Rook flew through the storm.
He didn't know where he was going.
He only knew one thing.
His mother was hurt.
When he reached the edge of Bellweather, smoke was rising from the rooftops.
But Mara was gone.
Rook landed in the center of the village.
He searched the streets.
He searched the cottage.
He searched the small room beneath the floor.
Nothing.
Her scarf was gone.
Her bed was empty.
Her wooden spoon lay broken beside the fireplace.
Rook picked it up.
He stared at it.
Then he smelled something.
Mara's scent.
It led beyond the village.
He followed it to the eastern road.
There, in the mud, he found her blood-stained shawl.
Rook froze.
He looked toward the village.
Something inside him broke.
He remembered every word the villagers had used.
Monster.
Curse.
Kill it.
He remembered Gideon's hand striking Mara.
His eyes turned silver-white.
The first flame came quietly.
A spark.
Then another.
Rook opened his wings.
The night sky disappeared behind them.
He roared.
The sound shook the mountain.
Villagers ran from their homes.
Some looked up.
Some dropped their weapons.
Gideon stood in the square.
"No."
Rook descended.
Fire exploded across the rooftops.
The village caught flame.
People fled.
Rook moved from building to building, his rage growing with every memory.
But there was no joy in him.
Only pain.
He searched for Gideon.
The elder ran toward the church.
Rook followed.
Gideon looked back.
"You think this makes you innocent?"
Rook roared.
Gideon raised his hands.
"Your mother brought this on herself!"
Rook froze.
For one second, the fire stopped.
Then Gideon screamed,
"She chose you!"
Rook struck the ground beside him.
The church doors exploded open.
Gideon ran.
Rook didn't follow.
He looked around.
The entire village was burning.
And suddenly, he heard a child's cry.
Rook turned.
A little girl was trapped beneath a fallen wooden beam.
She looked up at him.
"Please."
Rook stared.
The fire reflected in her terrified eyes.
He remembered Mara.
"Never hurt people because they're afraid."
Rook lowered his head.
He carefully lifted the beam.
The girl crawled free.
Rook carried her away from the flames.
Then he returned to the village.
He searched again.
No Mara.
Only ash.
He flew back to the eastern road.
Nothing.
Rook screamed into the darkness.
His roar echoed between the mountains.
Then he saw something.
A set of wagon tracks.
Fresh.
Heading away from Bellweather.
Rook lowered his head.
Mara was alive.
Or someone had taken her.
He followed the tracks.
But after several miles, they disappeared at a river.
Rook sat beside the water.
For the first time since his mother had sent him away, he cried like the child he still was.
He curled around the red scarf.
"Ma..."
The wind carried no answer.
Miles away, however, Mara was breathing.
Barely.
And a stranger was carrying her toward a home she had never seen before.