When David, Nathan, and their father returned home from the bishop’s land and another successful hunt, it was Andrew who waited for them in the yard, not one of the footmen.

“Greg is gone,” he said.

David frowned. “What do you mean, Greg is gone? He could barely walk when we left.”

“He took a cab to the post office and boarded a coach to Eoforwic. Paid the full fare, but we don’t know if he reached the city.”

“I don’t understand,” Bram said.

But they did. They did understand. They just didn’t want it to be true.

Tomorrow was full moon.

Their father was already sprinting up the stairs, while Nathan moved on into the stables, taking the saddle off the horse that had carried him home and preparing a new one. David didn’t need to see to know that it would be Bairn, their father’s best stallion.

Greg had a headstart of several days, but Nathan was the fastest of them, both on foot and horseback. And he would not hesitate to ride a good horse to death if it meant catching up with their youngest brother.

Andrew and David stared at each other. This was their fault: If Andrew hadn’t broken his bloody arm, less than two days before the big hunt, they could have found somebody else. And he, David, could have talked their father out of letting Greg join, but hadn’t, despite his misgivings.

“Mum is upstairs,” Andrew said.

David swallowed hard, but he went.

“You promised!” Imani greeted him, crying. “You promised to keep him safe!”

“And I will, Mum,” David said, because he refused to acknowledge that it might be too late, that it probably was too late, that his little brother might be gone. That a monster might have taken his place. “Nathan is getting fresh horses ready.”

“It’s full moon,” his father said quietly. “You can’t go after him tonight.”

“It’ll take us days to catch up with him,” David replied. “We shouldn’t waste any more time. Besides, we can’t be sure – we checked him over a dozen times.”

He knew it was a stupid hope, and it was crushed before they could get into an argument about it: Andrew was leading Dr. ibn Sina upstairs, Nathan on their heels. David could barely hear what the doctor had to say over the rushing in his ears. He could only watch on as ibn Sina shattered what was left of his mother’s hope and composure.

They had all known that something like this might happen to one of them. It was a topic that sometimes crept up when a sufficient amount of beer had flowed. Every full moon, month after month, some hunters went out to kill monsters and came back monsters themselves.

And some of those who were hunted as monsters were ordinary people twenty-eight nights out of twenty-nine.

David clung to that thought – something he usually tried very hard to forget – as he watched his father hug his mother. They were both crying now, and Andrew and Nathan, too. David had no tears, though, just anger. Because this was wrong. It shouldn’t have been Greg, who had so many other talents, who hated sleeping outdoors and couldn’t track to save his life. Who hated conflict and killing.

It had been just a matter of time for Greg to get over his hero-worship for “the Feleke Four”, for him to realize that there were so many other things he could be besides a werewolf hunter. Better things. Like Andrew, who was on his way out, too, into a different life.

David just stood there, waiting, until his father looked at him, and nodded.

“Bring him back,” his mother called after him and Nathan, as they took the stairs two steps at a time, down into the courtyard where fresh horses were waiting. Their iron horseshoes kicked sparks out of the cobblestones as they sped out of the city.

People jumped out of the way and cursed at them, whereas the guards at the gates just yelled: “Good hunting!”

Greg had taken the mail coach, so that was the route they followed. He had paid the full fare to Eoforwic, but couldn’t have reached the city yet.

He would probably try to avoid large settlements – the route to Eoforwic ran close to the Savre and the river’s Rot-infested shores. That was where they would start their search.

“Do we ask around the inns?” Nathan asked when they allowed the horses to walk for a few miles instead of run. “Someone might have seen him. But if two werewolf hunters ask after him, well, you know...”

“We’ll ask,” David said. “If we ask the questions in the right way, nobody will draw the wrong conclusion.”

“Should have brought Andrew,” Nathan said.

“He’d only slow us down.”

Andrew was good at talking to people, but with his broken arm, there was no way he would be able to keep up.

Not even without the broken arm. Andrew liked animals too much to drive his horse the way they needed to.

“What do we do if he’s – you know – gone?” Nathan asked when they were sitting side by side on the forest floor. They both knew they needed to sleep, and that there was no way they would.

David shrugged. “No point of putting that pain on them, is there?”

No point in forcing their parents to speak a death sentence over their own son.

“Right,” Nathan muttered, rubbing warmth into his hands. “He’s out there, somewhere,” he said quietly. “Must have transformed about an hour ago.”

They both looked up at the moon, full and round above them.

“Think he’ll be all right?” Nathan added.

“Tonight? Yes,” David said. “Tomorrow? That’ll depend on how far he managed to go. It’s unlikely, even if – if things go badly, that other hunters will be close, he’s too smart for that. If he doesn’t garner himself a bounty, we should be able to catch up with him before anyone else does. And if we can’t, that will be a good sign.”

