Halvis pressed his back against the twisted remnants of a tree trunk. Its roots spread out around him like cracks in fragile ice. One hand rubbed the sore muscles in his back and shoulders, and the other smoothed the fur around Ekirn’s vest, whose head rested in his lap. The fog obscured anything more than twenty feet away, so he kept his ears open. Ekirn’s hung motionless.

After swigging from his canteen, and chewing on a shank of jerky, Halvis rose. Ekirn sprang up to forge ahead, snout to the ground. Halvis turned his head back and forth, listening and looking, remembering, and lowering each boot like placing his sleeping daughter on her bed. He checked his compass.

Ekirn’s head rose, looking to their left, limbs rigid. Halvis went to one knee, and Ekirn flattened himself down. Halvis brought his rifle up to his chin, squinting into the fog. After a few moments they went on, pulling past damp underbrush and over fallen logs. Halvis checked his compass again. Once they got through the forest, they would have to cross the plains.

His boots slid through soaked leaves and mud, and Ekirn’s dark snout snuffled at the ground. Halvis held his breath.

Again Ekirn halted, body like a statue, glaring ahead. Halvis patted his head and bent down again, creeping forward until he took shelter behind a stump. He peered around the stump, and the fog cleared for a moment, revealing a woman, holding a rifle, standing amidst a few trees. She looked up.

Halvis frowned and raised the rifle to his chin again. He made to close the distance between them when Ekirn glanced up, ears rotating.

Halvis dove to the ground, rifle pointed ahead. The fog closed in again, but the woman hadn’t moved. He locked where she stood in his mind, keeping the end of his rifle pointed at her chest. The flutter of wings cut through the silence and he fired; the sharp sound pulverized the fog and blasted a hole through it ahead of him.

The echo died. Halvis tapped Ekirn’s shoulder and pointed; Ekirn rose and started to pad forward. When ten feet separated them, Halvis followed in a crouch.

When Halvis stood over her body, and Ekirn pawed at the corpse of the hawk, his legs and back burned. His round had gone through both the bird and the woman, blowing the first into bits and exiting the second lung in the span of her last breath. Blood coated her body, and still welled from the wound, even if her heart had stopped beating. He knelt down.

The patch on her coat–a colorful bird in flight–revealed her as a member of one of the clans who had attacked his, and he searched her pockets. He found sourdough biscuits, a half-filled canteen, a long piece of string, and bits of raw rabbit, which Ekirn gobbled down. Her rounds wouldn’t fit his rifle.

He also found a scrawled map. On it a path led from a mass of trees to flat, featureless land, to buildings, and then to waves. Someone had circled drawn boats floating on the waves. Halvis scowled and threw the map onto the woman’s body.

A few hours later it could have been noon, had the fog not grown up over their heads. Their vision shrank to no more than ten feet in any direction, but Ekirn kept his ears pricked. They’d encountered no other people, or animals, except for a solitary slug. Halvis hadn’t known whether to feed it to Ekirn or eat it himself.

After another rest, Halvis checked his compass and adjusted their course, but when he started to move on, Ekirn didn’t follow. Halvis whistled low, but the dog still didn’t move. Their eyes stayed on each other.

His heart started to pound. He turned his head, searching the fog for anything to make the dog freeze. When it showed nothing, he looked down.

A cord, made of thin metal, bowed under the pressure of his leg. Another half-step and it would have snapped, blowing him to smithereens, or shooting a poison dart into his chest, or chopping his leg off, or any other of a hundred nasty ends. He moved his leg back, one inch at a time until the cord returned to its resting position. He let out a breath.

A burst of wings cut through the limp leaves still clinging to trees and a black-gray blur dove at Ekirn. The dog reared on its hind legs, snapping, and the hawk fluttered away, a clump of fur clutched in its talons.

Halvis brought his rifle up, squeezed all the air from his lungs as the hawk pumped its wings to rise an inch, and fired. The hawk smashed into a tree trunk as the sound again filled the forest. Ekirn tried to twist his neck to look at the scratch in his flank the hawk’s talons had left, and then both of them froze when voices came through the fog, in the direction the hawk had flown.

