"The river should come out on a clearing, somewhere ahead; I can already hear it." Henry made his way back to where he had left the sleigh with Thanatos and pulled it along.

Thanatos nodded, desperately clinging to the edges of the construction as they emerged from the dense foliage and at last caught sight of the shimmering water. They had agreed that it may be best to follow along the river's course if they had no other direction. So, they had traveled for two days without running out of sustenance or water and clung to the hope that it might lead toward the nibbler colony's hot spring.

On the clearing, they settled to eat and break, as Thanatos still insisted that Henry should not strain himself too much yet.

"I should swap out our bandages," pondered Henry. "It is so obnoxiously hot." He poured the contents of his freshly refilled water bag over his head, then filled it up again. "Think you we may reach the edge of the jungle without notable complications altogether?"

"No," said Thanatos sourly. "Because I call that ambush of hoppers yesterday a complication."

"Oh please." Henry waved dismissively. "That was merely an invitation to have one of them for dinner in place of the fish. You know, perhaps Hamnet was onto something after all when he deemed the jungle a suitable place to settle down."

"I am not settling down in the jungle."

"Take ease!" Henry laughed. "I am not suggesting that. I merely meant that a prolonged stay may not be so—"

Their heads shot up in unison as Henry's mind was jolted by a sharp alarm. He scowled and attempted to make sense of the disorienting image his echolocation was transmitting, but then he already sensed a surge of warm breath on his back . . . They were surrounded.

Ever so slowly, he inched around, hand on Mys' handle at all times, and stared into five pairs of yellow eyes.

"What seek you in our land?" The largest hisser stepped forth, his colorful ruff twitching. Henry staggered a step back and watched him sink back onto all fours; even like so, he was taller than Henry.

Then he screamed when something poked him in the side. He had not paid attention, and . . . "You friend?" Henry stared down at the round, bright red face of a baby hisser around half his size, who playfully poked him again. "Friend?"

"We are friendly," confirmed Thanatos, dragging himself closer to the adult hisser. "Pardon our intruding, but we are merely passing through."

Five adults had now emerged into the clearing, and although none of them matched the size of the presumed leader, they all had their ruffs open. Their bodies glimmered in a variety of colors, ranging from yellow to orange, green, and blue. Among them, he caught sight of more young ones, who were now poking their heads out with curiosity.

Nervously, Henry's gaze met that of Thanatos. He had never engaged with the hissers, except for Frill, and their conversations had been brief and superficial. Yet, Hamnet had assured him that she shared his pacifist ideals and even encouraged them. And so Henry forced himself to release Mys' handle. I have a talent for talking my way out of nearly anything. Was it now his time to act on his claim?

"My flier is injured, and we . . . are lost," he admitted after a brief moment of hesitation. "We are hoping to find our way to the nibbler colony that lives near the Vineyard of Eyes; they are our friends. But we have little idea as to where to go. If you would point us in the correct direction, we would be grateful."

"Far off track have you wandered if that is your goal," said the blue hisser, slowly putting on his ruff. "Nibblers live much further south. We see your injuries and your distress, but also your sincerity." He turned to a deep red hisser with leaner, softer features who had stepped at his side; the pup who had greeted Henry earlier capered toward who he presumed was his mother to hide between her legs. The two exchanged a few words in their language, then the leader turned back to him. "We may take you to the nibblers. The path is dangerous for one unfamiliar with the land."

A relieved smile broke on Henry's face, and he fished for his backpack. "Oh, we would be beyond grateful. We may reward you handsomely if—"

"No need for your goods we have," the hisser cut him off. "The jungle gives us all we need. We help because it costs nothing to help. And the land there is as good a place to stay awhile as any."

"We would be in your debt," said Thanatos with a respectful nod.

The blue hisser gave them a nod in return. "They friends!" squealed the pup, overjoyed, and Henry raised his hand to salute him atop his mother's back.

"I am . . ." He pondered. "We are the Death Rider. Have you all names we may call you by?"