Between the two of them, they could track any mad werewolf down before new moon. A sane one was another matter. Greg was smart, and he knew how hunters worked, even if he had never done the work himself.

They gave up on sleep an hour before the moon set, and spurred the horses on in an ambling gait, faster than a walk, slower than a canter, and smooth enough that David felt himself fighting sleep once the sun was up.

“Do we switch horses?” Nathan asked the next time an inn came up.

“Yes,” David said a little hesitatingly. “And let’s ask around, too.”

Nobody remembered Greg, which confirmed David’s expectation that their brother had travelled further north into the badlands. Outside of Deva, their dark skin should be noticeable enough that people would remember Greg.

They paid a man to have Bairn and David’s gelding returned to Deva. The farmer had never heard of the Baron of Courtenay, but he did know about the Feleke Four and was eager to help. The family’s reputation got them better horses, too, than they would have otherwise been sold.

When night fell, they had no choice but to get a room in one of the coaching inns. They were both flagging after the sleepless night, and they hadn’t remembered to bring protection against the Rot, either. Plus, they were close to a sidearm of the Savre now. It was well possible that Greg was somewhere nearby, and they didn’t want to accidentally shoot him. They had no idea what his werewolf form would look like.

Hot food was welcome, too. All they had brought were the leftover provisions from their last hunt.

“Third night of full moon,” Nathan said. When David didn’t react to that statement of the obvious, he added: “Why do you think he ran?”

“Had to, didn’t he?” David sighed. “Couldn’t stay in Deva. Question is, why he didn’t say anything.”

Except to ibn Sina, of all people.

The answer to that question was pretty damn obvious, of course. They were werewolf hunters. Greg was a werewolf now.

“He didn’t really think we’d come after him with silver, did he?”

David just stared gloomily at the ceiling.

“Stupid,” Nathan muttered. “And even more stupid, if he thinks we’ll just abandon him.”

David closed his eyes.

“What if he doesn’t want to go back with us?”

“We’ll burn that bridge when we get there,” David replied. “Let’s find him, first.”

That turned out to be more tricky than expected. Three days later, they found a little island in the middle of a creek, where somebody had lit a fire, and plenty of werewolf tracks around. They wasted another day following them, only to realize they all returned to the little creek. People at the next inn remembered a young black man who had survived a coaching accident and made a coin walk across the back of his hand.

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He’d journeyed onwards, to Eoforwic.

“Two days,” Nathan groused. “He’s two bloody days ahead of us.”

“It used to be five,” David pointed out, but that didn’t make either of them happier.

They followed the road the coach took all the way to Eoforwic but didn’t find another trace of him. Greg probably hadn’t gotten off the coach again at all, and the city guards in Eoforwic didn’t search mail coaches. They asked around the post office, just in case, but had no luck.

“We get all sorts of fellows, with the railway and whatnot,” the man selling the tickets said. “White, brown, yellow. Must’ve seen a dozen guys as dark as you in the past month alone. Didn’t look so closely, it’s a free city, here. I think I had someone buy a ticket to Mannin. Could have been a couple of days ago, might have been your guy, maybe.”

David cursed inwardly. Nathan did so loudly.

“A dozen guys in a month, but he can’t remember who he’s seen in the last three days?”

“Let’s consider it good news,” David sighed. “He’s not standing out.”

“We could offer the guy some money, maybe that’ll improve his memory,” Nathan suggested.

David considered the idea but then shook his head. “I think we don’t need to,” he said. “Let’s go get some food.”

Nathan stared at him in surprise. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“Think about it,” David said, and started moving. “Why would Greg come to Eoforwic of all places?”

“You think he really bought a ticket to Mannin?” Nathan asked.

“That would make sense, wouldn’t it?” David said. He had spotted a place to eat just across from the post yard, no doubt catering to drivers and passengers alike. When he asked around, the best they got was a “might have seen someone yesterday.”

And a decent meal.

“Mannin sounds reasonable,” Nathan picked the conversation up again in a defeated tone, once their plates were nearly empty. “If he really thinks we’d – kill him.”

Mannin was the utmost border of their territory. The Church’s arm didn’t reach further north, so it was extremely rare that someone in the area put up a bounty that would be worth their travel time. David had only seen the city twice, answering calls for help from local hunters both times.

Yes, it was a very good place for a werewolf to get away. The city of Mannin itself was part of Loegrion, and thus in theory part of the Empire of Valoir, but the Roi Solei had no power there. And once one made it past Mannin, civilization pretty much ended.

George Louis of Mannin, from the house of Stuard, ruled up there, David remembered with a shudder, as far as anyone could rule the wilderness. The Roi Solei had appointed him a duke a few years ago, no doubt in the hopes of strengthening the Empire’s hold on the coal-rich area. Now, though, George Louis himself was after the crown of Loegrion, if rumours could be believed.

