Kaye woke in the still darkness of the tent. No birds sang, and even the coals in the banked fire were nearly silent. Her mother snored softly, and Kindra's breath was regular. A chill breeze seeped through the cracks around the doorflap.

It wasn't yet time to make her way up the path to the cliff, but something tugged at Kaye, almost as if it was part of her soul-bond. She listened for Kindra again, but her sister's breathing remained regular, and dreams were the one thing they'd never been able to share.

The tug didn't feel like their soul-bond, if she was honest. It felt like Aleda's energy, the energy of the world around them, pulling her to the west—to the mountains...past the mountains—pulling at Kaye's soul incessantly, the way Kindra usually did.

Kaye had started to feel it during Kindra's blood-bond with the tribe, the first severing of their twin-bond. It had been ever-present since then, and it was becoming harder to ignore the pull that was almost as strong as the bond she shared with her sister. With an uncharacteristic restlessness, Kaye threw on the first cloak she found at the door and stepped outside, letting in as little cold as possible.

The first frost of the season spread like tiny diamonds across each blade of grass and orange leaf that shimmered in the light of the waxing quarter moon. Kaye closed her eyes and lifted her face to the brightness—the moon always calmed her soul. It was the Mother, Aleda, looking down on Her children and providing light even on the longest nights.

The birds were silent as Kaye wove through the tents to the edge of the forest. She felt the energy of someone behind her before she heard the footsteps crunch on the frost. It was an energy she knew well, so she stopped and waited for Gar to catch up.

"Little early to be heading up to the cliff," he said.

"Couldn't sleep." Kaye smiled softly and linked her arm through his. "Walk with me?"

"Of course." He squeezed her hand. "The village is quiet. They don't need a guard right now."

They walked in companionable silence up the path through the pines. The cliff was cleared of trees and the moon shone on the valley below them, washing everything in a silver-blue glow. Only a few tents in Fie Eoin were awake with the tell-tale sign of smoke drifting from the opening on top. Everything else was still and silent.

Kaye stepped right to the edge, staring at the mountains on the other side of the valley, relishing the feel of the wind pulling at her long hair, catching the edges of her wings under the heavy cloak.

Gar stood back a step from the ledge. "Why can't you sleep?"

Kaye stared into the distance a moment longer, than turned, shoulders sinking. "Too many emotions."

"Your own?"

She smiled softly. "Not all of them. The sense of failure...the self-loathing...the disappointment...those are only half mine."

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Gar's eyebrows pulled together in concern, but Kaye knew he wouldn't interrupt. This was how their friendship began—Kaye telling Gar stories while she treated his wounds. Telling him village gossip to keep his mind from his pain. And eventually, breaking down and revealing her own pain. He'd listened, and never once told her she was selfish or stupid, and never once interrupted. If she tried to tell Kindra what was wrong, Kindra would try to fix it. That was fine, when it was a problem that could be fixed, but this wasn't. Gar would listen, and let Kaye talk herself out. He became her confidant for all the things she couldn't tell her sister.

"The anger is all Kindra, though," Kaye continued. "You should keep your brother away from her for a while—she's likely to attack at the smallest provocation."

Gar stood for a moment, silent as a boulder, taking her words in. "Noted," He finally said. Then, "why do you feel like a failure?"

She patted his arm and looked west to where the new feeling tugged on her bond. "The same reason as always. I should have been confirmed already. Somehow, I've failed."

"You haven't failed." Gar squeezed her hand again.

She turned her head towards him just a bit, without breaking her gaze on the shadow across the valley. "There's no other reason I wouldn't be confirmed by now."

Gar didn't reply, but he squeezed her hand again, absentmindedly. When Kaye finally turned to look at him, he was frowning, deep in his own thoughts. Thoughts he'd shared with her before.

She pulled her hand away. "Not this again."

"The Conals..."

"Are not threatened by the Odions." She held out her arms. "A not-yet priestess and a nameless warrior."

"And who has the power to confirm and name you? Only Conals, who would then become second to the Odions again."

Kaye's shoulders sank. "Gar."

"It's true. The warriors are already upset that Oak didn't name Kindra."

"You think there will be trouble?"

Gar crossed his arms. "Oak overstepped his bounds when he refused to name her."

"If Kindra doesn't have a name what else could he do?"

"If she does have a name and he withheld it, what else can we do? A war is coming, and it will be up to him if it's between us and him, or us and the Obsidians."

Kaye had never heard him speak in such a way. A shiver ran across her wings despite the warm cloak. "You're so eager to return to battle, then? You'd fight against your own chief?"

Gar uncrossed his arms and his frown softened as he looked at her. "I'm not eager for war, no. But if he has betrayed the tribe—and it seems more and more each day that he has—he cannot continue as chief. He must step down or face his own warriors turning on him."

She hugged her arms to her chest. "And Kindra would become chief."

"Or Petoskey, if we cannot see her name."

Kaye stared at the tents as more smoke began to rise. The birds finally woke as the cliff lightened in a grey-peach haze. The valley below was still dark, but the priestesses would be meeting on the cliff soon to sing up the sun.

Kaye sighed again. "She has no name. The High Priestess would have seen it, even if Oak did not."

"Unless..."

"Stop." Kaye glared at him, and his shoulders sank with the reprimand. "The High Priestess is Aleda's chosen voice on earth. She wouldn't hold back a name if she saw one. Eoin said he would teach Kindra to fly, so when she learns, she'll earn her name."

"She has no wings."

Kaye's own wings burned with despair at the thought. "I know."

"You think it's a true vision?"

"Yes." Kaye didn't hesitate. "I know it was. Much like yours."

Gar looked away, face flushing. "Mine makes no sense, and hasn't come true in four summers."

Kaye linked her arm through his again. "And who's to say it will for many summers yet? A vision that makes no sense right now is truer than the usual blather most inductees recite."

He shrugged. "I'd go with the fact that we'll overcome the Obsidians eventually, to me killing a goddess and becoming chief."

She laid her head on his shoulder. "If you do become chief, I hope I'm a confirmed priestess by then. We would usher in an age of peace together."

The rumble of a low chuckle made its way into his shoulder. "I hope so, too."