Will would wish to savor it alone. I was also fairly certain that he would search for me, determined to ferret me out no matter where I hid. He knew also that I was terrified of him. He would not expect me to come straight for him, determined to kill not only him and the coterie, but also Regal. My swift march toward Tradeford might be my best strategy for remaining hidden from him.

Farrow's reputation is for being as open as Buck is craggy and wooded. That first dawn found us in an unfamiliar type of forest, more open and deciduous. We bedded down for the day in a birch copse on a gentle hill overlooking open pasture. For the first time since the fight I took off my shirt and by daylight examined my shoulder where the club had connected. It was black-and-blue, and painful if I tried to lift my arm above my head. But that was all. Minor. Three years ago, I would have thought it a serious injury. I would have bathed it in cold water and poulticed it with herbs to hasten its healing. Now, although it purpled my whole shoulder and twinged whenever I moved it, it was only a bruise, and I left it to heal on its own. I smiled wryly to myself as I put my shirt back on.

Nighteyes was not patient as I looked at the slice in his shoulder. It was starting to close. As I pushed the hair back from the edges of the cut, he reached back suddenly and seized my wrist in his teeth. Not roughly, but firmly.

Let it alone. It will heal.

There's dirt in it.

He gave it a sniff and a thoughtful lick. Not that much.

Let me look at it.

You never just look. You poke.

Then sit still and let me poke at it.

He conceded, but not graciously. There were bits of grass stuck in it and these had to be plucked loose. More than once he grabbed at my wrist. Finally he rumbled at me in a way that let me know he'd had enough. I wasn't satisfied. He was barely tolerant of me putting some of Burrich's salve on it.

You worry about these things too much, he informed me irritably.

I hate that you are injured because of me. It's not right. This isn't the sort of life a wolf should lead. You should not be alone, wandering from place to place. You should be with a pack, hunting your territory, perhaps taking a mate someday.

Someday is someday, and maybe it will be or maybe it won't. This is a human thing, to worry about things that may or may not come to be. You can't eat the meat until you've killed it. Besides, I am not alone. We are together.

That is true. We are together. I lay down beside Nighteyes to sleep.

I thought of Molly. I resolutely put her out of my mind and tried to sleep. It was no good. I shifted about restlessly until Nighteyes growled, got up, stalked away from me, and lay down again. I sat up for a bit, staring down into a wooded valley. I knew I was close to a foolish decision. I refused to consider how completely foolish and reckless it was. I drew a breath, closed my eyes, and reached for Molly.

I had dreaded I might find her in another man's arms. I had feared I would hear her speak of me with loathing. Instead, I could not find her at all. Time and again, I centered my thoughts, summoned all my energies, and reached out for her. I was finally rewarded with a Skill image of Burrich thatching the roof of a cottage. He was shirtless and the summer sun had darkened him to the color of polished wood. Sweat ran down the back of his neck. He glanced down at someone below him and annoyance crossed his features. "I know, my lady. You could do it yourself, thank you very much. I also know I have enough worries without fearing that both of you will tumble off here."

Somewhere I panted with effort, and became aware of my own body again. I pushed myself away and reached for Burrich. I would at least let him know that I lived. I managed to find him, but I saw him through a fog. "Burrich!" I called to him. "Burrich, it's Fitz!" But his mind was closed and locked to me; I could not catch even a glimmer of his thoughts. I damned my erratic Skill ability, and reached again into the swirling clouds.

Verity stood before me, his arms crossed on his chest, shaking his head. His voice was no louder than a whisper of wind, and he stood so still I could scarcely see him. Yet I sensed he used great force to reach me. "Don't do this, boy," he warned me softly. "It will only hurt you." I was suddenly in a different place. He leaned with his back against a great slab of black stone and his face was lined with weariness. Verity rubbed at his temples as if pained. "I should not be doing this, either. But sometimes I so long for… Ah, well. Pay no mind. Know this, though. Some things are better not known, and the risks of Skilling right now are too great. If I can feel you and find you, so can another. He'll attack you any way he can. Don't bring them to his attention. He would not scruple to use them against you. Give them up, to protect them." He suddenly seemed a bit stronger. He smiled bitterly. "I know what it means to do that; to give them up to keep them safe. So did your father. You've the strength for it. Give it all up, boy. Just come to me. If you've still a mind to. Come to me, and I'll show you what can be done."

I awoke at midday. The full sunlight falling on my face had given me a headache, and I felt slightly shaky with it. I made a tiny fire, intending to brew some elfbark tea to steady myself. I forced myself to be sparing of my supply, using only one small piece of bark and the rest nettles. I had not expected to need it so often. I suspected I should conserve it; I might need it after I faced Regal's coterie. Now, there was an optimistic thought. Nighteyes opened his eyes to watch me for a bit, then dozed off again. I sat sipping my bitter tea and staring out over the countryside. The bizarre dream had made me homesick for a place and time when people had cared for me. I had left all that behind me. Well, not entirely. I sat beside Nighteyes and rested a hand on the wolf's shoulder. He shuddered his coat at the touch. Go to sleep, he told me grumpily.

You are all I have, I told him, full of melancholy.

He yawned lazily. And I am all you need. Now go to sleep. Sleeping is serious, he told me gravely. I smiled and stretched out again beside my wolf, one hand resting on his coat. He radiated the simple contentment of a full belly and sleeping in the warm sun. He was right. It was worth taking seriously. I closed my eyes and slept dreamlessly the rest of the day.

In the days and nights that followed, the nature of the countryside changed to open forests interspersed with wide grassland. Orchards and grainfields surrounded the towns. Once, long ago, I had traveled through Farrow. Then I had been with a caravan, and we had gone cross-country rather than following the river. I had been a confident young assassin on my way to an important murder. That trip had ended in my first real experience of Regal's treachery. I had barely survived it. Now once more I traveled across Farrow, looking forward to a murder at my journey's end. But this time I went alone and upriver, the man I would kill was my own uncle, and the killing was at my own behest. Sometimes I found that deeply satisfying. At other times, I found it frightening.