"Shall we attempt a few more phrases?" Henry flashed a grin at Hazard, who nodded and then raised his hands, pointing at himself and emitting a series of high-pitched squeaks.

Henry frowned, paused, and then finally squeaked out a response, causing Hazard to burst into stifled giggles. "You say the correct words, but you still sound like a nibbler," said Hazard. "The language is similar but different enough."

"At least you understand me." Henry flicked the air in front of Hazard's face, and the boy let out a yelp, then erupted into fits of laughter.

Henry glimpsed behind him and spotted the silhouettes of the others. Gregor and Luxa were in deep discussion, both still eating their breakfast. Nike scuttled back and forth in front of Thanatos, who lay outstretched on the floor with his eyes squinted to narrow slits. Temp and Boots seemed to be engaged in a game of tag. He had actually succeeded in bringing them a bit of peace. Henry smiled, deciding to prolong this one last moment of it for a while longer.

"We may understand him, but personally, my tail begins coiling the moment he opens his mouth and anything other than Human comes out," snarled Ripred, prompting more laughter from Hazard. "Then again, considering he's a grown-up and only just got the basics of Gnawer down this morning, he's not . . . awful."

"It is much like Nibbler, and I'm fluent in that," exclaimed Henry, then paused, suddenly recalling something else that had almost slipped his mind. He deliberately held Ripred's gaze before emitting two separate, high-pitched squeaks in quick succession.

Ripred's ears and tail shot up, and even Hazard's eyes widened. "Where the hell did he get that from?!" Ripred glared at Hazard, but the boy shook his head.

"Not me!" he called. "I have never heard that word before."

"For good reason!" Ripred's tail lashed at Henry, who barely ducked in time. "You should be ashamed to speak like this in front of the children! I don't care if they understand or not!"

"Oh, was it a bad word?" asked Hazard.

"Your innocent little ears heard nothing; are we clear?" Ripred's yellow eyes narrowed to slits. "I don't need people going around saying that I'm teaching the little kids to swear in Gnawer. Whoever taught you that?" he snapped at Henry, who hadn't ceased grinning for a second.

"Venture a guess."

Ripred stared at him for a moment, then broke into stifled laughter. "The next time she shows her face again, I will need to have a very serious talk with her."

"Oh, was it Kismet?" asked Hazard in a hushed voice, leaning closer to Henry.

"She specifically instructed me to say it to Ripred the next time I crossed paths with him."

"How very kind of her," growled Ripred.

"She raised me exceptionally well, yes."

Ripred paused, then snorted. "Fine then. Next time you cross paths with her, tell her the same thing back. But add another exclamation on top."

"Haven't the two of you the most heartfelt of love languages?" snickered Henry.

"Who has a love language?" asked Thalia as she emerged behind Hazard before Ripred had the chance to ask why Henry would make such assumptions about the two of them . . . and Henry didn't know if he should be grateful. On the one hand, it would be difficult to explain without revealing what had happened to her. On the other hand, he was dying for more information, especially from the side he hadn't heard at all yet.

Suffice it to say, the more he interacted with Ripred, the more Henry realized how plausible the two of them were together, to the point where he wondered how it was possible that he hadn't guessed it the moment he had met Kismet.

"Oh, we are only teaching the Death Rider to speak in Gnawer!" exclaimed Hazard, giving his bond an enthusiastic embrace. "He learns quickly!"

"Oh!" Thalia flapped her wings excitedly.

Ripred rolled his eyes. "Of course, he learns quickly. He has learned the first echolocation threshold in a month and the second in ninety-nine days."

"Crossed," amended Henry with a grin. "And indeed, I will one day surpass you all in the field of perception, says Kismet. And that she has never encountered one with such an astounding talent for achieving harmony between the mental and the physical as me."

"I see she has fallen victim to your charisma as well," grumbled Ripred. "Whenever have you acquired that? I recall that you were mostly just a brat when we first met."

"I must have picked it up somewhere in the ruins of exile, along with my ability to inspire and my penchant for protecting children," said Henry.

Hazard and Thalia, who had followed the exchange, giggled. "I think he can do anything," said Thalia, awestruck.

"Oh, certainly, he can do anything," sneered Ripred. "Let us throw him off a cliff and see if he can fly without his bat too. What say?"

