The mood in the camp was sombre. A red dawn signalled the possibility of rain, which had put a damper on things before the first drop fell. The tribe had been up all night, celebrating a great victory. The Mistborne Tribe, as they were known, had not suspected an attack in broad daylight. Lowe’s men had stormed the camp on horseback, cutting down the Mistborne men where they stood. Their Onkarl had taken his own life in his tent moments after the fighting broke out. He knew Lowe, leader of the Blackwater tribe, to be a cruel man and did not care to face a slow death, but one of his choosing.

Kyanite and his brother, Jaeger, had seen to the dead and dying, ensuring a swift end and as little suffering as possible to those who had been mortally wounded during the attack. Both refused to take a life that might have otherwise been saved, after-all, it could have just as easily been their own people. The brothers shared a look during the aftermath, quiet and still as their Onkarl approached to crow about a victory he had been chasing for the better part of Bloom into early Blaze.

Death was inevitable in Emanys, their way of life ensured that, but the slaughter of another tribe, one far smaller than their own, was nothing to be celebrated in the eyes of the brothers. Even so, they endured a sleepless night, drank with the other warriors, and suffered, as the rest of the tribe did, a lingering and unavoidable hangover the following morning.

Tensions between the brothers were still high, after Kyanite had married Jaeger’s childhood sweetheart, Ari, under order of the Onkarl. The brothers had yet to talk, with Kyanite fearing it would eventually come to blows. They sat on opposite sides of the Mistborne firepit, careful not to engage the same tribemates as one another or get too involved in open conversation. Jaeger had found his feet a couple of hours before his older brother, Kyanite, taking leave without a word.

The trek back to the camp under a red sky had been long and lonely. Kyanite had refused to escort any of Lowe’s captives back to the camp, wanting little to do with the handful of women and children the Onkarl had chosen to take as slaves. Eventually they would earn their place among the tribe, either through marriage to existing members or choosing to stay and work. Kyanite was not fond of his older, half-brother’s tactics for growth, but each season, Lowe seemed to recruit more and more individuals through combat. The man walked a fine line, Kyanite had decided, earning himself very little loyalty.

“They will follow a strong leader.” Lowe was always saying.

A small part of Kyanite hoped he was right, for this was their father’s legacy, one they were all responsible for. Such methods, however, conflicted directly with Kyanite’s oaths as a Rider of Tundra, tasked with serving the people of Emanys as well as the land itself. He climbed down from his horse and looked over the Blackwater camp, just shy of twenty families strong. What would the summer bring, he wondered. Since the wedding, everything seemed to hang in the balance.

Blushing fingertips walked the length of Kyanite’s arm, waking him with a start. He twisted on the furs to find Ari sat beside him and touched the bedding beneath her only to discover it was cold. Where does she go, he wondered, when he was fast asleep. Her sandy hair was wispy, windswept and untamed. She greeted him with a careful smile and soft blue eyes. In the ger it was dark, the canvas of the door pulled to.

“What time is it?” Kyanite asked.

“High sun,” Ari replied. “You haven’t slept long.”

He reached out and Ari visibly tensed, only to find courage as his hand stilled, mid-air, soon greeted by her own. She guided his hand to the swell of her belly. The birth of their first born was only days away now and Kyanite was growing anxious to meet their little one. Ari held his hand against her belly, her fingers closed over two of his own, watching and waiting. A small thud to the man’s palm signaled that their baby was healthy and strong. Kyanite smiled. Ari didn’t see it.

“Have the rest of the men returned?”

“They have,” Ari answered.

Kyanite rose from the bed of furs and dressed. He looked over his shoulder at his wife. She sat on her knees with her gaze pointed at the floor. When their eyes met, Kyanite was unable to read the emotion in her stare. He took his spear and ducked through the door of the ger without so much as a farewell.

