chapter seventeen.

WE STILL SAW SHOOTS OF NEW GRASSES AND even a few wildflowers, but there were fewer signs of spring as we headed north to Tsibeya and into the wild reaches where Mal believed he would find the stag. The dense pines gave way to sparse birchwood forests and then to long stretches of grazing land.

Though Mal regretted our trip into the village, he soon had to admit that had been a necessity. The nights grew colder as we traveled north, and cookfires weren't an option as we drew closer to the outpost at Chernast.

We also didn't want to waste time hunting or trapping food every day, so we relied on our supplies and nervously watched them dwindle. Something between Mal and Alina had thawed, and instead of the stony silence of the Petrazoi, they walked as they talked.

He seemed curious to hear about life in the Little Palace, the strange ways of the court, and even Grisha's theory. He wasn't all shocked when Alina told him about the contempt with which most Grisha regarded the King. Apparently, the trackers had been grumbling more and more loudly amongst themselves about the King's incompetence.

"The Fjerdans have a breech-loading rifle that can fire twenty-eight rounds per minute. Our soldiers should have them, too. If the King could be bothered to take an interest in the First Army, we wouldn't be so dependent on the Grisha. But it'll never happen," He told us, then muttered, "we all know who's running this country."

Alina and I said nothing. We tried avoiding talking about the Darkling as much as possible. When I asked about the time Mal had spent tracking the stag, he always seemed to find a way to bring the conversation back to me. Because I'd told him about my time as a tracker. But I didn't press him. Alina and I were well aware that Mal's unit had crossed the borders into Fjerda.

We suspected that they'd had to fight their way out and that was where Mal had acquired the scar on his jaw, be he refused to say more. But if they'd gotten into Fjerda, why had the darkling lied to me about not being able to get over here? Unless he was just trying to keep me distracted just as he'd kept Alina distracted.

As we were walking through a band of desiccated willows, the forest crunching beneath our boots, Mal pointed out a sparrow hawk nest, and I found myself wishing that we could just keep walking forever. As much as we longed for a hot meal and a warm bed, we were afraid of what our journey might bring.

What if we found the stag, and Alina claimed the antlers? How might an amplifier that powerful change Alina? Would it be enough to free us from the Darkling? If only we could stay this way, walking side by side, a little trio, sleeping huddled beneath the stars. Maybe these empty plains and quiet groves could shelter us as they sheltered Morozova's herd and keep us safe from the man who sought us.

The thoughts were foolish. Tsibeya was an inhospitable place, a wild and empty world of bitter winters and grueling summers. And we weren't strange and ancient creatures who roamed the earth at twilight. We were just Freya, Alina, and Mal, and we could not stay ahead of our pursuers forever.

A dark thought had flitted through my head for days now finally settled. I sighed, knowing that I had put off talking to either of them.

❂♕

That night when Alina and Mal were almost asleep, I worked the courage to speak faintly. "Alina." I said, "Mal."

Instantly the two came awake, tension flooding through Mal's body, and he sat up reaching for his knife but Alina was grabbing his hand. "No." She said, "everything's all right."

I nodded when the two gave me curious glances, "I need..." I swallowed, "I need you two to do something for me."

Alina sat up, "what is it?" I released a shaking sigh, "If we don't make it...if they catch up to us before we find the stag, you can't let him take my power." I said.

Alina and Mal went still. But Alina was already shaking her head, "no." She said. "No I know what you are doing and I will not do it."

I shook my head and smiled sadly, "I will not let him take my other half." I said, "this power has opened so many wonderful opportunities to me. I met you, I met Genya." I whispered.

"I've gotten everything I wish I didn't need." I said, "but I need you to do this for me, please." I whispered feeling tears spring to the surface.

Mal was pushing back up onto his elbows beside Alina shaking his head, "Look Freya, I know that I barely know you but I've come to like you since I met you, and I say no. we will not."

I opened my mouth to protest but Alina was shuffling over and grabbing me by the shoulders, "We will not be killing you, Freya Julikov. That is my answer and so would it be Genya's if she was here."

I stared into her eyes, hurt and fury filled them, but so did fear. Fear of what it would be like if I wasn't there with her if it came down to me dying. I hated thinking about it, but I was running out of opinions. I didn't want my power taken from me, so death would it be.