"I'm afraid I am still working on that. But hey, I suppose I should laud you." Henry looked back and forth between Ripred and Hazard. "You actually managed to successfully teach something to someone there, outcast buddy."

Hazard nodded. "He taught me to speak Gnawer all by himself!"

"Quite hard to believe," replied Henry. "Considering he's even more miserable with children than with people."

Ripred squinted, and then Henry nearly fell over at the high-pitched, shrill squeak that came from his mouth. Then he broke into laughter immediately. "Did you not say we should no longer swear?"

"She taught you that one too?" Ripred hissed. "Oh, I'll kill her myself. I will! I sent you to her so that you learned to fight, not swear in Gnawer!"

"And I learned both," proclaimed Henry.

"What you still have not learned is to be cautious about picking fights with me," said Ripred. "Just because you have some . . . decent skill now, this does not give you a free pass to shed all reservations and be such a brat with me."

"Decent?" Hazard jumped to his feet. "He is incredible! I wish to learn that too—the echolocation. Will you teach me? Please teach me!"

"I am incredible, indeed." Henry patted Hazard's head, trying not to feel disheartened about not being able to promise this—neither to him nor to Gregor yesterday. "I wish I had the opportunity to teach you—I really do—but I'm afraid this is not quite as easy as picking up a few words in Gnawer. We will not have the time."

Hazard's smile faded, and he slumped his shoulders. "I understand," he said. But mere moments later, the shine returned to his eyes, and he took one step closer toward Henry. "Is it true what Luxa says—that you once rode a serpent? And that it bit your eye out?"

"Haven't you heard me tell that story in the jungle?" Henry laughed, feeling a wave of sympathy for the boy. Under different circumstances, we might have grown up as family, he thought, quickly deciding that, just like Luxa, he wouldn't allow the fact that it was a little late to stop him.

"I think I might have been otherwise occupied," said Hazard apologetically.

"Well, it is all true." Henry patted Hazard's head again and barely dodged Thalia's excitedly extending wing.

"He also said he battled snappers and twisters the length of caves and even diggers!" she exclaimed.

"I did not battle the diggers," said Henry. "Well . . . not for long. I hate to concede, but I suppose I must concede to your father's statement about most creatures not being inclined to do battle."

"Hear, hear," snarled Ripred. "Is he actually growing up to be a diplomat?"

"I could," retorted Henry. "If I choose so."

"But you are a warrior, no?" said Hazard. "Those two do not go together."

"They go together, actually," replied Henry. "All you must do is find a balance. Be proficient in both and use whichever means seems more prudent under the given circumstances."

Hazard tilted his head, looking pensive. "My father said that being a warrior is bad, but you are not bad."

"Your father had some good ideas, but he was too narrow-minded in a lot of ways," said Ripred.

"Luxa says that my father was wise," whispered Hazard, and Henry barely suppressed an eye roll.

"In . . . some aspects," he said hesitantly. "But perhaps you should believe more in the things that you see and experience with your own senses than what you've been told—like how you have met some goodhearted warriors . . . such as myself!"

"It is like how not all rats are bad and not all humans are good," mumbled Hazard.

"Attaboy, this is it." Henry ruffled his curls.

"Attaboy indeed," snarled Ripred. "And believe me, I understand that you children wish to spend all day admiring this great lad here, yet we mustn't overdo it either." He scooped Hazard up by his belt. "Lest his head explode from all the hot air."

"You are only jealous." Henry grinned, laughing as he had to dodge Ripred's tail swipe.

"That, or I might be the only one who remembers that we should press on soon," replied Ripred, and Henry's grin fell immediately.

"I remember," said Henry, getting to his feet and glancing over at Luxa and Gregor, still in conversation. "I merely wished to prolong this moment for all of them. It might be our final moment of peace." He gave Hazard, whom Ripred had since put back on his feet, a final smile. "I realize that I am impressive, but who knows? When you grow up, you might be just as great a warrior as I."

Henry had just taken the first step forward to begin rounding up the questers, following Thalia, who had scurried off toward Thanatos and Nike, when he caught sight of Hazard's smile fading.

"Is something the matter?" He turned back to him, creasing his brow.

"Luxa says that I cannot be a warrior," said Hazard, staring at the floor with a deep frown. "She says that my father did not want that. That he said so before he died. So, I cannot."