Halvis stepped over the cord and whistled for Ekirn, who leaped past him. They picked up their speed, continuing south. The fog swirled around them, like eddies in gray water, as they rushed through, trying to keep from making too much noise. Halvis kept himself low as Ekirn pelted ahead, then waited in a shadow for Halvis to catch up.

Halvis tried to count them. At least three, no more than five. Down one hawk, but not all of them might have brought one. They all have weapons, however. He picked up his speed.

The forest thinned. Fewer decaying trunks to skirt, fewer roots going nowhere to step over. The land began to lose gullies and crags, becoming flat.

At once the trees ended. The fog lessened, showing him damp and empty fields, but he slid to a halt and pulled Ekirn into a foxhole. The dog went still, tail rigid.

Three rounds remained in his rifle. The two of them waited for a minute.

Creeping out as low as he could, eyes up and both hands squeezing the rifle, he went around the boulder, avoiding the dead leaves, and scanned the field behind the forest.

A man stood in the field, pointed away from the forest, looking for any aberration of the field. Looking for Halvis. Halvis sighted on him. The man continued looking, motionless.

A few seconds passed. The man still didn’t move.

Would he fall apart as so many others did, or would the round fail to injure him, just like when these birds of prey had attacked his home, and Halvis’s rounds had gone far wide, despite aiming right into the chests of the attackers?

He lowered his rifle and retreated, Ekirn lowering soft paws at his side. They wouldn’t be too far back; they had to have eyes on the guinea pig. Halvis went north, away from the field, about a hundred feet, then came around to the west, looking for the backs of coats, the undersides of boots, and the butts of rifles.

A person crouched in a bush, and another lay prone ten feet to the right. Their rifles swept the forest around them, eyes on the man in the field, just visible through the fog.

Halvis looked up for hawks. After a moment he discarded the action.

The two in front of him stayed stiff. Halvis turned his head, keeping his body still, to look for another person behind him, or around him. After another minute of waiting–Halvis’s legs and arms burned; sweat and fog mingled on his brow–a hawk fluttered down to the man crouching on the left. Halvis waited a moment more, listening for more wings, but the group’s other hawk decomposed in the mud.

He needed one moment. He kept his left hand ready.

The man in the field peered back at the forest. He continued looking around, putting his hands on his hips.

The man on the right let the nose of his rifle touch the ground, adjusting a strap under his coat.

Halvis whistled, and pointed at the man on the right. Ekirn bolted forward as he brought his rifle up and fired. The round struck the man on the left in the lower back, and he cried out, startling the man still in the field as Ekirn reached his target, who had snatched up his rifle too late to stop the dog’s jaws from clamping over his throat. Ekirn aimed at the legs of the man in the field, as the man began to run toward the forest.

The round blew his ankle to dust, and he shrieked, collapsing in the field. Halvis moved forward, listening for more. Nothing appeared, and he got close enough to end the life of the man whose throat Ekirn had just ripped out. The hawk screeched, but Halvis had no rounds chambered, so Ekirn took care of it, ripping its wings off and breaking every fragile bone in its body.

Halvis moved beyond the trees, loading rounds as he walked toward the man he had shot in the ankle. The man struggled, crunching and snapping small stalks of grass as he reached for his rifle. Halvis kicked it away. The man looked up, and then he laughed.

“First I lose my wife, then my bird, and now I find out it was the old man who did it all.”

Halvis clenched his jaw, then shot him through the eye. Ekirn panted at his side, licking his chops, and sniffed at the man’s body as Halvis searched him. Among the normal items–a few pieces of food, an inferior compass, another map–he found what a strange brooch wrapped in loose wire. No soldier would wear such a thing; a valiant ray of light piercing the fog would give his position away to any nearby enemy.

Halvis brought it close to his ear. The thing let off a minuscule hum. He discovered a small switch, which ended the hum.

His round had blown his brain across the grass. If the device did protect from projectiles, the attacker must have to be farther away. He pocketed it, inside his coat, and took out his compass. He turned a bit and started walking, chambering a round as Ekirn trotted a hand’s breadth away.

#

The fog lifted into the open air, showing Halvis longer distances, but still turned anything beyond fifty feet into a hazy shape. Heavy grain filled the plains, brushing against his pants and the ragged hem of his coat. A light drizzle fell off and on, and Halvis looked out from under his hood. Ekirn slogged along next to him, enduring the indignity of wet fur.

