The screams have finally stopped.

I crawl out from under the cart and look around. No one moves in the street. Here and there I think I see one of the dead people shift, but the fires send flickering shadows to trick my eyes. Everything starts to blur, and I slap myself. No more crying.

Mr. Hagen is on his back nearby. He used to sell sweets to me and Liam for almost nothing. Now he’s looking up at the sky with dead eyes, a hole the size of my head in his chest. I think his wife lays across from him, but her face is chewed up like something tried eating her.

I walk down the street in near silence. Most of the buildings I pass are smoking piles of ash, and the ones that aren’t still burning look abandoned. My mother and sister were somewhere around here when I followed Father into the smoke. I can only hope they hid well.

“Galmar, it’s time to leave.” A harsh voice from around the corner.

I press myself against what remains of a wall, scoot closer and listen. There’s a ripping sound, then a series of growls.

“Fine,” a new voice says. “Was getting full anyway.”

Their steps lead away, and I wait. When I’m sure they’re gone, I peer around the bend.

Mrs. Anster and her sister are on the ground, their insides everywhere like something tore them open from the inside. My stomach sours and I can’t stop the vomit. Why. It’s the same thing I’ve been asking since Brother told us to hide and that the Hafthan had come. I’d asked who they were, and why they were here. It was the only time I ever saw Liam scared.

“They’re monsters,” he’d said. “And they come for us.”

Now I don’t know where he is. Him or Father. I’d followed Father when he grabbed his pitchfork and set off down the road. Mother and Kyna followed for a while, begging us to turn back. Father told them we’d be fine, that I was close enough to a man and I could help defend the village. When he gave me his dagger, I felt so brave. But I dropped it when those two Hafthan found me in the street. It was all I could do not to run at the sight of them. They wore leather and fur, their hair wild. They looked more like animals than people.

Monsters. I want to cry again, but not because I’m sad. My insides feel hot, burning like a field stone in the height of summer. It’s all I can do not to scream.

“Look at this Olen. I think the poor creature is lost.”

My body freezes, my inner fire put out in an instant. It takes all the will I have to turn my head toward the voice.

“Maybe we should let it go? Braniel will want us back to the ships soon.”

Two Hafthan, one tall and holding a spear, the other short and thick with an axe and belt of knives. I didn’t even hear them come up behind me.

“But it has such defiant eyes, Olen. Can we really let this one run free?” the tall one says, red glistening on his lips and down his chest.

The short one laughs. “True. I hate it when the rats look at me like that. You.” He points a fat finger at me. “At least try and make this interesting.”

I run. My legs burn but I force them forward. I hop over dead people and bits of tumbled buildings, waiting to feel the sting of a spear in my back. Something catches my foot and I tumble. Ash in my fists, I claw to my feet, one of the missionary priests from Zandalor beneath me, his throat cut. Turning a corner, I try and make it to the forest. If I can just make it there, I know I can escape. Even Liam never finds me when I hide in the trees.

“Too slow.” Something hits me in the leg, and I tumble.

Rolling in the dirt, I hear them laughing.

“Did it really think it could get away?”

I scoot back and try and stand, but my body won’t listen to me.

“It certainly was trying. Though I was hoping it would fight. Cowardly little thing it turned out to be.” The short one peers past me into the forest. “Did you really think you could escape us in there? We’re Hafthan boy. The land and its roots belong to us.” He kicks me in the stomach and I wretch, squeezing my ribs to halt the pain.

On the ground nearby I see something shining in the dim fire light. A sword.

“Go ahead and finish him, Olen. Before Braniel starts sending people to look for us.”

The short one sneers, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth. “You’re the one that wanted one last little chase before we went home.” He hefts his massive axe onto one shoulder. “If we get a chewing, that’s on you.”

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Just as he rotates to bring the axe down, I roll. As I snatch up the sword, I hear the axe smash the dirt where I just was. On my feet I do my best to heft the blade up, but the long bit of steel is too heavy.

“I think that’s a little too big for you,” the tall one says, smiling, readying his spear.

Ten summers old and I still can’t properly lift a sword. It’s all I can do to keep the tip from tracing lines in the dirt.

“You were a fast little rat at least.” The Hafthan with the axe grunts. “But I can see it in your eyes. You’re a coward, aren’t you boy? You wouldn’t know what to do with that blade even if you were strong enough to use it.” He gives his friend a nod.

Even as the spear tip gleams, even as the Hafthans sneer at me, I can’t bring myself to do anything. It’s just like when Father rushed into the dark, or when those two Hafthan found me earlier. I can’t do anything. I’m frozen stiff. You’re a fucking coward.