Henry froze, his mouth agape. "What?" His gaze flicked to Luxa, and he observed that Ripred had inserted himself between her and Gregor, pestering the Overlander about something.

"She will not let me train with arms," said Hazard. "She says that it is what my father would have done."

Upon the boy's words, Henry's first impulse was to drag Luxa over and ask what the hell that was supposed to amount to, but then he looked back at Hazard and hesitated. They held each other's gazes for a moment, and Henry decided to think his next words through carefully. So, he only asked: "And . . . if it were within your control, would you want to be a warrior?"

Henry caught a glimpse of surprise in Hazard's eyes, as if he had never expected to actually be asked. After a moment's hesitation, Hazard averted his eyes. "No, I don't think I would. At least . . . I think so. But I always think . . ." His eyes met Henry's again, who was surprised at the depth and sincerity of his gaze. "What if I change my mind someday? Will Luxa be mad at me? If I ever . . . get into a fight, will she love me less? Or will my father be mad at me, wherever he is now?"

"Hazard, no," urged Henry, kneeling in front of the boy. I am not the one who ought to have this conversation with him, he thought, looking back at Luxa. Then again . . . maybe he was. If everyone else was messing this up, he might as well pick up the pieces. Hazard was not excluded from the people he wished to uplift. This was his chosen specialty, so why was he even hesitating?

"Nobody will love you less or be mad at you," he said, hoping urgently that it was true. Perhaps the person he should be talking to next was Luxa.

"But Luxa says that my father did not want me to fight!" Hazard protested.

"I know." Henry sighed, taking the boy's hands and struggling to contain his mounting irritation. Attempting to honor Hamnet's wish was one thing, but how could Luxa forbid Hazard from training with arms altogether? Henry scowled. What if he were to be attacked?

If he never learned to fight, Hazard would be dependent on the protection of others forever. The mere thought made Henry's insides crawl. He took him in, envisioning him growing into a teenager who might resist authority. What consequences would this exclusion have for his self-esteem? His sense of self-preservation? Knowing better than others the dangerous urge to engage in irresponsible actions to prove one's worth, Henry suddenly found himself fearing for Hazard in an unprecedented way.

"As difficult as it may be for you and certain others," Henry glanced at Luxa, "to comprehend, this is not a decision that your father, Luxa, or anyone else has the right to make. They try because they think they know what's best for you. But only you can decide what you want to be. So . . . if you ever happen to change your mind, you will have every right to do so. And I am certain that Luxa loves you enough to understand."

Hazard gave him a tentative smile. "You truly believe that?"

"Of course." Henry smiled back brightly. "You may be anything you want. Please let nobody tell you otherwise."

"And you?" Hazard's smile widened. "You are an outcast. Was that what you wanted to be too?"

In the middle of rising to his feet, Henry froze. "No, I am not a good example." He laughed. "You may be anything you want, only not an outcast, please."

They laughed together, and Henry took his hand, guiding him over to Luxa and Gregor. With each step they took, his determination to bring this up with her later intensified. He couldn't quite explain why, but all of a sudden, he felt a deep sense of responsibility for Hazard, unlike anything he had ever felt before. And he was committed to seeing this through, no matter what.

***

"She has no right to do this. You concur, no?"

Henry had not ceased complaining to Thanatos for a single moment as they led the group onward. Because of the detour, none of them could any longer tell how long their return trip would last, and Henry worried about this almost as much as about the nibblers.

Nevertheless, they had taken off some ten minutes ago; Hazard had been insistent on flying with Thalia for as long as the path was comfortable to traverse, so Gregor had taken Boots and Temp back on Aurora, leaving Henry with Thanatos. He had not wasted any time before filling his flier in on what Hazard had told him.

"I do concur," said Thanatos. "But I also see that this bothers you almost like it is . . . personal."

"I'm uncertain why," said Henry, shifting back and forth and considering whether he should strap on the saddle gear. "It may be that they are limiting his freedom, or perhaps that they are exposing him to unnecessary dangers."

"Or it is that they are imposing their expectations on him through force."

"Or that." Henry made a face. "I look at him, and I cannot cease envisioning him in five years, facing exclusion and feeling like a failure because his skills in this field do not match those of his peers, or guilt for wishing they would, because he would have been conditioned not to crave being proficient in combat."

"This is likely." Thanatos sighed. "Hamnet may have been keen on justice and firm in his values, but he was also always a little . . . narrow-minded. Hearing that he had such expectations of his son does not surprise me."

