They stopped only to relieve themselves in the groves, drink from the streams, eat and sleep. Yeen was a man of few words. Pastel had the impression that the mercenary only opened his mouth to mock him or tell him to walk faster. The sun was beginning to drop from the sky when they finally reached the river.

  "Wow!" murmured Pastel, who had never seen a river so imposing. They had just emerged from the forest and were looking at a wide river that split into three narrower, but tumultuous streams.

  "This is the only place we can cross. Over there it's too wide, and over there the current's too strong." The gnoll grumbled without looking at Pastel.

  "There used to be a bac, but not anymore. It's too dangerous for the boatmen."

  Pastel looked at the place where the river parted. People probably long before them had placed large stones in the water to ease the crossing. He watched Yeen walk down to the shore. The earth slipped under his feet and he fell on his hands, cursing. Pastel smiled with all his teeth

  Yeen stood up and glared at Pastel. "If you want to make fun of me, no problem, but I'll leave you on this shore and go on my way."

  " Huh? What no! I'm sorry." Pastel ran to the shore and slipped back into the muddy earth. "argh!"

  Yeen gave him a victorious glance as he pretended to look into the water.

  "Come on. Have you ever hunted fish?"

  "Hunted yes, but not the fish."

  "What. How." "Huh? What what how?"

  Yeen shook his head, impatient before articulating exaggeratedly, "Hunted what and how? spear, trap, bow?"

  "Oh! Big venison, small plains fauna. Mostly bow and spear."

  "Spear, huh? Show me." "You don't believe me? I don't look like a hunter, do I?" Pastel joked.

  "'Kay." said Yeen, pulling a knife and spear point from his bag He said: "Find me a stick and show me." He tossed the knife to Pastel, who barely caught it. "We'll go further that way, we'll be more discreet, in case others come."

  They spent the next half-hour looking for suitable branches, then pruning them into a narrow but sturdy stick where they tied the tip with a beast-skin lace.

  "Throw it at that tree." Yeen said, pointing to a young birch with his own spear.

  Without saying a word, Pastel moved into position, spreading his legs, adjusting his grip, then took a few steps and propelled the spear with a sweeping gesture that mobilized his whole body. The weapon whistled through the air and fell just short of the tree.

  Yeen, struggling to hide his surprise, simply said "hummf." As if to say "missed."

  "Ahh, come on, I just carved this spear in a few minutes from a twisted branch. I almost got it."

  "It's not bad." The gnoll finally added with an appreciative if slightly condescending pout.

  "So, are you going to show me how to catch these fish, or do you want me to spend the evening showing you what I can do with a stick?"

  "Oh, I know just what you can do with a stick," Yeen said with a wink. Pastel clicked his tongue in frustration, but couldn't contain a smile. "Well done." he finally murmured, blushing

  "Don't talk about sticks if you don't want me to make dirty jokes. Let's go."

  Yeen attached a wire to each spear and showed Pastel the intricacies of spear fishing. Finally he began to remove his clothes, revealing once again his large, muscular body and the mottled fur that emphasized the impressive musculature on his back. "Are you coming?"

  "Yes, yes..." Pastel removed his clothes, blushing, before stepping into the river, naked too." Then the trick is to watch for movement through the reflections and stay still and only move at the last moment... like this."

  Yeen, spear in hand, legs firmly planted in the river bed, was scanning the surface of the water. Pastel was focused, too, on the water, but couldn't help glancing at the gnoll's body.

  "I can't believe I slept with that beast..." thought Pastel as a warmth spread through his body. He then saw Yeen, without a word, very slowly raise the spear above his head, remaining completely motionless for a few seconds before abruptly thrusting the weapon into the water. It pierced the waves without splashing, disappearing beneath the water. Suddenly, the water began to swirl and spray in all directions, splashing Pastel as a large fish struggled to escape. Yeen pulled on the string to retrieve the fish, as the water turned red.

