Victor Fair made his way down a beaten path he had come to know by heart. The Korral barn was a stark shadow against the horizon, the sky above it steel gray.

The world grew darker as winter advanced. Victor thought of the supplies they would need if they were to last through three months of snow in a place as remote as Elsendorf, and felt ice in his gut. Sofia and Malik were children. They depended on Victor in a way no soul ever had, despite their inner strength and hard-earned maturity. Victor could not fail them.

He could not dig any more graves.

Victor shook his morose musings away. He sped his steps, mind firmly on the present and its needs. The barn had to be stocked with firewood. Food and other perishable necessities would be stored in the house proper, where they would be protected against passing wildlife and the elements. Victor had to readjust his estimate of what constituted appropriate in terms of supplies several times. Civilians were not soldiers. Children, as Victor learned from conversations with village parents that left the latter wide-eyed with outrage at the soldier's ignorance, required an even greater allowances of food, sleep, and other basic comforts.

Victor rolled his shoulders back. The muscles there protested, sore from hours of labor. The village was preparing for the approaching season: Roofs were being patched, walls reinforced, doors and windows insulated against the gales of frost-bitten wind that swept over the land. Victor traded his strength for supplies he could not otherwise secure, not being a farmer or a merchant or, indeed, anyone at all where Elsendorf was concerned.

The villagers called him Sam. They did not question Victor's presence or his custody of Sofia and Malik. Sometimes, they did not even seem to see him. Victor would call out a greeting and watch eyes refocus and bodies realign to include him in their orbit of surveillance. If he said nothing, people looked past him as if through so much air. The soldier suspected this to be a parting gift from Elsendorf's late Guardian. He was glad of the protection against curious eyes and busy mouths. Yet, a part of him – the part that was still waiting for the Captain and Lightning to return – felt hollow.

Something flickered into being at Victor's periphery. Victor did not react outwardly. Elsendorf sprawled to his right. On his left lay barren fields. A shadow smudged in and out of view within them, sometimes close, sometimes far away. The flock of crows roaming among hard clumps of dirt in search of stray seeds scattered, shrieking madly.

Victor kept walking. He had hardly known Henry when the sprite had played at being human. Victor had no intention of approaching the boy in his current state.

The front door parted open. Gold eyes glistened within the dark foyer of the Korral household, narrowed in suspicion. Victor raised the basket he was holding. Malik's nostrils flared briefly.

"Meat," Victor confirmed.

The door opened wide. Malik thrust his arms out, ostensibly for the basket. Victor handed it over with exaggerated care.

"There are eggs inside," the soldier warned.

Malik grunted in affirmation. He grabbed the basket and dashed back inside, feet pounding against the floor. Victor heard the door to the kitchen open and close. Malik rarely strayed far from Sofia's side, and as a result had not set a foot outside their door since they had taken residence in the old Korral home. More troubling, the boy appeared in constant state of alert. His eyes remained half-lidded even in sleep, body ready to lunge into wakefulness at any moment. Victor had seen soldiers affected by paranoid watchfulness in the wake of particularly bloody missions. It was not a healthy coping mechanism, or one that could be maintained in the long run. Malik would run his body into the ground with stress and lack of proper rest long before he worked through his trauma.

Victor remained where he was until Sofia poked her head from the kitchen doorway, small face pinched in worry. He lifted a hand in greeting. The girl waved back without a perceivable change in expression.

Victor shed his coat and boots. He found Sofia and Malik at the kitchen table, occupied with peeling potatoes. Sofia appeared to be done with her share. Malik was still struggling, his eyes narrowed in grave concentration. The potato clutched in his hands looked rather battle-worn.

Sofia followed Victor's eyes to her companion. A smile briefly lifted her lips.

The chill in Victor's veins thawed. The Soldier oath echoed in his mind, unbidden: For Queen and hearth. Strange that it should matter more now, when he was no longer bound to protect either.

"These would go well with cabbage," Victor said.

Malik made a face. The boy did not eat vegetables voluntarily, a result of his heritage as much as his childish dislike of green, mushy food.

"The cabbage will go bad otherwise," Victor added.

Malik surrendered the potato and peeling knife to Victor with great reluctance. He knew better than to waste food, even green food he did not particularly like. Still, his feet dragged noticeably on his way to the storage room.

Victor took the boy's place at the table. He made short work of the mutilated potato and grabbed another, patiently waiting for Sofia to reach out.

At long last, a small hand tapped Victor's arm. The soldier turned to face her. Sofia watched him expectantly, but did not speak. Victor knew what it was she wished to know. Some days he would sit in silence with her, but he did not have the heart for hope at present. Sofia would speak again when she was ready to do so – and Victor was certain that she would be ready, one day. She was too strong to lose herself in this way.

"All is well in Elsendorf," Victor told her.

It was the truth, however unlikely. Zero's siege lasted a full two weeks, but when the troops pulled out, they did so entirely and without unnecessary casualties – a rarity where Zero was concerned. Whatever magic kept the villagers from paying undue attention to Victor and his charges applied to Zero, as well. Even so, Victor had kept them hidden until he was certain of Zero's departure, and for many days thereafter.

Victor surveyed the village once he was certain the Amith Capil had shifted its attention elsewhere. The only damage done was to the MacLean household, which had been dismantled down to its foundation. Mrs. Hendricks' home was also gone, and so entirely that Victor rather suspected the house had disappeared without help from Zero.

Sofia nodded in gratitude. She still cared for Elsendorf, despite the misfortunes her family had suffered. Victor was uncertain he would be as forgiving in the girl's place. Nonetheless, he was relieved that Sofia remained clear-eyed, unburdened by hatred.