Your power belongs to you, not him, not to anyone, you. I told myself, "Alina." I whispered but she was shaking her head vigorously.

"No!" She shouted, "killing you will not be an option! Ever! Do you hear me?!" I stared at her, I knew I couldn't get her to see my point, but I also couldn't get her to change her mind.

I nodded, knowing I was lying, and whispered, "okay." I said, "no dying,"

Alina's eyes relaxed, but her firm grip on my shoulders seemed to tighten. I looked down at my lap, trying to keep my gaze anywhere but at her because I knew I was lying to her and I hated it.

A tear rolled down my cheek right then and there, and I had almost forgotten I'd been crying. Alina let out a loud shaking sigh and pulled me into an embrace.

I felt numb in her arms like my whole body was being stabbed by the cold icy air. But I pretended it wasn't there, I let Alina hold me because right now, that was all I really needed anyways at the moment. 

❂♕

We spent the next few days in the areas surrounding Chernast, scouring miles of terrain for signs of Morozova's herd, drawing as close to the outpost as we dared. With each passing day, my mood darkened. I tossed and turned in my sleep and barely ate.

Sometimes I would awake screaming, the nightmares occurring of me losing my power. Alina or even sometimes Mal would have to calm me down in the nights after the nightmares and reassure me that I wasn't going to lose it.

Mal saw signs of other people— broken branches, displaced rocks, patterns that were invisible to both Me and Alina until he pointed them out— but no signs of the stag.

Then one morning, he shook me and Alina awake before dawn. "Get up." He said. "They're close, I can feel it." He was already pulling the furs off of us and shoving them back into his pack.

"Hey!" Alina complained, barely awake, trying to yank back the covers to no avail. "What about breakfast?"

He tossed us a piece of hardtack. "Eat and walk. I want to try the western trails today. I have a feeling."

"But yesterday you thought we should head east," I said through a yawn. "That was yesterday." He said, already shouldering his pack and striding into the tall grass. "Get moving you two. We need to find the stag so we don't have to chop off anyone's head."

"I didn't say you had to chop off my head," I grumbled with a scowl, rubbing my eyes from my sleep and helping Alina get to her feet after I had.

We stumbled after him slowly, "Run you through with a sword, then? Firing squad?" He asked, "Well, not exactly, I was thinking of something more quiet, like maybe a nice poison." I said.

Alina groaned, "Well we aren't going to kill you, so can we not talk about it." I stuck out my tongue at her, but I was glad to see her so energized, and I supposed she glad to especially after I went days of barely talking, sleeping, and eating.

The western trails took us through groves of squat larches and past meadows clustered with fireweed and red lichen. Mal moved with purpose up ahead, me and Alina following silently behind. The air felt cold and damp, and a few times I caught him glancing nervously up at the overcast sky, but he drove own wards.

Late in the afternoon, we reached a low hill that sloped gently down into a broad plateau covered in pale grass. Mal paced along the top of the slope, raging west and then east. He walked down the hill and up the hill, and down it again, until I thought I would scream. At last, he led us to the leeward side of a large cluster of boulders, slid his pack off his shoulder, and handed it over to Alina.

I and Alina shook a fur out on the cold ground and sat to wait, watching Mal pace uneasily back and forth. Finally, he sat down beside Alina, eyes trained on the plateau, one hand resting lightly on his bow.

We knew he was imagining them there, picturing the herd emerging from the horizon, white bodies glowing in the gathering dusk, breath pluming in the cold. Maybe he was willing them to appear. This seemed like the right place for the stag— fresh with new grass and spotted with tiny blue lakes that shone like coins in the setting sun.

The sun melted away and we watched the plateau turn blue in the twilight. We waited, listing to the sound of our own breaths and the wind moaning over the vastness of Tsibeya. But as soon as the light faded, the plateau stayed empty.

The moon rose, obscured by clouds. Mal didn't move. He sat still as stone, staring out into the reaches of the plateau, his blue eyes distant. I and Alina pulled out our fur from the pack and wrapped it around our shoulders. Here, in the lee of the rock, we were protected from the worst of the wind, but it wasn't much for shelter.

Then Mal sighed deeply from beside Alina and squinted up at the night sky. "It's going to snow. I should have taken us into the woods, but I thought.." he shook his head, "I was so sure."

