Even his own family were like strangers. When first he'd been brought home, he very nearly feared them, for they seem to know so much about him and he seemed to know nothing about them. He remembered them, of course. It wasn't as though he had his memories cleaned from his mind as some of the soldiers had. It was more as though his emotions had been wrested from his heart instead. There stood before him his mother and his father and his sisters and his brothers.

And he felt nothing.

That had passed finally, for one could not remain in the midst of all that generous outpouring of love and not absorb such a tutoring of the heart. His love was different now, however, fierce and mute and protective instead of gentle and laughing. Sometimes he almost thought it ran deeper than before. He'd been careless with that love at one time. He'd been careless with his friends, his brothers, his sisters, and most especially his parents. Someone named Lysander had grown up in that house so immersed in love that he breathed it in and considered it as little as he did the very air around him.

He'd sauntered fecklessly away from that love, donning a uniform as if it were yet another costume, a bit of family playacting, a merry bit of theater. He remembered that the other Lysander had done that but now he could not imagine he had ever felt that way himself. Careless, stupid man — to have no fear of what was to come.

"Hero" wasn't a word that Lysander believed in anymore. Neither was "Coward." He'd learned through harsh experience that there could come a dark place of fear so deep that one really had no choice about how one reacted to it.

A scuffling sound came from in front of him and Lysander look down, pausing in mid-step. The dog was in front of him, facing him with its head lowered. The bushy tail no longer whacked happily. Eyeing it warily, Lysander moved to step around it. The dog moved to match him and continue to block his way.

It is herding me.

Was he a sheep, to be so directed by this shaggy beast?

Lysander took a moment to seriously ponder the question. Now that he thought about it, it did seem sheep-foolish to be stalking around an unfamiliar landscape in the dark. The moon was dimming behind a thin sheen of clouds. The bit of light he had might soon be gone.

He lifted his head and looked about him. He could still see the vague line of the path he was on cutting through the grass but very little else was visible. Even if there were farmsteads within sight, likely they would have no lanterns lighted at this hour.

Lysander looked back down at the dog.

How is it that you are allowed to ride through England on your own?