Her own demanding voice rang in her ears, accentuated by the stillness of the Field around her. A breeze whispered through the grass, rustling her fur and bringing more of Covet’s scent to her nostrils, setting her teeth on edge. And still he did not appear. She narrowed her eyes and looked around again, keeping herself close to the fallen burro should its blood attract any more attention; somehow she didn’t think that the black-eyed monster would be after her meal, unless it was her. The idea made her stomach churn and her heart beat faster, pulsating in her throat as though it would choke her.

Even as the panic fluttered in her chest, he was suddenly there, slithering from the grass and brushing against her flank, ribs, and shoulder. Startled, she jumped at the contact, a snarl rumbling from her throat as she backed away from his touch. Their last touch was still very vivid in her mind, and she had no desire to repeat it. She snapped at his heels as he dodged around to face her, her teeth clipping loudly on the warm air, and then settled down once the distance opened between them. It was easier when he wasn’t touching her. She couldn’t breathe or think when he touched her.

Face to face. For the first time in over a year. And now she didn’t know what to say. She had hoped – in vain, it would seem – that Dieloch would reappear with him. That he would at least allow her to see the son he’d forced her to carry. But it was only him, and her, and the dead burro at her feet. She waited, meeting his hollow eyes with her wide, jade ones, waited for something – an explanation, some indication of what was coming next. Maybe he’d tell her what she wanted to know if she played his game; what would happen if she lost?

Silence was all he had to offer. Silence and that empty stare. It swallowed her and spit her back out, gradually undoing the cool demeanor she had spent so much time piecing together. She felt it coming apart, a chip at a time, but this time she didn’t feel weak, or powerless. Preyed upon, maybe, but that didn’t necessarily make her prey. If it came to that, he’d have a fight on his hands. After some long moments, the quiet became too much, and she had to break the tension. “Where is my son?” Her voice wavered as she finally spoke aloud that most important question. It was the same thing she’d been asking herself day after day for a year, and now she wasn’t sure if she wanted the answer.