DESPITE THE DAY being just past noon, storm clouds blackened the sky. Rain poured in piercing, cold sheets. The wind howled through the forest like a pack of starving wolves, whipping ancient trees as though they were merely saplings, some falling prey to the hungry tempest. The creaks, groans and occasional snaps and crashes melded with the thunder.

A lone, abandoned building stood in the midst of the storm’s chaos, surrounded by the charred bones of its fellows. The solitary barn, standing defiantly against nature’s rage, endured as a testament to an unknown builder’s talent and dedication to his art, a symbol of sanctuary to any in need of shelter.

A flash of lightning arced across the sky, illuminating the road near the structure. Two cloaked figures ran towards the structure. Seasonal debris wedged the doors shut. The larger figure wrenched the door open, letting the smaller one enter before squeezing inside and dragging the door closed. The storm briefly intensified, as if having a temper tantrum over their escape from its reach.

Inside, a few spaces between the boards of the wall allowed the wind to blow in, but not nearly as hard as it blew outside. The pair started stripping off their cloaks and gear. Tiwaz stumbled a step; Doom caught her arm to keep her upright. “Thanks,” she said wearily.

“Are you all right, Ti?” he rumbled in a deep voice filled with concern. He touched her cheek with the back of his fingers.

The woman nodded as she pulled away, going to sit on the floor against a stall wall in the open area. “I’m fine, Doom. Just a little dizzy. Stop worrying about me.”

He snorted. “No, you are not fine, and I will worry if I want to,” he informed her pointedly. He pulled his drier spare cloak out and draped it around her. “Looks like others use this for shelter now and then. There’s firewood over here.” She started to try to stand up but he put his hands on both of her shoulders to keep her seated. “You’re exhausted, Ti. Just rest. My hands are good enough for me to start a fire.”

She looked up at him worriedly. “You are sure?”

“Absolutely.” Once she acquiesced, he went over to the pile of wood and brought some over, getting the campfire going quickly. He watched her as she pulled the cloak around herself unconsciously, eyes closed. “You don’t look too good.”

“I’m fine,” she replied, but she was unconvincing. She offered a wan smile, opening her eyes. “I suppose it is a good thing cats have nine lives.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “Even if that adage applied to you, you used up those nine lives a long time ago. Ten times over, at least.”

Her smile faded as she shivered and looked away. “Yes. You are right. I’m stupid.”

“Ti, stop being so—” Doom began, then he stopped himself. He sat beside her, putting his arm around her to warm her. “It will be all right. We’ll find someplace to call our own. We’ll find a home.” They both looked up when birds roosting in the rafters above startled at a loud crack of thunder that vibrated the building to the foundation.

She put her small, cold hand over his heart. “Forgive me for not killing Alimar for what he had done to you.” He looked down, meeting her bright eyes. “You were born to soar the skies. No one born to fly should have to walk among us grounded ones.”

“We were just children then.” Doom covered her hand, squeezing gently. “But you tried. That is more than even I had done. And nothing compared to what he’d done to you when you dared attack him to protect me.” He smiled, an expression that would have terrified anyone else. “But I learned to live without. So did you.”

“But…” Her eyes reflected her troubled heart, holding out her hands to look at her wrists, the scars concealed by her bracers. “But it isn’t right. Not yet. I have what he took from me. You do not.”

He hushed her. “We haven’t stopped at all for two days. Lie down. Sleep.” She briefly resisted, then gave in, resting her head on his chest as he rubbed his hand across her back. He watched the fire in silence, feeling her finally relax into deep sleep. “Neither of us have what we lost. Your magic was never taken from you. The glyphs had blocked it.” He sighed heavily. “Your memories of your life before slavery. Of your people and your family. Your name. Your sense of self. That’s what he really stole from you.”

Outside, the storm raged.