David could only hope that they wouldn’t have to deal with him.

He nodded slowly. “Mannin sounds reasonable. But that guy back there said something else, too – they get all sorts of people here, because of the railway. And I bet nobody asks a navvy too closely where he comes from, right? Wasn’t there a rumour that they’re using mostly convicts? In any case, I doubt George Louis can be as picky as he usually is with his help.”

Nathan looked doubtful. “You’re kidding, right? Our Greg, a navvy? He starts complaining about his tender backside after half a day in the saddle; two nights in the forest, and he’ll nearly die from a common cold!”

“He’s not that bad,” David said. “Or rather, yes, he used to be that bad. But he stayed at that little camp at the river for at least a few nights around full moon, and was fine afterwards.”

“But – yeah, okay,” Nathan said. “But still. He can’t really work as a navvy, can he? Even if he remains saner than even the Old Ben, he’d still have to leave the camp at least for one night each month. I’m pretty sure that’d be noticed, right?”

Old Ben had been one of the very few “sane” werewolves they had ever come across, one of those they always left alive. He’d even been able to work, albeit as a rat-catcher. Every full moon, he’d locked himself up inside his tiny hut. He’d been a little strange in the head, sure, but not so strange that people thought “werewolf” when they met him right away.

David looked around quickly to make sure no one was listening. Old Ben had died of old age years ago, but they wouldn’t, if the Church got wind that the four of them left werewolves alive, if they felt sure they posed no danger.

Nobody was paying them any attention, though, and David forced himself to relax a little.

“I don’t know how well the average group of navvies is organized,” he said. “And anyway – at least one group of them will go deep into the forest. If you were a werewolf who’s trying to get away, don’t you think that would sound appealing?”

Nathan frowned thoughtfully. “I guess,” he finally said. “Or he came to Eoforwic to get to somewhere else – Mannin, or anywhere up the mountains.” Nathan paused. “Or maybe he’s hanging around. The Savre is right out there.”

“You think a werewolf can survive the Rot?” David asked.

“If they can’t, at least for a while, how do they even still exist?” Nathan gave back.

David shrugged. “They always seem to find the areas which are least affected,” he pointed out. “Though you’re right, I guess, they probably can cross Rot-areas easier than we can.”

Nathan stared down at his plate. “It’s weird,” he muttered. “To think of Greg as one of them.”

David nodded quietly. He was trying very hard not to think of Greg as a werewolf, of all the consequences that came with that thought. Because yes, some werewolves were basically normal people twenty-eight days out of twenty-nine. But most of them were not. Most of them became either fully-fledged monsters within the first few months of their new lives or at the very least degenerated to something just barely smarter than a shepherd’s dog.

“What do we do next?” Nathan interrupted him.

“We check with the local magistrate for bounties,” David said. “Just in case. And then we’ll have a closer look at the “Lackland Railway Company.” Remember how many recruiters they had running around Deva recently?”

Nathan nodded.

“Oh,” David said. “But first of all – first of all, we need to send a letter home.”

So they crossed the street again, to join the long queue inside the post office. People all around them stared, and David wasn’t sure if it was the crossbows on their backs that clearly marked them as werewolf-hunters or the fact that they were the only two black men in the crowd.

Probably both.

Once they had bought a letter and ink, it took them what felt like an hour to pin down:

“Dear mother, father, and Andrew,

We’ve reached Eoforwic. Greg has been here for certain, but he’s still at least a couple of days ahead of us, and we don’t know where he went after he got off the coach. We’ll ask around the area and have a look around the new railway company.

We’ll let you know as soon as we find out anything more.

For what it’s worth, it seems like he was fine when he reached the city.

We’ll find him.

Love, David and Nathan.”

They posted the letter and asked for directions to the magistrate.

“If you cut right through the Old Town, you’ll get there much faster than if you follow the main road,” the lady selling the stamps assured them.

Following her advice turned out to be a mistake. They got turned around somewhere within the labyrinth of narrow alleys, often little more than gaps between the crooked buildings.

David cursed. “Why is it,” he wondered aloud, “that we can find our way blind through miles and miles of forest, but get lost in a city quarter less than a hundred yards across?”

“Should have brought Andrew,” Nathan shrugged. “He’s good at cities.”

They clearly weren’t. The magistrate had closed by the time they made it there.

“Damn it,” Nathan muttered, and let a fist fall against the wooden gates, even though the sign clearly stated that they should have been there half an hour ago.

“Great,” David agreed. “So much for this day. Let’s find a hotel.”

“We could go straight into the forest,” Nathan disagreed. “Get something done. Plus, I’m sick of this stinking ashtray of a city already.”