"I wish I could train Hazard myself."

Thanatos laughed. "I have no doubts that you would make an excellent teacher."

Hearing those words, Henry smiled for the first time since he had spoken to Hazard. "I know what harm excessively enforced expectations can do," he said. "I wouldn't wish that fate on anyone."

"I have not grown up with much family or intervention. I suppose the only advantage of that is that I am used to being free."

"And lonely."

Thanatos snorted. "Perhaps a little too used to that, yes."

"I love my family," said Henry. "Yet at times, they do vex me sorely. It is one of my favorite things about being an outcast—that I have freedom. There are no expectations to live up to besides my own."

"And yet you miss your family."

"Fine. Perhaps I miss them," Henry grumbled. "However, recently, I have not been the only one between the two of us enjoying the company of others, have I?"

Thanatos' ears twitched. "What are you talking about?"

"Pretend not like the entire world cannot see it," snickered Henry. "The one whose company you have been enjoying so much, of course. Nike must be exceptionally charming, considering that she actually seems to be succeeding in winning your attention. Or is it just that she is persistent?"

Thanatos hissed. "You are misunderstanding."

"No, you are . . . however one could be so blind."

"Nike is—" Thanatos broke off, yet Henry sensed the beat of his wings growing more forceful.

"She is so infatuated with you that even I have heard the other fliers gossiping behind your backs, complaining that she talks about you too much."

"You have heard what now?"

Henry broke into uncontrollable laughter. "They say that she cannot cease singing your praises," he teased, "and that they are this close to approaching you about it themselves, just so that they shall be spared from learning in even more detail about how she feels for you."

"Henry, cease uttering such nonsense." Thanatos sounded appalled. "Do not invent rumors that might lead me to humiliate myself."

"I am not inventing anything!" he exclaimed. "I swear by Mys; all that I'm saying is true. What think you?" He reclined until he was almost lying down. "Would all of your young feature combinations of black and white, or would some of them have a uniform color?"

"Henry!"

"Down!"

The moment Ripred's scream reached him, Thanatos dipped and touched down in the middle of the wide tunnel. The rest of the fliers followed suit, and Ripred immediately slid off of Ares' back. "You might want to check that side tunnel." He indicated a crevice to their left. "Since you are looking for nibblers."

Instantly, Henry's mind went blank; gone were all thoughts of Nike, Thanatos, and Hazard . . . leaving solely the word "nibblers".

He almost collided with Luxa at the tunnel entrance as they rushed forward together. About halfway in, she turned on one of Gregor's flashlights, yet Henry needed no light. He ran until he faced a dead end—and was almost brought to his knees by the sight before him. Although it wasn't until Luxa caught up and cast the flashlight beam ahead that he fully comprehended what he was witnessing.

"It is . . . blood," mumbled Henry, voice laced with dread.

Luxa took one step forward and gasped in terror, then dropped to her knees, shining the flashlight around as though it would show something different if she looked at it enough times.

Thanatos pushed past Henry, who had stilled to solid ice, and sniffed the rim of the shallow depression that lay before them. Not so long ago, it must have been entirely filled with blood. "Teslas." Thanatos confirmed Henry's worst fear.

"He is not dead," said Henry reflexively, dropping beside Luxa and tracing the blood-crusted stone with his finger.

"How old?" asked Luxa.

"Not old," replied Thanatos. "Maybe a day. The blood dried out quickly because of the heat. There is likely a volcano nearby."

It was only then that Henry realized the air seemed hotter than before. Surveying the niche, he questioned what could have transpired here. Had it been Teslas' camp? Why had he bled so much? "May I . . . see that light?"

As Luxa handed it over, Henry noticed her trembling shoulders, even with Aurora by her side. He quickly swept the light around, searching for anything other than dried blood, and discovered that the wall was densely covered in scratch marks. However, when he tried to identify patterns or symbols, he found it was all just meaningless scribbles.

Then a crack in the wall to his right caught the flashlight beam, exposing a narrow opening, roughly two feet wide, with the trail of blood leading inside. "He must've slipped through here," concluded Henry. "Wherever it goes, we cannot pursue. Not with the fliers."

"We must hope that it will cross into our tunnel later," said Luxa, her voice as loaded as his own.

