Branches, straw, and twigs rose in a pile beneath Laira's feet. She watched a grub crawl down a birch branch, only for a robin to land, suck it up, and fly off. Strangely, the sight almost comforted to her.

I will burn. I will scream. I will rise to my mother. But the world will go on. Birds will fly, grubs will die, the leaves will fall and bud again. Maybe I'm as small and meaningless as that grub.

Zerra came walking through the crowd, heading toward her, holding a torch. A cruel smile twisted his features, lipless on the burnt half of his face. His fur cloak billowed in the wind, revealing his bronze sword—the most precious weapon in their tribe. When he reached her, he held his torch close, and the heat and smoke stung Laira and invaded her nostrils. She grimaced.

"Aye, you were a sweet one in my bed." Drool dripped down his chin and he grabbed his groin. "It's almost a shame to burn you. You were as hot and smooth as your mother was. I claimed her too, did you know? Your father abandoned her for me to take." He smirked. "Mother and daughter—both mine to bed and burn."

Laira found rage filling her, overflowing her moment of stoicism.

"You lie!" She spat on his face. "My father is a great warrior-prince across the sea. He is stronger than you, and his sword is wider and longer. My mother was just as strong. She never submitted to you as I did. You will forever bear the mark of her strength upon your ravaged face."

Slowly, he wiped the spit off. His hand wet with her saliva, he struck her. The blow snapped Laira's head to the side, rattling her teeth, searing her with white light. The torch crackled only inches from her, only heartbeats away from igniting the pyre.

"Half my body is burnt," Zerra said. "I think that, after I've burned all of yours, I will pull you from the flames. I will keep you half-alive, writhing and begging for death. I will heal you. For long moons, you will scream in your tent, and we will apply ointments, bandages, prayers . . . then burn you again, only to repeat the cycle. I wonder how many burnings you will survive. I will try to make it many. You will end up envying your mother."

Laira grimaced as the torch drew nearer, singing her cheek, and her heart thrashed. She gritted her teeth.

No. I will not give up. I will fight even as the fire blazes.

She gave the ropes binding her a mighty tug. But they only chafed her wrists, keeping her arms tied behind her to the stake. She tried to kick, but the ropes dug into her ankles, and blood trickled onto her bare feet.

"Yes, struggle for me." Zerra leaned forward and licked her cheek. He brought the ravaged half of his face near her eyes. "Look at my scars, child. Soon all your body will look like this."