I close my eyes. I’m sorry mother. You were right. I take in what could be my final breath.

“Gentlemen, I will only ask this of you but a single time. Please do away with your weapons. I do not wish to come to blows with you.”

My eyes snap open. There’s a man standing beside me, his long grey cloak flapping in the breeze.

“Mr. Oliver?” I ask, tilting my head.

The old man looks down at me and smiles. “Ah, you remembered my name. Good on you.” Mr. Oliver looks about with a frown. “It seems I arrived a little too late to be of much help, but don’t worry dear boy. You’re safe now.”

But I don’t feel any safer. I’ve seen Mr. Oliver when he comes into town to buy supplies. He can barely lift a bag of potatoes. Even little Kyna can do that.

The two Hafthans share a worried glance. Then their faces grow darker, harsher, their features sharpening. Their hands tremble and what looks like little blades start coming out of their fingers.

“Oh dear,” Mr. Oliver says. “I’ve read about this. Blood of the Great Wolf, is it? But you two should know.” The air around us starts to sizzle and simmer like the air over an open forge. “That won’t be enough to kill me.”

The tall Hafthan jabs forward with his spear, but his arms suddenly twist together, his skin and bones ripping and cracking.

“Bastard!” the other Hafthan bellows, but he remains still, face twitching with doubt.

My feet move without me telling them to.

I raise the sword with all my strength and plunge the tip into the Hafthan’s belly. His axe drops and he cries out, griping my shoulders. Pushing in, blood washes over my hands and drips into the dirt below. Someone starts yelling, the sound ringing my ears. It’s not until the Hafthan’s fist collides with my cheek that I realize that person was me.

I grab onto him for a moment but my knees give way and I fall to the ground, head pounding, my eyes full of blinding white light. Blinking up, I see the Hafthan reach down and pull the sword free of his stomach. Despite how hard I pushed, it didn’t pierce very deep. Once the blade clatters to the ground, he lunges at me, one hand falling to the belt of knives at his hip.

His eyes go wide when I drive the knife into his throat.

He stumbles back, doing his best to stop the flow. As I rise to my feet, he reaches down, but the knife he’s looking for isn’t there. Something about the shock on his face causes my lips to twitch into a smile.

Liam was right. I can be quick when I want to be.

The sound that escapes me as I plunge the knife into his chest burns my throat. He falls back, but I stay on him, blade falling up and down. Even when his back hits the ground, I keep at it. I sit on his stomach and drive the blade into him, blood splattering my face.

“I’m not a coward!” His chest is nothing but churned meat now. “I’m not!”

The knife slips from my shaking hands. I try and pick it up by my hands are too slick with blood. It simply clatters away. As I reach to his waist for another knife, a hand grips my wrist.

“Luther!” Mr. Oliver stares into me. “Stop. He’s dead. Very, very dead.”

I turn my head and find the Hafthan’s face is like it was before the sudden change. His mouth is hanging open, specks of red on his lips. Blank eyes stare up at the sky, dead just like Mr. Hagen’s.

“Up now, yes just like that.” Mr. Oliver helps me to my feet. “Are you hurt? So much blood…”

“I’m fine,” I say looking around. “Where is the other one.”

Mr. Oliver tries to step to the side and block my view, but it’s too late. The other Hafthan is in a twisted puddle on the ground. It’s like his whole body is tied into a great knot of meat and bone. I’m not even sure what parts of him I’m looking at.

“How did you do—”

“Not now, my boy. Not now.” Mr. Oliver pants and wipes a thick bead of sweat from his brow. “Where is your brother? Do any of the guard still hold the village?”

Liam. He must have joined the handful of other guards near the beach when the attack started. I want to believe he’s alive, but what can a small few of the Count’s men hope to do against these monsters?

“I don’t think so.” Tears try and come again but I beat them back. “And I can’t find my father.”

Mr. Oliver clicks his tongue and looks over me. “We should wait until morning. Then we can search for them together. Safer for us both that way.”

I want to protest, but my body slumps and my eyes droop. “Do you promise to help me look for them?”

“Of course. It should only be a few hours until sunrise. We can rest at my cabin until then.” He pulls a glass vial from a bag at his waist. “But first…” He lowers it to the Hafthan’s oozing chest and presses on the wound. After collecting some of his blood, he tucks the vial back into his bag and smiles. “We should be off then. This way.”

I follow Mr. Oliver into the forest, glancing back just as we’re about to disappear into the trees. My stomach twists. Shouldn’t I go back and look for them? They could be hurt. They could need my help. No. My arms and legs are too heavy. I can’t help anyone like this.

“Please be safe,” I whisper as my feet carry me into the darkness.