The wind began to bite, even through his coat. Ekirn started hurrying ahead then falling back, building up warmth. They rested under a tilted tree, fog and rain dripping around them, huddled together and shivering.

An hour later Ekirn halted and spread his paws on the ground as if to keep his balance. His ears bounced as he whipped his head from side to side, and then Halvis froze as a rumble coursed up from the ground. Like ten thousand feet running. Halvis looked behind, expecting a force of hawks drilling down from the sky, and all their handlers, weapons blazing, but nothing came. Ekirn kept his body low, riding the rocking ground and looking at Halvis, bewildered.

No one came. He scratched behind Ekirn’s ears and kept walking, trying not to let his fear show, and soon the dog fell in step. Halvis double-checked the load in his rifle, walking until he reached a crushed wire fence, buried in the mud. Square tracks ran through the crinkled, crumpled remnants of the fence, and Halvis kept walking, unsurprised. Ekirn sniffed the flattened fence before joining his master.

They went east a short distance; Halvis kept the tracks at the edge of his vision, just before the fog swallowed them. He gave Ekirn the guard signal and slinked forward, crouching. After continuing for a bit, he reached into his coat and flicked the switch on the device he had pilfered from the soldier earlier. It vibrated. He shook his arms and stretched his legs; they grew tense and weak as he pulled himself forward low to the ground.

Evening–the color of the fog changed from light gray to dark–came a few hours later, and then they caught the tanks. They idled, rumbling, venting exhaust into the fog and dripping condensation, painted in muted browns and greens, taller than Halvis. Crude emblems of a snake dangling over a branch, on the tanks, told him which clan he now faced.

Soldiers milled around. Some sat in the tanks. More kept their eyes on the surrounding area. Halvis squatted down farther. Ekirn lay on his stomach, snout against the ground. He counted eleven. Each tank held four, and three more walked alongside or rode atop the huge mechanical beasts. They smoked, and talked, and ate as they walked, sure no one would be so bold as to assault them and their two old-world warriors rumbling alongside them.

Halvis kept up, pacing the tanks, inspecting every detail. The squad traveled south and didn’t waver in their course. The fog grew darker.

He waited until they stopped again. A few of the soldiers inside the tanks hopped out and went to conduct business with the bushes. One of them, who wore a gas mask over his mouth and nose, didn’t take a friend to watch his back.

Halvis tore off the soldier’s patch, pressing the snake over his own patch. He joined the squad and found two soldiers waiting.

“That’s what you get for taking so long to piss, Taiyrm!”

He nodded and fell into step behind the tanks. Ten soldiers and two tanks against him. Night fell and their visibility dropped to a few feet. The other soldiers discussed whether to leave the tanks behind or take them across the water.

At their slow pace they wouldn’t reach his goal until morning. They stopped a few hours later, and “Taiyrm” took the opportunity to go off on his own again, absorbing the mocking shouts from the other soldiers. He met Ekirn, who had followed off to the side on his own. After feeding the dog, Halvis put him on alert, and then took the small humming device from his pocket, placing it inside a pocket of the dog’s vest.

When he returned, the other soldiers had a fire going, but he took the chance to beg off the normal take and get some rest. When a hand grabbed Halvis during the night, it shook him awake so he could take over the watch.

The other soldier took Halvis’s spot on the ground and fell asleep. The fog diffused the glowing embers at the bottom of the fire, and Halvis stood beside it for a few moments, going over his next actions, his shadow taking shape in the fog behind him.

One soldier slept inside either tank. Eight more huddled around the fire, coats and threadbare blankets failing to keep out the damp cold. They had rifles, pistols, knives, and he’d even spotted a few grenades. He picked up one of them and went to the closer tank, dark and frozen in the night. He pulled the hatch open, trying not to make too much noise. The soldier inside snorted and mumbled but did nothing. After feeling around inside the hatch, Halvis put his hand over the soldier’s mouth and a knife in his heart.

The damp made cleaning the blood off easier.

After a little struggle, Halvis threw the body down into the grass alongside the tank, then readied the tank for the next step, leaving the hatch open.

He dragged the body away from the camp and found Ekirn. He put a finger to his lips and winked. The dog tilted his head. Halvis returned to the tanks; none of the soldiers had awoken. Nine left.