"It's okay." Alina said, leaning her head against his shoulder, "maybe tomorrow."

"Our supplies won't last us forever, and every day we're out here is another chance for us getting caught." He said. "tomorrow." Alina said again.

"For all we know, he's found the herd already. He's killed the stag and now they're hunting you two." I shook my head, "I don't believe that."

Mal said nothing. Alina pulled the fur up higher around us and let the tiniest bit of light blossom from her hand. "What are you doing?" Mal asked.

"I'm cold." Alina shrugged, "it isn't safe." He said yanking the fur up to hide the light that shone on his face.

"We haven't seen another living soul for over a week. And staying hidden won't do us much good if we freeze to death." He frowned at Alina but then reached out, letting his fingers play in the light, and said, "That's really something."

"Thanks," Alina said smiling. "Mikhael is dead." The light sputtered in Alina's hand, "what?" she squeaked.

"He's dead. He was killed in Fjerda. Dubrov, too." Alina sat froze in shock. "I didn't realize.." she hesitated, "how did it happen?"

For a moment, I didn't know if he would answer but then he started at the light that glimmered in her hand and said, "We were way up north near the permafrost, way past the outpost at Chernast." He said quietly, "We had hunted the stag almost all the way into Fjerda. The captain came up with this idea that a few of us should cross the border disguised as Fjerdans and keep tracking the herd. It was stupid, ridiculous really. Even if we managed to get through the border country undiscovered, what were we supposed to do if we caught up with the herd? We had had orders not to kill the stag, so we'd have to capture it and then somehow get it back over the border into Ravka. It was insane."

Alina and I nodded. It did sound crazy. "So that night, Mikhael and Dubrov and I laughed about it, talked about how it was a suicide mission and how the captain was a complete idiot, and we toasted the poor bastards who got stuck with the job. And the next morning I volunteered."

"Why?" Alina asked, startled. Mal went silent again. At last, he said, "you saved my life on the shadow fold, Alina."

"And you saved mine." She countered, unsure of what any of that had to do with a suicide mission into Fjerda.

"You saved my life and then in the Grisha tent, they led you away, I didn't do anything. I stood there and let them take you." Mal said, "what were you supposed to do Mal?"

"Something. Anything." He said, "Mal—" he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "I know it doesn't make sense. But it's how I felt."

I suddenly felt uncomfortable, like I was intruding on their private business, but I could help myself from not prying in. "I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. I kept seeing you walk away, seeing you disappear."

"I knew we were hunting the stag for the Darkling." Mal continued, "I thought... I had this idea that if I found the herd, I could help you. I could help make things right." He glanced at Alina, "Mikhael didn't know any of that. He was my friend, so like an ass, he voluntarily, too. And then, of course, Dubrov had to sign on. I told them not to, but Mikhael just laughed and said he wasn't going to let me get all the glory."

"What happened?" Alina asked, "nine of us crossed the border, six soldiers and three trackers. Two of us came back." His words hung in the air, cold and final. Seven men dead in pursuit of the stag. And how many others that we didn't know about? But even as I thought it, a disturbing idea entered my mind: How many lives could the stag's power save? Mal and Alina were refugees, born to wars that had raged at Ravka's borders for so long.

What if the Darkling and the terrible power of the Shadow Fold could stop all that? Could silence Ravka's enemies and make us safe forever?

Not just Ravka's enemies, I reminded myself, anyone, who stands against the Darkling, anyone who dares oppose him. The Darkling would make the world a wasteland before he ceded two bits of power.

Mal rubbed a tired hand over his tired face, "It was all for nothing anyways. The herd crossed back into Ravka when the weather turned. We could have just waited for the stag to come to us."

"I'm sorry, Mal. I'm so sorry." Alina whispered, "It's not your fault, Alina. I made my own choices. But those choices got my friends killed."

"It's not any of our faults." Alina said, "Mikhael and Dubrov made their own choices, too. Mikhael wanted to be a good friend to you. And for all you know, he had his reasons for wanting to track the stag. He wasn't a child, and he wouldn't want to be remembered as one."

Mal didn't look at her, but for a moment he laid his hand over hers. We were still sitting that way when the first flakes of snow began to fall.