Still, that didn't stop him from emptying his bowl a second time and holding it out for another refill. The strong kalg made everything seem a little less grim, death not as final, their journey not as desperate. It made it easier not to think about Callun and Hellic and their slit throats, the generals' executions, and Thais controlled by King Halvard on his family's throne. He wouldn't get drunk, but he deserved to relax a little.

“How's your arm?” Ren asked when Niklas came over to sit beside him. It had been neatly wrapped with white linen.

“Feels all right,” Niklas said, testing it by turning his arm slowly. Then he gestured to the Lowlanders. “Pretty unsettling, huh?”

“Well, they haven't tried to kill us yet,” Ren said.

“You should get rid of him now.”

“Hmm?” Ren looked across at Niklas, the light from the fire giving his friend's green eyes and curly hair a golden hue.

Niklas wasn't looking at him, but at Anik. “These are his people. I'm sure he wouldn't mind staying with them.” Niklas returned his gaze to Ren.

“I still need his help.”

“We can figure it out on our own,” Niklas argued. “We just need to know which way is north. Stag's Run is so close, now.”

Ren shook his head. “There isn't time to experiment. We need to know exactly where we're going.”

“You don't know if he killed your family – killed Hellic.”

Ren's mind struggled to keep up with the conversation. The mention of Hellic brought with it memories that Ren didn't want to think about. “I don't think he did, Niklas. I don't want to talk about this.” He stood.

Niklas gripped his wrist and gave him a pointed look. “Don't drink any more of that kalg. You're going to be drunk off your ass.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ren said, for once wishing Niklas would just leave him alone.

“Ren. I'm serious.”

Ren tugged his hand from Niklas' grip.

Someone grabbed Ren by the wrist and tugged him towards the edge of the clearing. A game was being set up. Ren wasn't sure what the rules were, but he played anyway. It had something to do with knocking sticks down in a certain order by throwing rocks at them. Ren was terrible at it. Everybody laughed. Anik laughed, too. His eyes glowed golden in the light of the fire, creased at the corners, sharp canines revealed by his smile. He was even more handsome when he smiled.

“Niklas, you try. I don't want to be the worst one at this,” Ren said, looking around to find his friend, but Ren couldn't spot him. Instead, he left the line of throwers and passed his rocks to a young girl with a blonde braid so long she could almost wrap it around her waist as a belt.