He went to the other tank, a bit farther from the campfire than the first. He dispatched the soldier inside in the same manner, leaving his body alongside the tank and leaving sticky blood coating the controls inside.

He turned the tank’s interior light on and inspected the controls. Levers, dials, switches. He recognized the pedals and a few other pieces. The soldiers from the snake clan had similar difficulty understanding the controls and had written instructions.

He climbed out of the tank and breathed in the soggy night. Eight soldiers left. He froze the image of them sleeping around the fire in his mind. He could miss once.

The tank snarled to life, startling the men sleeping around the campfire. After a few moments he set it trundling forward, and then he climbed up the hatch, hauling his rifle. The eight soldiers had jumped up, disoriented and sleepy, chasing the lights attached to the retreating tank through the murky fog. They hollered after it, and he aimed at where one had been lying. A scream of pain followed the rifle’s crack, and he chambered the next round. He fired again, earning nothing.

Running feet told him to change his aim. His next shot pinged off something, and then something heavy struck the ground. Helmet. Six soldiers.

Boots on metal–he aimed where the other tank sat, waiting until his mount’s shaking settled. Another shot and another voice cried out, audible for a moment over the din of the tank under him.

One of his tracks hit a bump, and Halvis fell out of the hatch. He landed on the tank’s hull behind the turret, keeping one hand on his rifle as he floundered. His other hand caught around part of the ammo rack, and he pulled himself up. He’d lost his sight of the campfire, and a moment later the other tank started.

A bang of the hatch closing, and then nothing for a few seconds. Then something forced metal in all directions, and grenade shrapnel filled the four bodies within the tank.

Two soldiers left.

Ammo inside the other tank ignited, shooting off hazy fireworks into the night. The flames illuminated a soldier, sprinting toward Halvis’s tank, coat flaring out behind him and gas mask hiding his snarl of fear and anger as he raised his rifle. After the flames disappeared, Halvis aimed, exhaled, and dropped the number of soldiers to one.

The last fled through the dark. He climbed into the hatch, dropping his rifle in first, and put his fingers in his mouth. The shrill whistle pierced the air.

He sank into the tank’s interior. Light from a small bulb filled it. The tank’s powerful headlamps illuminated roiling fields, and he drove, puzzling through the tank’s controls until four sets of nails jumped onto the tank’s hull. Halvis halted the tank and climbed up, welcoming Ekirn inside as the dog licked blood off his chops. Halvis sat in the driver’s seat, pointing its big gun south, while Ekirn sat in the gunner’s seat, head poking out the top of the hatch and tongue lolling in the breeze.

#

A few hours later the sun rose, and the fog turned to gold haze. The tank sputtered south, treads making short work of hills, gullies, and abandoned farmland. Halvis rubbed his face to keep himself awake; Ekirn dozed curled up in the gunner’s seat, snoring almost as loud as the engine.

The air had been changing all night long. From the wood of the forest to the open air of the field, now their noses picked up a new tang. Open water, rotting fish, and the wind pushing the waves against rocky shores. The land sloped downward.

Halvis checked and re-checked his rifle. He’ll be the first to reach his goal, but the Snake clan and the Hawk clan both had designs on it; others might as well.

The tank’s safety persisted until he tried to cross a stream’s ramshackle bridge. Wide enough, but not strong enough to keep the tank’s weight up, it fell to pieces just as the old warrior reached the other side. The front fell first, and the tank’s big barrel pierced the ground, suspending it over the stream, treads grinding against the bank and engine roaring.

Ekirn jolted forward off the gunner’s seat, landing with a yelp on Halvis’s head. Dirt filled the viewing window and threw the tank’s interior into darkness; man and dog struggled for their feet inside the tilted machine until Halvis turned the tank off and climbed out. Once Ekirn had freed himself, Halvis took one look at the tank—luck and wishes kept the remaining portion of the bridge stayed up, and the tank’s front had buried itself in the soil–and then moved on, spitting dirt from his mouth.

The smell of water led them south, down a dirt road. Crumbling buildings of collapsed walls and faded wood flanked both sides. Ekirn kept his nose in the air, turning his head to get scents better, periodically putting his snout to the dirt for a moment before continuing. Halvis kept walking. While searching through his pockets he spotted the snake patch, still attached to his coat, and he tore it off, letting it flutter to the ground.

