The cat did not wait for a second look. A hiding place in a tree’s boughs would not stop that Hound, not for a moment.
He dropped to the ground and continued his flight, speeding over the terrain until his paws bled. Stick to the River! he told himself. Otherwise, in his madness, he might set foot on a Path he did not wish to take. No point in running himself into a trap just to flee that Hound. But he must get away! Stick to the River and don’t look back!
If the Hound caught him, he would lose everything. If the Hound caught him, he would swallow him whole. Not just his physical body . . . no, no. Much worse than that.
When the Hound caught his quarry, he swallowed it down to the essence of the soul. There would be nothing left of Eanrin, nothing at all.
The River rocks could tear the cat’s feet to ribbons, and still he would not slow. He would run the rest of his long, long life, run until eternity ran out.
Or so he thought.
He took a turn in the River, scrambling to round the bend, and encountered a body lying on the bank. He should have kept going. Years later, he would often wonder what would have happened if he had followed his natural instincts, leapt over that fallen form, and sped upon his way unheeding.
Instead, he came to a scrambling halt, just before his weary paws trod upon the person’s arm. And he swore violently.
“Dragon’s spittle and flame! What kind of fool do you take me for?”
Lying on the River’s edge, collapsed with her arms and the ends of her hair trailing in the water, was a young mortal girl.
Someone was kissing her face.
The knowledge came to Hri Sora before she was truly conscious. She felt the kisses on her cheek, on her forehead, and they were tender. Her body shuddered in revulsion before her mind was even awake, a natural reaction against affection.
Who was kissing her?
The question was the first coherent thought that returned to her fire-blackened mind. She could not remember her own name or where she was, but that question forced itself upon her angrily, demanding an answer. Was it—
She sat up with a snarl. “Amarok!”
He was not there.
Her eyelids were heavy, but she forced them open. She wasn’t inside the dark hut on the hill. Rather, she lay upon an empty street. The stones were hot beneath her, pleasantly so. Her dragon spirit relished the heat and the pain, though her woman’s body suffered from it.
Shaking herself and wiping the memory of the kisses off her cheeks, she cast about to get her bearings. Ah yes! Her city. Her demesne. It was dead now, just as she was, but like her, it was reborn in this monstrous form. Burned beyond all recognition, it reflected its mistress to perfection.
Hri Sora smiled. How she had loved her city, once upon a time. How she hated it now! But it was hers more than ever. Hate was a fearful binding.
She got to her feet. It took time to recognize where she stood, on Ehikatl Road. This road had led straight through the city once, from the Omeztli Tower to Itonatiu. But it wasn’t a road intended for walking. Hri Sora swore as she took her first step. The Sky People had never walked these ways; even the fledglings had flown.
Yet here she was now, picking her way along like a guest of the city, or an enemy. But she was no enemy. The city belonged to her! The inhabitants, they had been the enemy when they dared to fly when she could not.
She must get her wings back.
A shadow caught her eye. She turned and caught a glimpse of a small form darting into hiding behind one of the towers. The riddle was answered; she now knew the source of the kisses.
“Away with you!” she cried, flinging up her arms, tearing at the air with her talon fingers. “Out of my sight, monsters!”
She received no answer, and this was good. The creatures had fled, then. They were useful beasts, but they looked too much like their father.
She continued up the road, uncertain why. Trapped in a woman’s body, exhausted from a fire that was too powerful for this form, she struggled once more to regain her memory. She could not yet recall Gleamdren or the Flowing Gold, so she wandered without aim, feeling the death of her city beneath her bare feet. What a malevolent force Etalpalli had become! She felt the hunger in its stones. Helping her destroy its inhabitants had whetted its taste for death. But no living creatures remained aside from Hri Sora. And of course her children. They, however, could not be eaten, for they were of her own flesh, heirs to Etalpalli.
She’d have to provide more food for her city in time.
The road turned unexpectedly. Why? In olden times, it had run straight from Moon Tower to Sun Tower. Hissing, Hri Sora took hold of the city with her mind, trying to wrench it back. But then she saw where the turn had brought her.