It was the next morning when Emma awoke. She was slightly perplexed, for she couldn’t remember falling asleep. Clearly, she had needed it, after the ordeal of the past few days and having her slumber interrupted twice the day before. Remembering that, she turned to see Jo sleeping peacefully a few feet away.

Emma smiled, then realized she was holding something. Looking down, she was shocked to see that she was still clasping Jo’s hand. Had she fallen asleep doing that? Gently, she released her grip, glad that Jo wasn’t awake to see her face aflame.

Fortunately, she had regained her composure by the time Jo stirred. His walk was steadier, though still shaky, as she helped him to the door of the lavatory. Jo was quietly grateful to her, having at times previously been forced to drag himself to the small room. Emma seethed at the thought, wondering how…

Helmer couldn’t recall the last time he had been so happy. Certainly, in the years since he had joined the army of King Jupiter he had not known such celebration. It wasn’t that First Warren had no festivals of its own, or that his family never gathered for such meals. But since becoming a soldier, Helmer had always been conscious of the fact that he would soon be leaving for his next mission.

Sitting with Sigrid and the children, however, Helmer found himself able to let go of any such thoughts. The jubilation of the younglings was infectious, and their open-hearted welcome touched him deeply. And the obvious affection between them and Sigrid was also touching to see. Helmer found himself marveling at his golden-furred friend all over again.

It was undoubtedly this preoccupation that kept Helmer from noticing the new arrivals. Sigrid saw them first, and upon seeing her…

Harlan Seer didn’t run far, all things considered. Just far enough that he wouldn’t have to see or hear the end he knew had come for Stam. There was no point in trying to go further. It had been years since he could travel at speed for any length of time.

Old, Harlan thought ruefully as he stumped to a halt. He could still remember the days when, as a child, he had thought his parents old. Then, in that reversal that he privately thought must always bring a smile to the face of Firstfather, the day had come when Harlan’s own children had called him old. And then had come that not altogether welcome epithet of Wizened Warrior.

It had been given to him a long time ago.

Stam should have lived to grow old. For that matter, so should have Fesslehorn, Gome, Perkin, and Pickwand. Perhaps no one…

Pickwand watched as the Walter made its way down the Goforth River, fleeing First Warren to the south. Aboard it, alongside many other noble refugees, was most of the royal family, including Princes Winslow and Whitbie. Pickwand could do no more for them than he had done. He could only hope that the enemy did not have any additional forces moving in the south.

Screams and explosions filling the air around him, the Lord Captain pondered how things could have gone wrong so swiftly. One of his ships, barely seaworthy, had come limping down the River Fay just as the Preylord armada arrived overhead. Its acting commander, a lieutenant young enough to be Pickwand’s son, had struggled to make his report. Only the obvious urgency of his news had been enough to make him choke back his tears as he spoke.

The vessel had come from Ayman Lake, where all but…