***

"Look here!" Henry twirled Mys, removing the last unsightly bone segment that marred the appearance of the figurine he had been crafting for the past three days. Then he gave Thanatos, who rode behind him on the back of a greenish hisser named Kell, a nudge. "It is done."

"Oh, are you finally showing me?" Thanatos perked up.

"It would have been done sooner." Henry inspected his figurine one last time, then stuck Mys back into his belt and extended it in Thanatos' direction. "But I had not as much time to work on it as one would think, among such a tranquil band of travelers."

The leader of the hissers, who had introduced himself as Larr, had delivered on his promise to accompany them dutifully. Henry flashed back to the grove infested with mites that they had narrowly avoided. The hissers had, being aware of the danger, prevented them from getting close, as their sting would result in swift death. Then, they had nearly run out onto a seemingly safe clearing, only to discover that it was actually a massive trapping plant awaiting unsuspecting creatures to unknowingly enter its jaws.

Just this once, Henry felt no shame in admitting they wouldn't have come remotely this far without aid.

Thanatos opened his mouth to reply, but then he caught sight of the figurine Henry held out and fell silent. "Incredible," he said, awestruck. "Kismet mentioned that you had picked up carving, but she did not say that you were this good. You must show Noar. He will be amazed."

"Why yes, he is amazed by everything I do." Henry grinned, turning around and waving at Larr's baby son, Noar, who trotted right to his father at the front. The pup instantly spun back and let his ruff snap open and shut excitedly.

"I can barely believe that we will be back at the colony soon." Henry stared at his new figurine—a flier with a human on his back, raising a flaming sword. Then he drew Mys again and carved into the bottom the words "Death Rider".

"Teslas may be the most amazed at this new skill of yours," mused Thanatos.

Excitement prickled on Henry's palms. "I cannot wait to see him again." He scooted back and forth. "And show him. I left most of my figurines with Kismet, but I may show him this one. Also, that black metal we retrieved from the ice. I still have—"

"Here lies the nibbler colony!" Larr's unmistakable voice rang from up ahead, and Henry's heart began hammering wildly. He slid off Kell's back at once and hurried past him to join Larr, who waited at the edge of a clearing. A distinct and familiar sound reached his peaked ears, and when Henry came up beside Larr, pushing the final layer of vines aside, he could have cried tears of joy. Before him lay a familiar sandy beach, a spring . . . and a curtain of vines on the far side.

"We are back," mumbled Henry, awestruck. "We are back!" He swiveled back and exclaimed in Thanatos' direction, his voice brimming with joy. At once, he rushed to his flier's side to help him dismount Kell, and then his eye met Larr, who watched him keenly. "We are in your debt," he said with a respectful nod. "You have our deepest gratitude."

Larr gave him a low hiss in response, which Henry had learned signified appreciation. Then he was nearly run over by Noar, who slid out from between his father's legs and rammed his head into his stomach affectionately.

Henry screamed in pain, and the pup drew back, his ruff opening reflexively, giving an apologetic wail. "You leave?"

"We must," said Henry, biting back the pain and patting his head. Then he pulled out his notebook, ripping out the page with the letter to Kismet he and Thanatos had composed yesterday. "If we may ask one more favor, would you deliver this to the crawlers of the citadel?" He brandished the page. "It is for a friend who knows not yet that we are safe."

Larr nodded, and Henry rolled up the page, then cut off a hanging vine to tie it together and drape it around the hisser's neck. "Tell them it is from the Wielder of Light," he said. "For . . . the one named Kismet." He laughed. "Death, do you think they will brave the trek to her lair for our sake?"

"Let us hope they do."

"Look, now we must believe in the bravery of crawlers!" Henry continued to laugh. "Or in their loyalty to me. At first glance, both seem equally outlandish. Farewell, Larr," Henry said in his direction. "Farewell, you all."

"Farewell, Death Rider," hissed Larr. "We will not forget your sincerity or your friendship."

"Neither will we." Henry gave Noar a last pat. "Run like the river!" he shouted, waving toward the hissers.