David considered the idea. He wasn’t a fan of Eoforwic either, but mostly he was tired.

But before he could push his weary mind towards making a decision, the door behind them opened. A man in a very sombre dark grey robe glared at them, before doing a double-take.

“You’re werewolf hunters?” he asked, and when they nodded, added: “Looking for work? Come right this way.”

So they followed him into the mostly dark and eerily quiet entrance hall of the huge building. Greg probably would have had plenty to say about the display of Imperial power and wealth inside. David had no idea whether the art and architecture were any good, and he didn’t care either way, but just for once, he missed Greg’s inevitable analysis.

“It’s really lucky you showed up,” the clerk informed them. “We’ve had a flood of bounties coming in recently. The railway company wants the area cleared, they’ll pay well for your trouble, too.”

He reached a heavy counter and pushed back the chair behind it. “Anyway, how many do you want to take?”

“Just give us the lot,” David said.

The clerk looked at them in surprise. “All of them?” he repeated. “Are you sure? Are there more of you?”

“Just us,” David said.

“You’re new at this?”

“You ever heard of Baron Bram Feleke or the Feleke Four?” David replied. “We’re half of them.”

“My apologies, my lord,” the clerk promptly said, bowing his head. “Still, I’ve got over two dozen bounties here. Are you sure you don’t want to have a look first?”

“The area must be rife with werewolves,” David said, surprised.

“Yes, well, I’m afraid we’ve been a little lenient on the matter in the past years,” the clerk admitted. “There was very little interest in this – infestation – until they started attacking railway crews.”

“We’ll see what we can do about this,” David promised.

“We could have just taken the newest ones,” Nathan muttered, as soon as they were back outside. “Just ask if they had any new ones come in in the last few days, I mean.”

David didn’t reply. It was rather unlikely that Greg had already attracted a bounty in this area. He had only arrived the day before yesterday, or maybe a day earlier. But they needed to be sure. And also... But he was being unreasonable...

“Maybe we’ll need to make a name for ourselves here,” David said slowly. “That way, if we let a couple of sane ones walk, people’ll be less likely to get suspicious.”

But he was being stupid. They couldn’t save them all. They’d be lucky enough if they could save Greg.

Stupid and unreasonable. And still, there was this feeling that he needed to do something, something to clean his soul or his conscience of all the werewolves he had killed, happily not knowing whether they deserved it or not.

He needed to focus, though. Focus on Greg, because saving just one werewolf would be difficult enough.

Nathan looked at him doubtfully.

“Let’s find a hotel,” David sighed. “Then we can look at this lot.” He waved the stack of wanted-posters in his hands. “And tomorrow we’ll see about the railway.”

They picked the first hotel they came across – sticking to the main road this time, so they wouldn’t get lost again. Greg would have approved of “the Mills,” David thought.

“Crazy, isn’t it?” Nathan asked when they inspected the generous room, “how much you can miss someone you hardly ever spend time with? Or is that just me?”

“No,” David said softly. “It’s not just you.”

Nathan was right, of course. If Greg hadn’t gotten bitten, he likely would have stayed at Deva, while David and Nathan would have gone out hunting again, only dropping in around new moon, or perhaps to pick up or drop off Bram.

Andrew, David wasn’t sure about. His arm would take time getting better, and anyway, Andrew had already decided that he wanted to go to university in summer, had only meant to save up some more money, so he wouldn’t have to ask for any for a while.

“Do we have any plans for what we’ll do if we do find him?” Nathan asked. “If he’s not – too far gone, I mean.”

“We’ll try to talk to him,” David said. “If he’s still passing as human, well, I reckon there’s a good chance he won’t be – too wolfish, even if it takes us a few months to find him. I’d say we take him to Courtenay, if at all possible. To hide him there.”

“We’ll have to drag him halfway across the heartlands,” Nathan said. “And if anyone figures out what we’re doing...”

“If anyone finds out what we’re doing, then it was us and us alone,” David said sharply.

“Of course,” Nathan said, sounding a little annoyed. “They’ll still kill him. Us, too. I just figured – we’re already at the very border of the heartlands. Wouldn’t it be smarter, since we’ve already picked up all these bounties, if we hunt down some of the mad ones, collect the gold, and buy a place somewhere around here?”

“That could work,” David said slowly. “If we do find him somewhere around here.”

He threw the warrants onto the table and leafed through them. Most of them were way too old to be about Greg, just as expected.

“This one, maybe,” Nathan said, scanning the paper. “It was only put up this morning. No description of the human form, werewolf killed a woman. Doesn’t say how long ago that happened, though.”

“Where?” David asked.

“Place called Lacing,” Nathan said. “Think we should check it out?”

“Probably,” David said. “We’ll get up early tomorrow, ride over to the company headquarters, see if Greg showed up there. Then we’ll decide.”