“I won’t say a word,” Hort says, gripping my arm while I haul him outside.

Once I shut the door behind us, it’s just me and him and the howling wind. The storm is starting to break, and the ground is covered in a fresh blanket of snow as far as the eye can see. Each step crunches through a few inches of it as I move forward and release the man. He stumbles and falls, his bad leg giving out beneath him.

“I’m sure you think you won’t,” I say, my voice flat. “But if the enemy comes here? If they threaten to kill your family and destroy your village? If they torture you? Then will you be able to hold your tongue?”

He looks up at me, his mouth working silently for a few moments before he manages a word.

“Please.”

I grimace in disgust. Not an argument, not a denial—merely a please, again. I wish this man would at least put up a fight, at least give me some reason to consider doing something other than what I have to do. I crouch beside him so we come face-to-face. He’s trembling in the cold, his breath coming in short puffs, but I’m barely aware of it myself.

“What’s the nearest fort?” I ask. He stares at me. “Sketa?” He nods. “Run there,” I say. “Run as fast as you can and don’t stop. When you get there, beg to serve them however you can. Never speak of what you saw, and never come back here. That’s the only way you’ll be safe.”

He continues to stare, jaw gaping dumbly, tears freezing on his cheeks.

“Do you understand?” I ask, my voice rising, and he snaps his mouth shut and nods.

“But my family—”

“The village will care for them.”

“And my leg—”

“The storm is breaking. Go, now, and hopefully you won’t meet any trouble on the way.”

When I rise, he scrambles to his feet as well.

“Thank you, sir,” he says, touching his fingers to his heart. “Thank you. Thank you. I will go, I promise.”

When I don’t say another word, he turns his back and starts to run. I’m thankful for the wind, then, because it stops him from hearing me move behind him. I inhale deeply and take aim at the back of his head.

He’s not aware of the shot streaking toward him until he falls.

I stand there, breathing in lungfuls of icy air and staring at the splash of red across the white ground. Soon, fresh snow begins to cover it. I lower my weapon and tilt my face upward, staring at the stormy sky.