The glasslands were dry around the camp where the tribes herds had roamed. Kyanite looked towards the distant mountains, blue and grey against a lighter sky. He made a beeline for his younger brother’s tent. One of Lowe’s children, his nephew, stopped him in his tracks.

“Jaeger has gone hunting,” the boy said.

“Which way?” Kyanite asked.

The boy pointed west in the direction the rest of the tribesmen had returned from earlier that day. Jaeger’s trail would be difficult to follow, Kyanite thought, something his brother may have intended.

Kyanite rode west on a palomino mare, a direct descendant of his grandmother’s horse, a strong animal with a spirited temperament. Her white mane brushed against the man’s arm as he rode bareback, using his legs to steer the beast in place of reins. Together they followed the flattened trail of grass towards the camp they had raided the day before, until Kyanite noticed a narrow line through the tall grass swerve off to the south. He guided the mare towards the trail and followed it to its end.

Jaeger knelt hunched over a wild boar, too large to carry home on his mount. An arrow protruded from the pig’s right flank, a second from the back of the neck.

“A clean kill, brother,” Kyanite said in greeting.

Jaeger had already turned to witness his brother’s approach and did not waste any time to steal a second glance. Instead he pulled out the animal’s insides with his bare hands and called for Kyanite to fetch some rope in order to bind its hind legs. Kyanite bent to assist the man, removing the arrows before applying the rope, checking to make sure it was secure. Jaeger, just as Ari had, avoided eye contact with the man.

“My first born will arrive soon,” Kyanite said. “Perhaps you and I can hunt together to celebrate the occasion.”

Jaeger grunted an inaudible reply.

“Unless you are not happy for me, brother?” Kyanite challenged.

There followed no further exchange of words. Jaeger turned as he rose and sent a closed fist into Kyanite’s jaw. The blow sent him backwards and Jaeger followed, falling on his brother, fists balled, eyes summoning tears. The pair wrestled in the tall grass, each of them landing a number of decent strikes. A man will never punish anyone quite like he does his brother, their father had once said, and, in that moment, Kyanite believed every word. No one had ever hit him so hard as Jaeger did now and, for a split second, he imagined he was capable of the most terrible things.

He threw his brother off with a strong kick to the abdomen. Jaeger found himself on his back, his older brother quick to steal advantage. Jaeger was unable to block the first two punches as he fought to free his arms, but managed to dodge the next strike. He took hold of Kyanite’s wrists and the pair scuffled, each desperate to land another hit. This storm had been brewing since Lowe had made the announcement. A part of Kyanite knew his brother needed this, how else would they bury the hatchet?

The brothers shared a horse on the ride home, each bloodied and bruised. The second horse carried the gutted boar back to the camp. Jaeger walked with a limp and, when Ari stepped forth from Kyanite’s ger, her gaze lingered on the younger of the two brothers. Everything in her told her to go to the one she loved, but it was Kyanite she approached with tender hands outstretched. He tongued the cut on his lower lip and gestured with a nod for her to tend to Jaeger. He knew then and there that Ari would never return to his ger, not even to collect her things.

Kyanite did not join the tribe for a meal that night, but instead chose to lick his wounds and reflect on the year to date. He had lost a wife only a season after their binding. As trade, he had earned the admiration and trust of his brother once more, but at what cost? Ari would give birth to a child his brother would raise, something Lowe would not approve. They would cross that bridge when they came to it, he thought. For now Kyanite would focus on his work, which would allow him to spend some time away from the tribe.

He planned his next steps carefully, going over them in his mind. This was not the life-path he had envisioned for himself, but one he knew he must strive to overcome. Too long he had been content to follow orders he did not agree with. Lowe was not the leader or man their father would have chosen for the Blackwater Tribe. Kyanite knew he had two options, bite his tongue and remain with the tribe or go. He packed a bag, folded some dried meat in a piece of cloth and readied his weapons for an early departure. Tomorrow he would start again, he thought to himself. Tomorrow was filled with so much promise.