Malik shouldered the door open. He thrust a bruised cabbage head at Victor, then went to tend to the meat. Sofia averted her eyes. The girl no longer consumed meat. Victor did not press the issue; Sofia's aversion to death in all forms was not without a good reason.

Time slipped by in a calm haze. The potatoes were soon bubbling over the fire, the meat simmering in a covered pot. Victor contemplated the dancing flames with distant eyes, mind on what needed to be done before the first chill of winter settled into the land. The house was poorly maintained, as was the barn. Victor has been working on both between visits to Elsendorf. There was still a fair amount to be done if they wished to remain dry and warm in the dark months to come. Victor di not mind the work. He was not looking forward to the forced seclusion of winter. Having nothing to do for days on end was its own form of torture.

The sleepy daze left Victor's eyes. He rose to his feet, suddenly restless. Malik lifted his head, tracking the sudden movement.

"Perimeter check," Victor told him. "You are welcome to accompany me."

Malik turned his attention back to Sofia, feigning disinterest. Victor let him be. The cub would not be able to ignore his instincts for much longer. Winter and hunger drove predators down from the mountains, and Malik would do as Wolf nature demanded: guard his territory and his clan. Victor would soon have a partner for his nightly surveillance of the estate.

Day had melted into night outside. Victor scanned his immediate surroundings. The land between the house and barn had once been a proper courtyard, and it still bore remainders of its previous beauty. Mrs. Korral had obviously invested in the property's upkeep, with her own labor if not the family's dwindling funds. Victor found that he could not fault the woman for her sentimentality. Things of great importance often made no pragmatic sense, especially to outsiders.

Wind howled in the mountains. In the lowlands, the air was dead. Victor walked through the still night and felt as if he was wading through tall water. His senses were on high alert. His mind was absent, preoccupied with things not in the immediate present.

Ira Hale was the youngest Captain Victor had ever served. Five years of shared missions made her the longest-lasting one, as well.

Ira had been new to the rank when Victor was assigned to her team. It had been just the two of them at first; Ira's inexperience disallowed her from picking out fresh recruits, and few established soldiers would willingly choose to serve a Captain who was yet to prove themselves in the field. Victor was aware that his own presence had made matters even more difficult. At thirty-nine, he was among the oldest active soldiers. Where Ira had too little experience, Victor had a little too much. The job caught up with people sooner rather than later. In the eyes of the Amith Capil, Victor had long passed his usefulness.

Their third did not come willingly. Dimitri Radev was assigned to team 2-7 as penance. The first time he had set eyes on the sullen boy – and by the Queen, they all looked like children to him – Victor had wondered if the punishment was meant for Dimitri, or for him and Ira. Lightning was an absolute terror to be around in those early days. Like his namesake, he struck where he willed, at enemy and friend alike, and delighted at leaving chaos in his wake.

Victor's lips turned up at the edges. Dimitri's attitude had improved over the years, but only in some aspects.

The land was quiet. Victor cast his eyes over trees and earth. His ears caught the rustling of feathers.

An old walnut tree grew behind the Korral house. Victor stepped over gnarled roots. His eyes fixed on a black mass that did not quite fit in with the shadows around it. A beak clacked, the sound like a branch snapping. The bird was too large for a crow – possibly a kite, or a hawk. It did not react to Victor's presence. Victor backed away slowly. Some animals postured when they felt threatened. Others grew still and focused, gauging the best moment to strike. Victor did not particularly want to explain bird-related injuries to Sofia and Malik.

Victor made his way into the barn. He took his time inspecting the aged structure, mindful of the many nooks and corners that could conceal unpleasant things. Mice skittered along the walls. Victor ignored them. He had taken precautions against rodents in the main house, but the barn and its contents would not suffer from the presence of a few field mice. The nest of snakes he had discovered under a rotten floorboard, on the other hand, had been exterminated with great prejudice.

Victor paused by a patch of naked earth. He had found the nest there. Ten of them, all knotted together, frozen still in hibernation. Victor could have relocated them with relative ease, at no danger to himself or the serpents.

He had cut off their heads instead.

Victor tapped his heel over hard dirt, satisfied to find no give in the soil. He had filled the hole where the snakes had lain, packing the earth in tightly. He did not see the nest of snakes when he looked at the dark soil. He saw a monster's snapping jaws, Dimitri's terrified face.

The memory brought the matter of Dimitri and the connection between them to the forefront of Victor's mind. Victor was relieved to know that the man was alive. He was far less pleased with the manner in which he had come upon this knowledge. Whoever had created the bond between Victor and Dimitri had done so without Victor's permission. It was an intrusion of privacy the soldier would not easily forgive.

Sofia had told Victor of the events leading up to Dimitri's disappearance, as she knew them. Victor filled the gaps with his own knowledge, and still found much lacking. Ira Hale's whereabouts, Valeri Beufort's involvement and ultimate fate, Dimitri's apparent betrayal of the Queen – all blank spaces in an increasingly alarming picture.

The Korral household gleamed gold in the dark, its windows lit with warmth and life. Victor knocked on the door in a pattern he had made both Sofia and Malik memorize. Sofia answered this time, Malik shouting from inside for them to hurry. The table was set in the kitchen. Malik grunted at Victor from his seat, and dug in as soon as Sofia sat beside him. The girl twisted her friend's ear playfully over his impatience, which had Malik grinning around a mouthful of stew.

Victor stood in the doorway, held still by the moment. It was as if the world was crumbling under his feet. He was a soldier no more, had no purpose beyond caring for these two children. Yet, Victor Fair was content.

If he was to give his life for anything, let it be for Sofia and Malik.