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  　The wings wilted again. It took a few shaking steps back as Richard started off again. This time it stayed put as he went on his way.

  　Richard had the woman’s body to bury, and he needed to get back to camp before Sister Verna decided to use the collar to bring him back. He had no desire to give her an excuse; he knew she would find one soon enough. He glanced behind to make sure the gar hadn’t followed. He was alone.

  　He found the body, laid on its back, where he had left it. He noted with relief that there were no blood flies about. He had to find either a patch of ground soft enough to dig a hole, or else a deep crevice of some sort to hide her body in. Sister Verna had been explicit about hiding it well.

  　As he was surveying the scene, there was a soft flutter of wings and the little gar thumped to the ground nearby. He muttered a quiet lament as the creature folded its wings and squatted comfortably before him, peering up with big green eyes.

  　Richard tried to shoo it away again. It didn’t move. He put his hands on his hips.

  　‘You can’t come with me. Go away!’

  　It tottered to him and clutched his legs. What was he going to do? He couldn’t have a gar tagging after him.

  　‘Where are your flies? You don’t even have any blood flies of your own. How can you expect to catch your dinner without your own blood flies?’ He gave a rueful shake of his head. ‘Well, it’s not my concern.’

  　The 【创建和谐家园】all, wrinkled face peeked around his legs. A low growl came from its throat as its lips pulled back to reveal sharp little fangs. Richard looked around. It was growling at the dead woman. He closed his eyes with a groan. The pup was hungry. If he buried the body, the gar would dig it up.

  　Richard watched as the gar hopped over to the body, pawing at it as its growls grew louder. Richard tried to swallow back the dryness in his throat, or maybe the things he was thinking.

  　Sister Verna had said to get rid of the body. They mustn’t know how the woman had died, she had said. He couldn’t stand the thought of the remains being eaten. But even if he buried it, it would be eaten anyway - by worms. Why were worms better than a gar? Another ghastly thought came to him: who was he to judge - he had eaten human flesh. Why was that any different? Was he any better?

  　And besides, if the pup was busy eating, he could be off, and they would be gone before it had time to follow. It would be on its own then. He would be rid of it.

  　Richard watched as the little gar cautiously inspected the body. It experimentally tugged at an arm with its teeth. The pup wasn’t experienced enough to know what to do with a kill. It growled louder. The sight made Richard sick.

  　The teeth dropped the arm and the gar looked at him, as if to ask for help. The wings fluttered with excitement. It was hungry.

  　Two problems at once.

  　What difference did it make? She was dead. Her spirit had departed her body and wouldn’t miss it. It would solve two problems at once. Gritting his teeth at the task in mind, he drew the sword.

  　Pushing back the hungry gar with a leg, Richard took a mighty swing, slashing open a great rent. The little gar pounced.

  　Richard walked quickly away without looking back. The sounds turned his stomach. Who was he to judge? Lightheaded, he broke into a trot back to the camp. Sweat soaked his shirt. The sword had never felt so heavy at his hip. He tried to put the whole incident out of his head. He thought about the Hartland Woods and wished he were home. He wished he could still be who he had once been.

  　Sister Verna had just finished currying Jessup and was lifting on his saddle. She eyed him with a sidelong glance before moving to her horse’s head, speaking softly and privately to him as she scratched his chin. Richard took up the curry comb and brushed quickly at Geraldine’s back, cautioning her sharply to stand still and quit turning about. He wanted to be away quickly.

  　‘Did you make sure they wouldn’t find the body?’

  　His hand with the comb froze on Geraldine’s flanks. ‘If they find what’s left, they won’t know what happened. I was attacked by gars. They got the body.’

  　She thought this over silently for a moment. ‘I thought I heard gars. Well, I guess that will do.’ He went back to brushing as she spoke again. ‘Did you kill them?’

  　‘I killed one.’ He considered not telling her, but decided it didn’t matter. ‘There was a baby gar. I didn’t kill it.’

  　‘Gars are murderous beasts. You should have killed it. Perhaps you should go back and finish it.’

