How much time does she have left? Days? Hours? The maxia Kit had been using since the start of their journey likely wasn’t helping matters either. Anji tore her gaze from Kit to the hill and the relic at its crown. She ran her tongue along her bottom lip, but stopped and wiped at it. Too cold for that.

“Off,” said Kit, patting at the horse’s flank. “Let her rest.”

“You might take that advice yourself.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Anji scoffed and looked back at Kit. “You look ready to transform right here. You’re losing weight, your eyes are getting red.”

Kit glared up at her. “I’m fine. Get off.”

“What happened to the Bear?” said Anji.

“I don’t know,” said Kit. She sniffed and wiped at her nose and motioned for Anji to dismount. Anji stayed in the saddle.

“You don’t know? What about Jared? Is the Goat even dead?” Her lip trembled. “Oh gods, she killed Berip, Kit, she just—”

“Stop that,” said Kit. “We can’t do this here. Please, we can’t—” She doubled over, coughing, one hand to her knee. The Hawk groaned and spat and stood straight again, her eyes puffed, the whites veined with red. “We need to get out of the cold.”

Anji slid out of the saddle. She thought she heard Kit mutter a thank-you, but the wind was starting to pick up.

They trekked up the slope in silence apart from their panting. Anji didn’t mind. She’d wanted answers, something Kit might have been holding back till now, something that might justify the death of a little boy. But what she wanted wouldn’t make a difference. She didn’t feel much like talking anymore. Didn’t feel much like anything. What was the point of going on? Even if she were somehow able to get the bag open, to get Kit to tell her how—if she could, what then? If she killed Kit and took back her things, there would only be this: a barren expanse of moss and rock and dirt at her back, and the ocean ahead. Hills tumbling on and on until they grew to mountains unpassable. She could run, but the hiding would never stop. Death would follow her forever.

If not for me, Berip would still be alive. Kaia. Libby.

Was that Kit’s reason for wanting to spirit her through Kiva so quickly? Did she know Anji’s mere presence would mean death for the people the Hawk loved? Anji felt unclean, like poison, a spreading sickness to be burned away. No good could come of her going on. No good had come from anything she’d thought she’d accomplished.

She’d done nothing. Whatever remained of her life was forfeit however she looked at it.