Morning arrived in Valemark with all the subtlety of a merchant hawking discount produce. Sunlight streamed through the Temple guest quarters' windows, illuminating three people who were definitely not discussing the previous night.

  Reyn sat cross-legged on the floor, methodically checking her equipment. Good Deeds lay across her lap as she tested the edge with her thumb, though the blade hardly needed attention. The star-filled sword rested beside her, still nameless despite her best efforts. She'd tried "Night's Edge" this morning, but it felt pretentious.

  Across the room, Jarek had arranged their supplies in neat rows, lips moving silently as he counted. He'd been at it for an hour, starting over each time he reached his wife-related memories and lost track.

  "Seventeen days of dried meat at current consumption," he muttered. "Unless Reyn gets hungry. Then twelve. Huh, my wife likes dried meat. Didn’t she? Do I even like dried meat? What if—"

  "You're spiraling," Reyn said without looking up.

  "I'm contemplating." He rearranged the supplies again. "There's a difference. Spiraling involves panic. This is organized panic, see."

  Venn emerged from the washroom, looking like she'd slept about as well as her red-rimmed eyes, unruly hair and lump walk suggested. She'd changed into practical traveling clothes, her bag of herbs and ointments slung across her shoulder with the looks of someone carrying their entire identity in leather and herbs, if such a look even existed.

  "Ready?" she asked, her voice as neutral as a bird flying past a battlefield.

  Reyn and Jarek exchanged glances. Venn hadn't mentioned the Trial since last night, so neither did they. She'd woken early, attended morning prayers, and returned sometime later with a fixed smile that said that anyone who asked how she was feeling would regret it.

  "We could wait another day," Reyn said as casual as she could. "The beast isn't going anywhere, by the looks of it."

  "Neither is my failure." Venn's smile never wavered. Reyn found it unsettling. "I need to do something useful. Hunting dangerous creatures that’s killed and maimed anyone looking for it seems appropriately distracting."

  “Makes sense,” Reyn said with a nod. Even if her body was healing, she still felt some shame from her Full Frenzy. A feeling she wasn’t used to, and a feeling she certainly did not like.

  "That's... not healthy," Jarek said.

  Venn's half-smile never wavered. "Says the man who forgot his wife existed."

  "That's not my fault! Head trauma is a recognized medical condition! You of all people should know that!"

  "So is emotional trauma, but I'm not using it as an excuse to avoid—"

  "Enough." Reyn stood, sheathing both swords in two fluid motions. She didn’t raise her voice at all, and yet both the others stopped and looked at her. "We're all broken in our own ways. Let's go be broken and fix something we can fix right now, don’t you think?"

  They left the Temple as the morning market was reaching peak chaos. Merchants called their wares with competitive enthusiasm, each trying to outdo their neighbors in volume, bravado and creativity. Someone was selling "Beast-Be-Gone Amulets!"

  "Should we get one?" Jarek asked, eyeing the amulets.

  "Do you think they work?" Venn's tone suggested she already knew the answer.

  "No, but they're shiny. My wife might like... women do like trinkets, don’t they?"

  Reyn steered them away from the merchant before Jarek could spiral into another wife-related crisis. They needed supplies, but more importantly, they needed to move. Action helped. It always did. And Reyn sure could use some action.

  The northern road out of main Valemark was mostly well-maintained for the first mile, then devolved into the kind of path that could just as much have been maintained by sheep, because regular travelers had better things to do than come this way. The old Millwright property lay six miles out, according to Erma's map, in an area where the farmland gave way to scrub forest and rocky outcroppings.

  "Tell me about the Millwright succession dispute," Reyn said as they walked. Conversation would help, even if it was about agricultural politics. Learning the culture of the other kingdoms was part of the Pilgrimage, after all. Even if it bored her to her bones.

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  "House Millwright's previous lord died without clear succession," Jarek explained, seeming grateful for the distraction. "Three cousins claimed the title. The dispute got... heated."

  "Violent?" Venn asked.

  "Legal. Which in Valemark is worse. They spent two years in court arguing about bloodlines and grain rights. By the time they settled, the property had been abandoned so long that nobody wanted to deal with reclaiming it."

  "So it's been empty for years?"

  "Officially. Unofficially, travelers sometimes use the barn for shelter. Or did, at least."

  Reyn raised an eyebrow, glancing toward Jarek. “And this you remember?”

  “You tell me.” Jarek shrugged and sighed. “Feels like I remember the things around me, not the things concerning me.”

  “That’s harsh,” Venn said.

  Jarek smiled. “Or a blessing.”