The whole herd responded with a collective low hiss before they faded into the dense foliage, leaving no trace that they had ever existed.

Henry supported Thanatos as they made their way out onto the clearing, and the first thing he observed when facing the rushing waterfall was that it flowed differently from the one by the orange lake—more gently, subtly. And it measured several feet less in height.

"You should wait here, while I—"

Henry cut himself off just in time before he was mown down by a white furball. It threw him down beside Thanatos, and nearly into the lake. "You're back!"

He stared into the white face of the mouse on top of him in shock. "Curie?" Henry asked, disbelievingly. "You . . . are you fully grown now?"

"My birthday was two months ago!" she squealed. "But you! You . . ." Only then did she inspect him closer. "Oh . . . what happened to you? Your scent is . . ." She sniffed. "You're hurt! You're . . . different."

Henry managed to smile. "I am. But fret not; I am also—"

"Sister, give him space to breathe!"

"Cevian!" exclaimed Thanatos, and Curie allowed Henry to shove her off his chest to intake her sister, who perched on one of the rocks by the beach.

"It appears as though she was right about your return this time." Cevian smiled. "She has waited many hours here by the lake for your return."

"Apologies for making you wait so long." Henry stroked Curie behind her ear affectionately. "We had . . . Oh, it is a long story," said Henry, exchanging a glance with Thanatos and wondering just how much of their story he would actually tell them all.

"Oh, Henry, you look like you spent this last half a year in solitary confinement in some dreary cave." Cevian scrutinized him as she helped him to his feet. "And your scent has . . . shifted," she confirmed Curie's observation. "Much has happened, no?"

"Much has happened," concurred Henry with a sigh. "We might tell it to everyone at dinner. You have dinner for us, no?"

"We have! We have!" squealed Curie, who supported Thanatos as he maneuvered toward the vine curtain and in that moment, Henry truly felt like he was coming home.

***

The feast that Lovelace prepared in celebration of their return took Henry back to his first arrival here—just like back then, it was the most delicious food he had eaten in a long while.

And so he surveyed the stacks of food, and it was like they were back. Thanatos was right, he thought, when he claimed that they should never strive to go back, but this return did not take him back in time—it took him back to how things should be.

Following the feast, he had bathed and shaved properly for the first time in forever and changed into fresh clothes, although he had decided to keep the sleeveless leather waistcoat he had made from his arena bounty. It was comfortable, and he had developed a strong liking for the fur hood. He had further redressed all of their wounds and graciously accepted the medical supplies Lovelace had offered him to restock what he was nearly out of.

Before taking his first look in a mirror, he had steeled himself for the worst. Yet, just like last year, he had still jumped. Not because of his clumped, excessively long hair, his sunken eye and face, or because he had yet again lost so much weight that he wondered how he kept himself standing, much less moving and fighting, but because of the scars.

Henry resisted the urge to count them, but when he surveyed himself for the first time, he thought not a single patch of his skin had remained unmarred. The scars were everywhere, often intersecting with one another, and it had taken him several minutes of scrubbing to understand he could not simply wash them off.

As opposed to those he had received before his time as Longclaw's champion, he could no longer tell where each scar had originated from. Some were barely noticeable white lines, crisscrossing on his papery skin, and some were deep gashes etched into his flesh, forever transforming its texture.

Everything seemed to congregate in the middle of his abdomen, right below his ribs, where there gaped a furious, half-healed hole. It left Henry wondering whether it did not hinder him when he walked and moved because it was healing well or because he had gotten far too used to functioning normally in the face of pain. Then he wondered whether there would ever come a time when he might look at it without feeling any pain at all.

When finally walking away from the sight, he had wrapped his arms in a layer of bandages and then donned long trousers, thinking he should look into acquiring a longer pair of gauntlets . . . or a long-sleeved shirt. For, suddenly, the thought of others noticing his scars and inquiring about them sent an uneasy shiver down his spine.

