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“What?” His voice was so low, I had to strain to hear him.

“… the new moon … we can’t … I’ll never …”

Whatever he was trying to say, the words were lost as his eyes closed and his head slumped back.

“Jeddak? Jeddak, no!” I cried.

Kah whimpered. Tears stung my eyes.

Don’t die, Jeddak. Please, please, please don’t die.

26

Jeddak

Iwas home, curled up on my bed, staring out the window. Outside, heavy snow was falling, obscuring my view of the mountains.I hate this place, I thought as I hugged my throbbing arm to my chest. It was broken this time, I was sure of it.

An hour ago, Kah had given up on trying to convince me to go see my grandmother for help and was entertaining himself by trying to catch a mouse that had scurried underneath the bed. He didn’t seem to realize he’d recently grown too big to crawl under there anymore.

There was a knock at the door. “Jeddak? Can I come in?”

When I didn’t answer, I heard the door open and soft footsteps moving across the floor.

My mother sat down on the edge of the bed next to me.

“Oh no, Jeddak. What happened?” she asked, gently brushing my hair off my forehead. Her skin smelled like juneberries and the warm autumn sun.

“Nothing,” I said, not looking up so she wouldn’t see the tear stains on my face. I had a high tolerance for pain, but not for failure.

“Well, your version of ‘nothing’ must be different than mine.”

I managed a small smile. “Father made me train on the advanced course again…” I trailed off, not wanting to explain that I’d fallen off one of the platforms in front of the older kids and broken my arm. My father had called me weak right before I’d run back home.

A flicker of emotion flashed across her face. “Your father just wants you to grow up to be strong. But what he doesn’t know is that you’re already strong.”

“I don’t feel strong.”I feel like a failure.

“Youarestrong, Jeddak,” she said, carefully pulling me into a hug. In a moment, I knew she’d take me to my grandmother to heal the broken bone, but for now, she seemed to sense that I needed a little more time. She touched my chest. “You’re strong in here. And that’s all that matters.”

I shook my head. That wasn’t all that mattered. I wanted to be stronger. To become the strongest Kovak in our tribe. And I wanted to prove my father wrong.

27

Raven

Skies, this was not happening. With trembling hands, I felt for Jeddak’s pulse. It was faint, but there. I released a shaky breath.

He was alive.

I needed to stop the bleeding and bandage his wound if he had any chance of surviving. If there was one thing I’d learned in the mines, it was that a wound would become angry and red if the dirt and sweat didn’t get washed off. I’d seen fellow workers die of lesser injuries when they caught infection.

To do that, I needed light for me and warmth for both of us. I pulled the moonspar out of my pocket to see if it was glowing, but with the moon still high in the sky, it was lifeless. My heart pounded rapidly as I piled wood on top of the ashes of our previous fire. Because I was shaking, it took at least ten tries with the flint and iron before I could get a spark to ignite it.

When the fire finally took hold, I knelt beside Jeddak, gently pulling his hand away from the wound. He was still unconscious, his skin hot and coated in blood.

Kah looked on from the entrance to the alcove, his attention split between Jeddak and the dark courtyard. I hoped he waskeeping watch. If any more Rathalans found us tonight, we didn’t stand much of a chance.

Unless the hidden bowman was still out there. Who was he—or maybe she? Why had he protected us? And why was anyone in Javan in the first place? If the Kovaks had an ally here, wouldn’t he have shown himself by now?