  "On the first try!" gloated Yeen through sharp teeth. It was the first time Pastel had seen his dark eyes shine. His joy was infectious

  They spent the rest of the late afternoon fishing, throwing spear after spear. Yeen seemed determined to prove his superiority as a hunter, throwing his weapon ever harder and further, while Pastel rediscovered the pleasure of the hunt, between meditative waiting and the brutal expenditure of energy.

  Back on the riverbank, they grabbed their clothes and, with fresh fish on their backs, crossed the river, climbing up to the divide into three smaller streams and leaping across the stones, leaning on their spears for balance. Pastel was suddenly more nervous. His paw slipped and he fell to his knees in the middle of the last of the three streams. The pain hit him like a bolt of lightning. He was no longer in a light mood.

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  In a sudden flash, shards of light came back to him. The memory of burning water in his lungs and cold bodies washed ashore. Yeen turned and said, without understanding Pastel's stupor: "What's it now, are you afraid of the water, little fox? Do you still need me to carry you?"

  Pastel held back an incoming tremor in his hands as he gritted his teeth. "Moron," Pastel muttered through clenched teeth. The memory of the shipwreck had pierced him as their spears had pierced the fish. " Moron!" he spat again. The word was now hurled at someone else.

  Crouching on the rock, in the middle of the stream, he met his golden gaze in the water. He closed his eyes and saw a body in the sand, fur soiled, shoulders eternally motionless. "Okay. Let's get on with it." He said to himself, shaking himself off, as if he could get rid of the burning in his chest as easily as water in his fur.

  On the other bank, the gnoll had a mocking grin on his face and stood proudly, still naked, on the shore, his muscles and impressive crotch on full display. "He really is incapable of humility." Pastel thought, looking away as something new settled in his chest.

  On the shore he unpacked his bag and looked at the stone. Still identical to itself, it was cold in his hands. Yeen was building a fire and setting the fish on branches for grilling. Pastel looked at the stone again, concentrated.

  He had the strange impression that it wanted to tell him something. In a strange way, looking at it, despite the fact that it remained perfectly inert, he had the impression of reading very subtle intentions, the kind of which one discovers on the face of a stranger.

  "What the hell are you doing?" Said Yeen, who had moved closer.

  "Nothing," said Pastel, quickly putting the stone back in its pouch. "I was just checking to see if my stuff was wet."

  "We're going to dry everything by the fire anyway. it's just leather and a tunic, right. It's not a sugar sculpture." Brutal as ever, he spoke as if he needed to remind Pastel that the sky was up and the ground was down.

  The evening passed in silence. Tiredness caught up with them and the fire captured Pastel's attention, his gaze ever more introspective. Night slowly enveloped them. The young fox looked up. On the other side of the fire, the mercenary was watching him intently. Pastel shivered.

  "Here, the fish is ready."

  They were eating in silence when Pastel heard Yeen say suddenly: "I was 15 when I started selling my... services. My mother had died giving birth to a dead baby, I never knew my father and I had a brother and sister. I had to make a living. We wanted to go to Yaloumbalis, but they wouldn't let us pass the city walls. So we stayed in the slums that had sprung up all around. Our first customers were bandits and gangs. We'd go out and beat up other kids who were beating up other kids. I wanted to buy land for my siblings. My sister got sick and died. My brother was bought by a merchant who organized fights in an underground arena. I went to whack him, we left that town and then the royal guard caught us and we were conscripted into the army. They gave us nice tunics, a sword and sent us to fight. My brother went off in a boat with a battalion of dickheads to the Siranean delta. I think he's still there. After killing children for bandits, we started killing someone's children for even bigger and richer assholes. When I could buy my freedom, after 10 years in the lowest ranks, I left the army. Now I can choose my customers."

  Yeen had just summed up his life in a monotonous, almost bored voice, staring into the fire. Pastel had listened attentively. "And who are these, the royal guard? Were you in it for ten years?"

  Yeen gave him a contemptuous look: "Who's the royal guard? The guard of the kingdom you're in right now! They enforce the King's will throughout the Kingdom. The kingdom of the Siraneans."