  　‘I can’t. It ... won’t let me get close enough.’

  　With a little grunt she pulled the girth strap tight. ‘You have a bow.’

  　‘What difference does it make? Let’s just be off. All by itself, it will probably die anyway.’

  　She bent, checking that the strap wasn’t pinching her horse. ‘Perhaps you’re right. It would be best if we were away from here.’

  　‘Sister? Why haven’t the gars bothered us before?’

  　‘Because I shield against them with my Han. You were too far away, beyond my shields, and so they came for you.’

  　‘So this shield will keep all gars away from us?’

  　‘Yes.’

  　Well, at least there was one thing the Han was good for.

  　‘Doesn’t that take a lot of power? Gars are big beasts. Isn’t it hard?’

  　The question brought a 【创建和谐家园】all 【创建和谐家园】ile to her lips. ‘Yes, gars are big, and there are other beasts I must shield against, too. All this would take much power. You must always search for the way to accomplish the task using the least amount of Han.’

  　She stroked her horse’s neck as she went on. ‘I keep the gars away not by repelling the beasts themselves, but by shielding against their blood flies. It’s much easier. If the flies can’t get through the shield, the gars won’t think there is anything worthwhile and so won’t come to us either. It uses little of my strength this way, yet achieves my aim.’

  　‘Why didn’t you use this shield against the people here? Against the woman tonight?’

  　‘Some of the people in the wilds have charms against our power. That’s why many Sisters die trying to cross. If we knew how these charms or spells worked, we might be able to counter them, but we don’t. It’s a mystery to us.’

  　Richard finished saddling Geraldine and Bonnie in silence. The Sister waited patiently. He thought she had more to say, about their argument before he had gone to bury the woman, but she remained silent. He decided to speak first, and get it over with.

  　‘Sister Verna, I’m sorry about Sisters Grace and Elizabeth.’ He idly stroked Bonnie’s shoulder as he studied the ground. ‘I said a prayer over their graves. I just wanted you to know that. A prayer to the good spirits to watch over them and treat them well. I didn’t want them to die. You may think otherwise, but I don’t want anyone to die. I’m sick of death. I can’t even eat meat anymore because I can’t stand the thought of anything having to die just to feed me.’

  　‘Thank you for the prayer, Richard, but you must learn that it is only the Creator we must pray to. It is His light that guides. Praying to spirits is heathenish.’ She seemed to think better of her harsh tone, and softened it. ‘But you are unschooled, and would not know that. I can’t fault you for doing the best you could. I’m sure the Creator heard your prayer, and understood its benevolent intent.’

  　Richard didn’t like her narrow-minded attitude. He thought that perhaps he knew more about spirits than she did. He didn’t know much about this Creator of hers, but he had seen spirits before, both good and bad. He knew you ignored them at your own peril.

  　Her dogmas seemed as foolish to him as the superstitions of the country people he knew when he had been a guide. They had been full of stories of how people came to be. Each remote area he had visited had its own version of man created from this or that animal or plant. Richard had liked listening to the stories. They were filled with wonder and magic. But they were just stories, rooted in a need to understand how the teller fit into the world. He was not going to accept on faith the things the Sisters said.

  　He did not think that the Creator was like some king, sitting upon a throne, listening to every petty prayer to come his way. Spirits had been alive once, and they understood the needs of mortals, understood the exigencies of living flesh and blood.

  　Zedd had taught him that the Creator was simply another name for the force of balance in all things, and not some wise man sitting in judgment.

  　But what did it matter? He knew people held tightly to their doctrines and were closed-minded about it. Sister Verna believed what she did and he wasn’t going to change it. He had never faulted people for the beliefs they held; he was not about to start now. Such beliefs, true or not, could be a balm.

  　He pulled the baldric off over his head and held the sword out to her. ‘I’ve thought about the things you said before. I’ve decided I don’t want the sword anymore.’

  　Her hands came up and he laid the weight of the sword, scabbard, and baldric in them.

  　She showed no emotion. ‘Do you really mean this?’

  　He nodded. ‘I do. I am finished with it. The sword is yours now.’