After nearly two hours, he had stepped away from the hot spring with one conclusion: his younger self would certainly not recognize him. "I have your answer," he had mumbled into the void, wondering what his one-year-younger self, who had been so fearful of whatever else may change within a year, would say if he saw him now: him, with his eyepatch, with his hair that reached past his shoulders, and the uncountable number of slowly whitening scars.

Would he be frightened?

"Watch out!"

Henry's eye flew open, and he surveyed the group of nibblers who had assembled after he had returned from bathing to listen to his tale and then test his new abilities. It was a downright party, and he was grateful for the attention beyond belief.

"I need not watch," said Henry with a grin. He pulled his gauntlet into place, then caught the fruit one of the pups tossed at him from behind with ease, striking a pose. As he spun on his heel, his longer-than-usual ponytail nearly hit him in the face.

He had, after some consideration, decided not to cut his hair back to its old length this time. "It has grown on me," he had told Thanatos.

His flier had, entirely missing the pun, scrutinized him with intrigue. "Is long hair not a status symbol among you humans?"

"Perhaps." Henry had grinned, shaking his head and allowing the strands of his unaccustomedly long hair to bounce around his shoulders before gathering and tying them together. "And would you not say I have earned wearing it?"

"Are you honestly leaving your hair long for the status?" Thanatos had teased. "Is it not hindering in battle at all?"

"It is not hindering," had Henry exclaimed, and inevitably thought of Luxa cutting hers, allegedly for this very reason. Then again, she'd had no other reason to cut it . . . no memories to cut along with it—not that time. "I cherish the memories it holds," he had said with a somber smile. "And the difficulties may be worked around when one is not too lazy to make a little more effort. Think you I may ask the nibblers if they could trade for some genuine hair ointment or at least a cleanser? I have not had access to proper products in a year."

"Oh no. I suppose I should be delighted that your vanity has returned, but is that truly at the top of your list of concerns at the moment?" his flier had said with an eye roll.

Even now, recalling this conversation, Henry grinned. He wouldn't reject the memories of that time, even if they terrified him to death. He would live with them and wear the evidence of his living proudly. "You see," he said, slowly turning with his finger raised. "My echolocation is not like yours; it can see into the future and predict any trajectory, then tell me exactly how to—agh!"

"Who do you think you are to disappear for half a year?!" A rugged paw clad in a familiar leather glove grabbed him by the collar and lifted him off his feet. "I am still your gear supplier, and I demand to be relied upon from time to time."

"Oh, Teslas, it is good to see you." Henry twisted to stare at the black nibbler who glared at him with a mix of accusation and concern.

"As you just witnessed, he cannot see everything coming," said Thanatos behind him, and Henry twined in Teslas' grip.

"I could!" he called. "I could not react on time!"

"I care not." Teslas actually threw him onto his back and made off. "I am taking this boy with me to my workshop, and I care not whatsoever about whether anyone here has a problem with that because you cannot stop me."

No one attempted to stop him, and all Henry could do was give the assembly an awkward wave before they had vanished out of sight. Only in his workshop did Teslas put him back on his feet, and for a moment, Henry found himself awestruck by this place yet again. It still existed . . . He was back.

"It is even more cluttered than when I left," he observed, maneuvering between stacks of materials and chests overflowing with scattered scrolls.

"Naturally," replied Teslas before he climbed onto his table and stared directly at him. "Now tell me everything."

Henry put his hands on his hips. "I already told the others," he whined. "You should have joined us." When Teslas only creased his forehead in reply, Henry rolled his eye. "Fine, fine. The story is not as long as you may expect, anyway."

It was not long because he left everything out that he did not feel comfortable sharing. And so he told the inventor, just like he had the crowd earlier, all about the Firelands, and then about Kismet, and nothing about Longclaw, his arena, or what had happened between him and Thanatos. "What matters is that our vision aid has become dear to Kismet and that she taught me what I sought to learn—and more."

Teslas stared at him pensively, then shrugged. "You will only ever tell me as much as you want. But Kismet," he grinned, "she sounds like someone truly extraordinary. I am glad that you found such a capable teacher."