Henry gently traced his fingers along the scratch marks, only to be startled by a gasp from behind: "T-There! The—"

Luxa pivoted toward Hazard, who had made his way inside together with Gregor, Ripred, and Ares. Yet Henry kept his gaze fixed on the wall, where Hazard's trembling finger pointed to a spot bearing a scythe.

Henry felt a lump rise in his throat. There was a message Teslas meant to convey to him through the mark, and it maddened him that he still couldn't fully grasp the significance.

"What happened here?" asked Gregor behind him.

"I know not." Henry tore his gaze from the scythe to face the Overlander. "It is Teslas' blood. He has been here, but we know not what happened."

"Dreadful things are happening, dreadful things are," said Temp in a trembling voice.

"Let me see too!" suddenly sounded from his back.

"Boots!" Gregor pushed through the crowd that had gathered around the nook. "Boots, let's go back outside to Howard. Let's go." He scooped her up, and Henry directed the flashlight beam away from the blood before she could see.

Gregor disappeared with her in his arms, leaving Henry with Ripred, Luxa, and their fliers.

"Think you we will find him soon?" asked Luxa in a brittle voice. "Teslas?"

"I think so." He put an arm around her shoulder, and she didn't push him away. "The scythes are all his work—those that aren't mine. He means to tell me something. To lead me. And yet—" Henry released a frustrated hiss, smashing the side of his fist into the wall. "And yet I still feel utterly blind. Why can you not speak to me?" he screamed at the scythe. "Speak to me!"

Luxa's hand on his back brought him back to his senses. "He will speak to you when we find him," she mumbled.

"It is the same mark over and over." Henry shook his head, staring at the wretched scythe. "The same useless mark." Before she could gauge what he meant to do, Henry unsheathed Mys and dragged the blade across the scythe, as if he could scratch it away. But all that his efforts produced was a horizontal line across the scythe's handle.

"We have not lost yet," said Luxa, although her voice was stale and her eyes despairing.

"We have not lost yet," concurred Henry. "We shall not lose. Not one more nibbler shall be lost." Henry stared at the defaced scythe. "I suppose I mustn't leave any symbol here, as you and Gregor did in that pit."

"But what symbol is it?" asked Ripred behind him.

"It—" Henry meant to remind Ripred that he knew the mark of secret, but then he looked back at it and cut himself off. The horizontal line across the handle of the former scythe gave it a sense of finality, as though its unseen purpose had been fulfilled. But Henry knew their mission wouldn't be complete until they had rescued the nibblers. He gingerly traced his fingers over the mark, pondering, "Does it now hold a different meaning? Is it another mark of secret?"

Ripred shook his head. "No, it's never been seen before. But that's a good thing. Now, you get to decide what it means."

Henry stared at it for a heartbeat longer, then rose to his feet. "So I shall."

Only minutes later, they were all in the air again. Henry strapped on his saddle gear after all, if only because it made him feel more secure. There was no more peace, he thought. No longer even a pretense of it. The persistent, ominous threat that had been lingering over them had at last come too near to ignore.

"So, what would you like for it to mean?" asked Thanatos finally.

"The crossed scythe?" Henry shifted back and forth in the saddle. "I am uncertain. "The first thought I had upon seeing it was that the horizontal line may signify a response to its initial request."

"If the scythe means that there is a threat, the additional line may mean that someone has heard and will address it?" proposed Thanatos.

Henry nodded, then frowned. Something was happening up ahead, but the sound was distorted and low-pitched, making it difficult to read. It was an odd roar, unlike anything he had ever heard before, but his echolocation showed no obstacles or living beings. He swept a strand of hair behind his ear, only for a strong gust of wind to blow it back into his face. "Hear you this noise?" he asked to be on the safe side. "What is it?"

Thanatos laughed. "Only the wind. It seems to be picking up. Are you so anxious that you listen so cautiously to your environment now?"

Henry shook his head, brushing the sound aside. "Never mind that. But what if we also make that scythe our personal mark?" he suggested. "A mark meaning "Death Rider"? Meaning, "We were here, we are aware, we will handle it"."

"A mark for us," mused Thanatos. "I have been wondering if you will ever invent one. This seems like a fitting choice."

"It is a scythe, after all, and the Death Rider is a reaper figure." Henry nodded. "What mark could be more fitting than—"

It was then that the currents hit.