  The further they traveled, the quieter the world became. First the bird songs faded, then the insect noise, until they walked through a thick silence that made every footstep seem loud.

  "That's not ominous at all," Jarek muttered.

  Venn had grown progressively paler as they walked, though whether from exhaustion, fear or the night before was unclear. She kept touching her healer's bag, as if reassuring herself it was still there.

  "I could have saved one of them," she said suddenly.

  Reyn glanced at her. "The Trial?"

  "If I'd chosen immediately. Quick decision, one lives. But I tried to find another way. I had to save them both. I wasted time looking for a solution that didn't exist." Her laugh was bitter. "A healer who can't choose who to heal. What use is that?"

  "A healer who sees all life as equally valuable," Reyn countered as she stepped over a small brook. "That's not weakness."

  "It is when people die because of it."

  "People who didn't exist," Jarek added. "It was an illusion, remember."

  "It felt real enough to me..." Venn's voice cracked. "How do you choose between futures you can't see?"

  "You don't," Reyn said, ducking under a branch. "You choose based on what's in front of you based on your instincts and what feels right. I would choose the child, as it feels more right than saving some unknown kingdom where the leader won’t sacrifice himself for his subjects."

  "A practical viewpoint would suggest—" Jarek began.

  "That we're about to have bigger problems," Reyn interrupted, pointing ahead.

  The old Millwright property sprawled before them, a collection of buildings that had seen better decades. The main house listed to one side, windows dark and empty. The barn stood more solidly, though its doors hung open like a broken mouth. Everything had the sort of ? decay that came from abandonment rather than destruction.

  Except for the blood.

  A trail of it, still wet enough to glisten, led from the forest toward the barn. Not drops but a steady stream, as if someone had been dragged while bleeding. Or had dragged themselves.

  Reyn drew Good Deeds, the blade singing softly as it cleared the sheath. "Stay alert."

  They followed the blood trail lead by Venn whose instincts were overriding her emotional exhaustion. "Seems recent," she said, examining the consistency. "Whoever lost this much..."

  "Won't be walking away," Jarek finished. “I think.”

  The trail led to a copse of trees just beyond the barn. There, propped against an old oak, sat what had once been a man. His clothes, or what remained of them, told of prosperity: fine fabric, well-tailored, the kind of outfit worn by someone who expected to impress rather than survive.

  He was still breathing, barely.

  Venn rushed forward, dropping to her knees beside him. Her hands glowed with the fain blue healing light as she assessed the damage. Claw marks raked across his chest, too deep to be survivable. Bite marks on his shoulder and arms. The same pattern as Lander, but worse. So much worse.

  "You're going to be okay," she lied with the smooth practice of a healer who'd made that promise before, her voice kind and calm. "What happened?"

  The dying man's eyes focused on her face. Something like recognition flickered there, followed by an expression Reyn knew too well. Shame. Embarrassment. The look of someone whose last thoughts were of humiliation rather than fear.

  "It's..." He coughed, blood speckling his lips. "It's..."

  "Shh," Venn soothed, pouring more healing energy into wounds that wouldn't hold it. Hopefully it would dull the pain. "Take your time. What happened?"

  The man stared at her, and for a moment his expression shifted to something almost peaceful. "I don't... want to... talk about it."

  Then he died.

  The silence that followed was broken only by Venn's shaky breathing as she slowly closed the man's eyes.

  "He said the same thing," Jarek said, his eyes wide in disbelief. "The same thing as that student."

  Reyn studied the corpse. The wounds were savage. As if the beast had been playing rather than simply killing. The man's clothes were shredded to a level beyond shredded.

  "Look," she said, pointing to the blood trail. It continued past where they'd found the body, leading deeper into the forest. Toward the old Millwright barn, but taking a winding path that suggested either the beast or its victim had been in no hurry.

  Or had been engaged in some kind of chase.

  "Whatever did this," Venn said, standing on unsteady legs, "it's not just an animal."

  "No," Reyn agreed, hefting Good Deeds. "It's not."

  The blood trail beckoned, a bloody invitation into whatever waited in the shadows between the trees. Behind them, the dead man's expensive clothes fluttered in a breeze that carried the scent of musk and something else. Something that made Reyn's instincts scream warnings her mind couldn't quite interpret.

  "We should follow it," Venn said, though she looked like she wanted to do anything but.

  "Yes," Reyn said. "You might consider staying back."

  “No,” both Venn and Jarek said.

  “Fine. Together then.”

  As they moved toward the tree line, following the path of blood, none of them voiced what they were all thinking. Two victims now, both too embarrassed to speak of what had happened to them.

  What kind of creature killed with shame?