"You two might get along."

"I agree," said Teslas. "I would delight in a chance to meet her one day."

"You two would make history." Henry laughed. "A gnawer befriending a nibbler—it would happen, no doubt. And it would astonish the entire Underland. Oh!" He scrambled up and fished for his backpack. "I nearly forgot—there is something I meant to give you. Death and I have no clue what it is, but you might."

When he presented the nibbler with the peculiar black boulder, his eyes grew round and large. "Oh my!" He inspected it from all sides with caution.

"It came from a system of icy tunnels below the waterway," explained Henry. "It sat at the bottom of a . . . sinkhole," he pondered. "Like it was embedded there a long time ago."

Teslas raised his eyes at him. "Henry, I do not think it has been embedded. I think it may have . . . impacted."

Henry frowned. "What do you mean?" But Teslas was no longer with him. He stared at the useless black rock with large, starry eyes, and Henry smiled, thinking he had not seen him this excited since the Ignifer.

"Oh my, my, my," said Teslas in a sing-song voice, skittering to the other side of his table. "Oh, have you any idea what treasure you have brought me here?"

"None." Henry laughed, thinking only Teslas could ever become so worked up over a rock. "But perhaps it may be used for something."

"Something!" Teslas scoffed. "He says "something"! We will not use this for merely "something"." He muttered unintelligibly, then he ran over toward an overflowing chest and scattered at least a hundred leather scrolls on the ground.

Henry approached as well and made out that they seemed to be designs and blueprints of all kinds—weapons, armor, and other gadgets, some of which he had never seen.

"What are these?" He picked one up at random and found it was for an item he did not recognize. He held it higher and frowned, musing that it was a type of weapon unlike any he had ever seen. The depicted sketch was a flat, elongated "v" shape with blades on each end. The scroll was further adorned with text in Teslas' shorthand, and although Henry could decipher the symbols, the word made no sense to him. "A "boom-er-ang"? What in the world is this?"

"Oh, those." In the next moment, Teslas had him by the arm and dragged him away from the chest, forcing him to release the scroll. "Those are a few designs I made for you. For the future. If we get to them all."

Henry stared at the mountain of scrolls. "A . . . few."

"I had a lot of time to spare!" Teslas groaned. "But they are for later."

"Hey! I was not done looking at that . . . boomerang thing!"

"Later," insisted Teslas. "Now let us see that utterly stunning, marvelous material you brought me."

Henry rolled his eye but grinned widely. "Witnessing such pure love at first glance truly brings joy to my heart! Can you at least tell me what your new flame is?"

Teslas shot him a glare. "Goodness, no. Do I look like a geologist to you? I mean, I have a theory, but I am no expert in this field. Henry, you must return to the others and fetch me someone proficient in geology. Lyella or Darwin . . . or them both. They will have answers."

"But only if I may look at those other designs soon."

"Later!" exclaimed Teslas, shoving him toward the exit. "Go, go!" he shooed. "Go! I need answers!"

Then and there, Henry thought he would venture to the deepest, least explored corners of the Underland more regularly if it meant he could deliver to Teslas a surprise that brought him so much joy every time.

***

"This material is highly fascinating, indeed."

The pretty, light gray nibbler named Lyella tapped her claw against the enigmatic black boulder, casting a glance at Darwin. It was the following day, and alongside Teslas and Henry, who had been instructed to sit and banned from any manual tasks due to his injury, she had gathered around Teslas' table.

"Indeed," concurred Darwin. "The samples we analyzed yesterday indicate that your theory was correct," he said to Teslas. "It is most certainly a meteorite."

"I knew it!" exclaimed Teslas.

Only Henry frowned. "A meteo . . . what now?"

"Meteorite," Darwin repeated. "The term refers to an object that has once crashed onto Earth from space. They are extremely scarce, especially ones of this size, and I believe this particular one is at least four or five million years old."

"You mean million?" Henry stared at the black boulder with newfound intrigue.

