"Do you love mom?" Cassius asked.

In the darkness, Howlen saw his son pull his coat tight and hold his woolen cap as the icy wind whipped up, bringing winter to the provincial northern island of Vencia. Cassius's bare hand flinched when he touched his hat; wet from the light, misty rain. He had forgotten his gloves.

"What?" Howlen's gruff voice was as gentle as he could manage for his son. They had been walking in silence for some time now and the question came unexpectedly.

"Well, I just mean you guys fight a lot."

"Hmm." Howlen raised his light to see his son, all of thirteen, and on his first night's watch, yet still a questioning child. He removed his gloves and slapped them against Cassius's chest. "Do you know what love is, boy?"

"Of course," Cassius began with all the confidence of youth, "it's like, you like things. More." Confidence fading. The wind died down. Cassius took the damp gloves from his father and put them on. He held his hands out to see his fingers not quite reach the tips of the gloves.

Howlen gave a slight chuckle. He tucked his two hollow tin poles under his arm and slipped his hands into his pockets. "Yeah it all seems simple until you start talking. Think about it like this. Love means you want something to do well, to prosper. You want what's best for the person more than you want what's best for you."

The father and son continued to follow their black and white guard dog, Sunday, down the path along the perimeter of their small pasture. Each year as winter blew in, the coyotes would start pressing into the more civilized area outside the city walls in search of an easy meal. Howlen had walked this path many times as the seasons changed but hoped to pass this chore on to Cassius.

"There's got to be more to it than that, dad."

"Yeah a lot of people try to add more, but that just overcomplicates it. Now, there's more to being with someone than just loving them. You have to be nice and show respect. But none of that is love. Love is important but so are all the other things."

"Why do you fight then?"

"Some things need fought about." Howlen said it too quickly and didn't like the answer as soon as it came out. He waited, hoping for another question so he could redeem himself, but none came.

Father and son continued. Every part of Howlen, from the blood pulsing in his forearms to the nail on his smallest toe tensed and curled as if they knew exactly what to say; but there were no words.

"Am I gonna tend the herd all my life?" It wasn't the question he'd hoped for, but Howlen turned it over nonetheless, searching for the best answer.

"What else would you do?" That probably wasn't right either.

"I heard the druids take kids in! I could learn their ways. They heal people, you know. Caitlyn says-"

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"They use children. I agree they do some good but I don't know if that would be the safest place for you."

"Aww safe? We're out here looking for coyotes. Sunday won't do much good and what if we see a pack right now?"

"Those are dangers of this world. The druids deal with - with the Old Gods." Howlen had been trying to reconcile the concept of love he had just described with the reality of his actions over the years, and so he had missed the yearning in his son. It was all so clear a moment too late.

Cassius hung his head.

"I'm not saying you can never learn from them, but not every path is going to be good for you. For now, let's keep the herd alive. Let the people have more than bread and potatoes this winter." The matter was closed; a door slammed too hard for the fragile spirit of the boy.

"How's this Caitlyn?" Howlen tried to realign the conversation to the original course.

Sunday stopped, gave a growl, then bolted into the trees. Cassius, still silent, took a step to follow but was stopped by Howlen's firm grip. "Wait, grab the poles and hit them together. We'll drive them off easy enough." The words came out a little too stern.

Cassius did as he was told. Clang, clang. Clang, clang, clang. Then faster again.

Less than a minute, but Howlen remembered the feeling of his first watch. He knew to Cassius it must have felt five. Maybe an hour.

But as would happen every time, Howlen knew, Sunday came bounding back. "The beasts just look for easy meals. We scare them off and they go eat rabbits or birds. They're cowards, though. Scavengers, so long as they aren't too desperate."

Cassius didn't say much for the rest of the trip. Of course not, Howlen told himself I crushed his dream before he could say it, made him feel dumb. The boy's never going to know what I am trying to do.

The sunrise was painting the clouds purple and orange as the two neared their house, coming to the end of the routine patrol around the pasture. Sunday once again let out a growl, this time more fierce, even frightened, then he bolted toward the house.

Cassius, still low, reached for the pipes but was stopped by the firm grip of Howlen. It was too firm, Howlen knew; an unintended reminder for Cassius how insignifican he was when it came to real matters. Cassius looked up at him. For an instant Howlen was frozen with fear.

Sunday was violently barking from the house.

"Run, boy!" Howlen took off toward his home where his wife had been sleeping. Cassius followed the orders and was right on his father's heels. They had raced many times through the fields, and Cassius had easily beaten his father every time. Now though, he could hardly keep up. Howlen's coat blew open and he pulled his cap from his head to keep from losing it completely as he ran. It was cold but he could not feel it.

The path curved around a cluster of trees and their small plank house came into view. Sunday's barking stopped.

The two burst into the house, Howlen first then Cassius, ready for the unknown.

"Jennifer! Jennifer!"

"Mom!"

There were no signs of struggle in the house. They had followed Sunday's distinct tracks in the wet mud up to their inexplicably open door, then his prints smeared on the rough wood floor leading down the hall and into Howlen and Jennifer's bedroom. Then nothing.

The two searched the side tool and feed shacks and the surrounding area. There was the almost deafening bleating from the sheep, but a thorough search of their large barn revealed no trace of Jennifer or Sunday.

Again they searched.

Nothing.

"We have to go to the Consul." Howlen steeled himself from his rising panic.