Then Aurox began to weep.

Sylvia Redbird hesitated for only a small heartbeat of time. Through his tears Aurox watched her tilt her head up again and nod, as if she'd received an answer to a question. Then she walked gracefully to him, the long leather fringe on her dress rustling musically with her movements and the touch of the cool morning breeze.

She did not hesitate when she reached him. Sylvia Redbird sat, folding her bare feet beneath her, and then she put her arms around him and drew his head to her shoulder.

Aurox never knew how long they sat like that together. He only knew that as he sobbed she held him and rocked him gently, back and forth, softly singing a chant and patting his back in time to her heartbeat.

Finally, he pulled back, turning his face away in shame.

"No, child," she said, taking his shoulders and forcing him to meet her gaze. "Before you turn away, tell me why you wept."

Aurox wiped his face, cleared his throat, and in a voice that sounded young and, he thought, very foolish, said, "It is because I am sorry."

Sylvia Redbird held his gaze. "And?" she prompted.

He blew out a long breath and admitted, "And because I am so alone."

Sylvia's dark eyes widened. "You are more than you appear to be."

"Yes. I am a monster of Darkness, a beast," he agreed with her.

Her lips tilted up. "Can a beast weep in sorrow? Does Darkness have the capacity to feel loneliness? I think not."

"Then why do I feel so foolish for weeping?"

"Think on this," she said. "Your spirit wept. It needed to mourn because it felt sorrow and loneliness. It is for you to decide whether or not that is foolish. For me, I have already decided there is no shame to be found in honest tears." Sylvia Redbird stood and held one small, deceptively frail hand out to him. "Come with me, child. I open my home to you."

"Why would you do that? You watched me kill a Warrior last night, and wound another. I could have killed Zoey as well."

She cocked her head to the side and studied him. "Could you have? I think not. Or at least I think the boy I see at this moment could not kill her."

Aurox felt his shoulders slump. "But only you believe that. No one else will."

"Well, tsu-ka-nv-s-di-na, I am the only person here with you at this moment. Is my belief not enough?"

Aurox wiped his face again and stood, a little unsteadily. Then he took her delicate hand very carefully in his. "Sylvia Redbird, your belief is enough at this moment."

She squeezed his hand, smiled, and said, "Call me Grandma."

"What is it you call me, Grandma?"

She smiled. "Tsu-ka-nv-s-di-na is my people's word for bull."

He felt hot and then cold. "The beast I become is more terrible than a bull."

"Then perhaps naming you tsu-ka-nv-s-di-na will take some of the horror from what sleeps within you. There is power in the naming of something, child."

"Tsu-ka-nv-s-di-na. I will remember that," Aurox said.

Still feeling shaky, he walked with the magickal old woman to the little farmhouse that rested between sleeping lavender fields. It was made of stone and had an invitingly wide porch. Grandma led him to a deep leather couch and gave him a hand-woven blanket to wrap around his shoulders. Then she said, "I would ask you to rest your spirit." Aurox did as she asked while Grandma sang a song softly to herself, built a hearth fire, boiled water for tea, then retrieved and gifted him with a sweatshirt and soft leather shoes from another room. After the room was warm and her song was finished, Grandma motioned for him to join her at a small wooden table, offering him food from a purple plate.

Aurox sipped the honey-sweetened tea and ate from the plate. "Th-thank you, Grandma," he said haltingly. "The food is good. The drink is good. Everything here is so good."

"The tea is chamomile and hyssop. I use it to help me be calm and focused. The cookies are my own recipe-chocolate chip with a hint of lavender. I've always believed chocolate and lavender are good for the soul." Grandma smiled and bit into a cookie. They ate in silence.

Aurox had never felt so content. He knew it couldn't be, but somehow he had a sense of belonging here with this woman. It was that odd but wonderful sense of belonging that allowed him to begin speaking to her from his heart.

"Neferet commanded me here last night. I was to disrupt the ritual."

Grandma nodded. Her expression was not surprised but contemplative. "She wouldn't have wanted to be revealed as my daughter's murderer."