"It is in exceedingly good condition too," said Lyella. "We speculated that the ice may have preserved it so well—it may have formed shortly after or even before it impacted. But no matter the exact circumstances of its preservation—this single piece is the most precious treasure any of us will ever come across. I believe its value cannot be quantified in gold or jewels."

Henry gave the black boulder a skeptical glance. It did not look valuable, but if it was really this ancient . . . ?

"But what does it consist of?" urged Teslas. "Could you determine?"

"Not stone," replied Darwin, peeking at a scroll covered in notes that he had brought. "Metal, although we have never encountered this alloy."

"Not merely the alloy," added Lyella. "Entire components of it are . . . foreign. Although there is iron in it, as well as silver, it does not oxidize or react whatsoever. Whatever exactly it is . . . I don't know if anyone in the Underland or even the Overland could tell."

"After all, it is not from Earth," concluded Darwin.

Teslas nodded, rubbing his front paws together. "Well, well." He nodded. "All well. But we care less about its consistency than its attributes. Is it hard? Can it be molten or formed? Halt." He suddenly tensed. "Can we confirm that it is not one of those metals that can burn your skin and cause the emergence of anomalous appendages and such?"

Henry's head shot up. "Metals that . . . what?"

"Oh, no, it is not radioactive," assured Lyella. "According to our tests, it is entirely safe."

But Darwin gave a nervous laugh. "Well, according to our tests, it is. However, that is no guarantee by any means. It is from space, and so it may do something we have no test for."

Henry stared at the substance suspiciously. It had not even crossed his mind that it might be dangerous.

"Well, you've had it on your person for months," said Lyella to Henry with a nervous laugh. "Were it dangerous, you would very likely have felt some effect already."

"Anyway." Teslas cleared his throat. "May we return to the more pressing matter at hand: What is it good for? How well can it be worked? We established that it is light. Does that mean it breaks easily?"

"Oh, quite the opposite," replied Darwin. "This alloy is harder than any material known to us, save maybe diamond. Even taking a sample for testing was difficult."

"It is light and incredibly hard, and though it is non-reactive, it melts rather easily," continued Lyella. "You should be able to forge it effectively, although we advise not to subject the final product to intense heat as it may deform."

"If you would like a recommendation, we propose to fashion it into armor," said Darwin. "It is light and far harder than any conventional steel."

"Oh, absolutely not!" exclaimed Henry before Teslas could so much as open his mouth. "Armor is for those who need it. I need no armor if I can sense any incoming attack. Give me a weapon," he urged. "Something that a material so unique shan't be wasted on."

The three nibblers threw him amused looks. "I had an inkling he would say that," mumbled Teslas.

"Well, in that case . . ." Darwin glimpsed at his scroll again. "If you want a weapon, make use of its lightness and go for something large."

"I would ask you to reforge my sword from it," mumbled Henry, "but they said the end product should not be exposed to heat . . . so I would no longer be able to use the Ignifer."

But Teslas perked up. "No, no," he exclaimed. "We shan't replace your sword. Once, you told me something that . . . Give me a moment." He hasted over to his chest with designs and rummaged around in it again. "Give me a moment!"

In less than a minute, Teslas perked up again, tightly clutching a scroll. Under the curious eyes of Lyella, Darwin, and Henry, he vaulted over again and flung it onto the table, causing it to unfurl. And as soon as he had processed what the scroll revealed, Henry's jaw dropped.

***

"Has it been a nightmare?"

Even though, if he had tried, he could have made out who now cowered behind him on the beach, Henry recoiled. "I could not stay inside," he mumbled, sensing Thanatos come up beside him. It was not his nightmares that frightened him so much that he hadn't been able to stand the sight of the cave where they slept any longer. It had been the thoughts that had kept him from settling down to sleep ever since he had returned from Teslas' workshop hours ago.

"Has something happened?"

Henry shook his head. He pulled his knees to his chest and laid his head on top.

"Come, speak to me."