  "I thought the Siraneans were further east. I haven't come across any Siraneans since I left the steppes."

  "They don't need to be there to claim that it's theirs. All they need is a bit of gold and a horde of fanatical soldiers... You're telling me you're going through territory you know nothing about?"

  Defensively, Pastel replied, "I know the beasts, the trees... the topology is very different from the steppes... I've been told that the people here speak a dialect similar to that of the steppes... that there are cities... with lots of people."

  Yeen wouldn't have looked at Pastel any differently if he'd been crazy. "What the hell are you doing here, so far from the end of the world where you come from? Do you even know where you're going? And all alone?"

  "I know there are refugees in Ternoulie... that's where I wanted to go."

  "And what for?"

  Pastel raised his voice, "What for? To... talk to my people, understand what happened, why we were pushed into this disaster, how to finally talk to the stone so it can guide us back to the steppes! All I want is to return home..."

  "... You know you're going in the wrong direction? The steppes are the other way, boy."

  "I know, damn it! But I can't go back just yet. I can't go back without my clan. And I can't go back without... without those who came to slaughter us leaving the steppes."

  "Wait, that's completely insane." Yeen massaged his temples. "You walk around like this all alone in the middle of nowhere to talk to your rock and pretend there was no exile? And you still haven't explained to me what happened after that failed ceremony. All you told me, precisely, was that the stone was useless."

  "The stone has guided us since the dawn of time!"

  "Your... priestesses have been guiding you since the dawn of time. They look at the weather and say: the crops will be good next summer, let's go that way."

  "You don't know what you're talking about. You can't know."

  " I'm waiting for it! And honestly, I've been waiting a long time for conclusive proof that these magical objects are more than just children's toys. You were telling me about it... and the way you were defending it... I expected you to be some kind of spy carrying a super-powerful sacred artifact for a nobleman, or something."

  "Sorry the stone doesn't invoke fucking lightning and eternal life. It's only the sacred heart of my people from the beginning of time, until the end of time! It's... everthing."

  Pastel gritted his teeth, saying nothing. He saw again the infinite stretches of grass, caressed by the breeze, the clouds of fireflies rattling the dawn mist. Naps in the sun. Tamo's eyes. He swallowed a piece of fish bitterly. "Forget it." He said finally.

  A few seconds of silence passed. The fire made their faces glow with a changing amber light, tracing jumping shadows in their fur.

  "I'm sorry about... your sister and brother, Yeen."

  "And I for your clan."

  A kilometer downstream,they could hear the gentle lapping of the water and the echo of the rapids. In the forest, crickets whirred deafeningly. After throwing the fish scraps into the fire, they spread out a bed of soft leaves to sleep on. Yeen, lying on his back, yawned and closed his eyes before reopening one eye to look at Pastel. He was curled up in a ball, his golden tail wrapped around him. Yeen sighed, turned onto his side and raised an arm.

  "Come." He ordered simply.

  "No thanks."

  "Come on, you stubborn thing, I can see you're cold." Then, more gently, "Come on." Pastel crawled over to Yeen with a grunt and snuggled up to the big muscular beast.

  "There."

  His warmth comforted him. Pastel felt the muscular arm encircle him and hold him close. He felt a conflicting set of emotions. The burning grief of loss, anger and bitterness at the gnoll's narrow-minded incomprehension. In spite of it all, he heard himself say: " Tighter. Hold me tighter".

  The grip tightened silently. Pastel closed his eyes with a sigh. The large hand caressed his fur and slowly descended. In Pastel's chest, the burn of pain softened gently, turning to warmth.

  "I dreamt of you a few nights ago..." The hand was still moving down.

  "There were... houses on fire. I was you and... someone was calling me... calling you."

  "hmm hmmm" Yeen said simply, his big, warm hand finally reaching Pastel's crotch. The latter let out a subtle moan.

  "Yeen..."