"I have . . . I mean, we cannot stay here forever," Henry said after a pause. "When I am around everyone else, I feel no fear. But as soon as I am alone with my thoughts, it catches up. What do we do?" he asked, distraught. "What do we do now? I want not to bother the nibblers with ourselves forever."

"They do not seem bothered," said Thanatos soothingly.

"What if I simply . . . leave?" Henry whispered as though he hadn't heard him. "Stand up and walk away in a random direction, never looking back?"

"There would be a lot of disappointed faces when they wake." Thanatos' uninjured wing beat the air, distraught. "You would leave without me?"

"No," said Henry. "You are why I have not left yet."

"What about what Teslas is making from the black substance?" asked Thanatos. "Has he not spoken of making something special from it?"

Henry glanced back in the direction of the vine curtain. "A sword," he whispered.

"Have you not one of those already?"

For the first time, Henry raised his head from his knees to glare at his bond. "Not just any sword. It will differ greatly from the one I—"

"A sword is a sword to me." At Henry's appalled face, Thanatos laughed. "You look like I have personally insulted you."

"You shall see," hissed Henry. "That a sword is by no means just a sword. Not this sword."

"So, you are staying? To witness and show me this . . . sword?"

Henry stared at him silently for a heartbeat. "I must." He smiled. "If you make such ridiculous claims, I must."

"Good." Thanatos stretched his freshly re-splinted wing and settled down by Henry's side.

"Are you bothered that you cannot fly?" asked Henry. "For at least a month, they said, no?"

"I am," said his flier without looking up. "But at least we are here, safe."

"I wish not to rob you of your security," assured Henry at once. "If you like, we may stay longer."

"I wish not to rob you of your freedom either," replied Thanatos. "We may leave when we figure out where we would like to go. But I am still glad that Lovelace permitted us to stay for the time being. We will figure out where to go from here," he said emphatically. "But let us not rush things. Let us rest."

"I wish I could."

"Have you really nightmares? Have they worsened?"

"Occasionally." Henry pulled his legs tighter to his chest, despite the sting in his abdomen. "At least Longclaw and Tonguetwist may not find us here. I sometimes wonder whether it all had some deeper purpose. Whether it was all planned or whether we were just extraordinarily unlucky."

"Forgive me for dragging you into this feud," mumbled Thanatos. "I have known that Longclaw loathes me for a long time, but . . . You were never supposed to suffer because of . . ." He took a deep breath. "I cannot unsee that image of you in his grasp, hanging over the edge. Like . . . Like . . ."

"Like Arya?"

"I think I had not felt so much fear since the day I had to watch her fall."

"But I did not fall," said Henry, turning to face him. "You fell. In front of my eyes."

"I am the one who neglected to finish him off," hissed Thanatos. "I left him alive, which ultimately allowed him to inflict pain upon you. I should have . . . I am . . ."

"Be still." Henry scooted closer and leaned his head against the curve of his flier's neck. "If I am not allowed to battle fears all by myself, neither may you. Is that not what you said it means? To be bonds." He pulled his legs to his chest and closed his eye. "Your fears are my fears, and your enemies are my enemies. I mind not kicking a few more asses in your name if that is what I must do. We are one," he whispered. "Forevermore."

"But I still might have—"

"Bonds," said Henry emphatically. "I blame you not, so you should not blame yourself. Is that not what you said to me? You cannot comfort me like so and then refuse to let it comfort you."

"To be bonds," said Thanatos incredulously. "It is both reassuring and . . . a little terrifying."

"I know. But did you not say that we should embrace it anyway?"

Thanatos remained silent for a while. "I feel better," he said eventually. "Knowing that I have told you and that you wish for me not to blame myself. But . . ." He shifted slightly. "What of your own fear? Is there anything that may be done? I wish not for you to have fear."

"I have fear, not because of anything related to you or us," said Henry quietly. "And I know not what may be done. I know nothing anymore." He pressed his face into Thanatos' fur. "Except for you," he whispered. "I know nothing except that I have you."

"You have me."

"And yet I feel . . . untethered," said Henry. "Aimless. Purposeless. Not because I have no reason to live, to keep trying, but because I have no . . . direction. No goal. I could not even tell you who I wanted to be now that I live once more. I know nothing," he repeated. "All that still anchors me down is you."

Thanatos hesitated. "This is how I felt after I found you," he admitted eventually. "This is why I said that you saved me. You gave me a direction. For the first time in seven years . . . or even longer, you gave me something like a direction. An ambition."

"I invented my own ambition." Henry laughed weakly. "It was all that kept me going—that promise I made you out of sheer spite. I think a part of me hadn't yet processed how much I had lost. Was not quite ready to face it yet—that I had lost everything . . . everyone I ever loved. Home."

"You gave me direction, and I gave you a purpose," said the flier. "What did you call it back then? Mutual need."

"It was Ripred who coined this term," admitted Henry. "Perhaps we should not tell him that we stole it."

"Who knows, he may be delighted that it has gained some popularity?"

"But does he deserve the delight?"

"I think he does," said Thanatos pensively. "Has he not indirectly saved your life when he sent you to Kismet?"

Henry made a face. "Shit. You must never, under no circumstances, let him know. Please do not let him know, or I will not hear the end of it."

"Oh, fine," said Thanatos in a mellow voice. "You have a point."

"I think I had subconsciously convinced myself that I needn't face my loss because I had not lost you yet back then," said Henry after a pause. "It was a blessing to some extent. It gave me the mind and spirit to invent an ambition. To not succumb. But perhaps it was always bound to catch up to me."

"It did when you lost me too."

"To think that it took losing you too to understand the full extent of my loss . . . My deed. My mistake." Henry scoffed. "A little pathetic, is it not?"

"Not pathetic." Thanatos shook his head. "Pathetic would be not to realize at all. To not learn once you had realized."

"I had not even understood the ways in which I had been mistreating those around me. Mistreated Ares. Mistreated you." Henry blew out a breath. "You were right; I have done so much harm with no regard for it."

"Henry . . ."

"It is what you said!" he exclaimed. "I care not if you regret saying it. It was the truth. That part was."

Thanatos was silent for a long while. "Perhaps it was the truth," he finally admitted. "But it is also the truth that harm may have been prevented if someone had made you aware of it sooner, no?"

"I did not mean to cause harm." Henry pulled his legs tighter to his chest. "If you had told me, I would have tried . . . Oh, why have I been such an oblivious fool?"

"You are no longer oblivious."

"It was almost too late."

"Almost."

Henry firmly pressed his cheek into Thanatos' fur. "I am scared."

"What are you scared of?"

"Everything," he squeezed out between clenched teeth. "Messing up again. Something going horribly wrong. What if this was it for me? What if my life is over? What if everything I do from now on is worthless? What if I'm forever destined to pointlessly meddle, never to find a goal again? A . . . home."

"Henry?"

"Hm . . ."

"Your life . . . can only ever be as worthless as you make it." Thanatos shifted, spreading his uninjured wing over the boy like a protective cover. "Are not all our ambitions honestly invented?" he mused. "Whether you are an outcast or not, everyone must decide what it is that they want to strive toward. Without belonging to a society, it is harder, but . . . I have no doubts that you will succeed."

Henry's mouth opened, yet out came no sound.

"And if . . . you do need someone to remind you of your virtue and your spirit, to tell you you are not worthless, that you and whatever you decide to do with yourself matter," Thanatos continued, "I may tell you as many times as you want. Because we are bonds," he said emphatically. "This means that neither of us must ever fear being purposeless or alone again."

"It is you and me." His hand tightened around Thanatos' claw.

"From now on and for as long as we live."

The frighteningly powerful meaning of the words swept over Henry, yet suddenly he found his fear had subsided. Perhaps this thought, this reminder, really could quell any fear.

"A home is not always a place," his flier spoke on. "And although neither of us can ever regain what we have lost, perhaps one day we can find a new home . . . together."