The slope of the land led him down; more and more empty buildings appeared, stripped of anything worthwhile and left to rot in the salty, stinking fog. The dirt road turned to gravel, and Halvis relished crunching it under his boots.

Ears open, he advanced. Clouds of fog rolled over him and clung to his skin. His stolen mask kept out the reek of seafoam and fish.

Not the screech of gulls, or the shocking blare of a foghorn, or the dockworkers, ropes coiling around cleats, each heavy step rattling dock boards.

A few minutes later he reached his goal. He stood at the end of the dock and gazed over the open water. Tiny waves rippled the surface, lapping against the stout posts under him.

The quiet fog swirled around him, and the sea rumbled against the rocky shore, spitting up rotting water. He went toward a ramshackle house on the corner and pushed the door open. The interior held settled dust and empty shelves. He took the extra rounds out of his coat and set them up on their ends in a row, on a table inside the door.

He left the house. Ekirn gazed up at him, padding at his side. He went back to the dock and put his rifle down, lowering himself into the cold water, sucking in a breath as his pants and boots became heavy and frigid. He ducked under the dock, finding damp beams and algae-covered posts. He tied a piece of string to a supporting beam, leading it to the side of the dock, hanging out from under the wood at eye-level over the water.

He climbed up and sat at the end of the dock, legs dangling over the miniature waves. He scratched Ekirn behind the ears, smoothing the dog’s tangled fur. They ate a little food.

Ten minutes later Ekirn’s ears twitched, and he rose, looking behind Halvis, beginning to growl. Halvis brushed crumbs off his pants, into the sea, and then stood, holding his rifle by the barrel.

Twenty-five men and women stood at the base of the dock, dressed just like everyone else in long coats and heavy boots, carrying rifles. One of them, an older man, handed his weapon to a soldier next to him and walked forward. Halvis dropped his hand onto Ekirn’s head to calm the dog.

The soldier stood next to Halvis, looking over the water. His coat had a patch–a cloaked figure riding a white horse. “What have you done with them, old man?” Halvis waited too long to respond. “Did you set them on fire to punish us? Your clan can’t escape, so you decided not to let anyone else leave this forsaken place? Or have you hidden them, so once we leave, you and the other dogs jump aboard and sail away?”

Halvis shook his head. “Somebody’s had a wonderful joke at our expense,” he said, each word scratching his throat.

“I’m not laughing.” The captain turned to him. “And neither are you.” He started walking back to the other soldiers. “I’m told you’re dangerous. I’m told when my riders and the other clans took yours on, you downed almost a dozen men.” He took his rifle back. “Think you can do it again?”

Halvis didn’t move, slow breaths keeping his heart steady. Ekirn urged to rush ahead in his hand. “You’re wrong,” Halvis said through the pain in his throat. “It was more than a dozen. It was about twenty-five.”

The captain scowled. “You won’t have a chance now.” He raised his hand, and rifles pointed at Halvis. “It’s time we cut this vestigial clan off for good. What’ll it be, old man…are you going down fighting, or will you take what we give you with a smile?”

“You heard about the snakes? They got a few tanks running.” Halvis took a few steps and crouched, so Ekirn stood between him and the rifles. “Apparently you can even trigger the main guns with the touch of a button, from a distance.”

The captain scowled. “So why haven’t you blown us to pieces?”

“Just waiting for you to admit it,” Halvis said, and he thrust his hand into his coat. The rifles rang out, and the bullets struck the water behind him, thrown wild thanks to the item Ekirn carried. Halvis’s rifle sprang up and he took off the captain’s head. He twisted his body and shot another soldier in the gut before they could chamber their next rounds. Twenty-three.

Halvis turned, hand guiding Ekirn, and leaped off the dock into the water as bullets zipped past him. The cold swallowed him up, and the boom of guns shook the water. He kept his rifle out of the water, and when he got his feet under him, he moved around the end of the dock to pick off another soldier. Twenty-two. As he forged underneath the dock, soldiers ran above him. He pointed his rifle through a gap in the boards and fired, taking one of them in the back. Twenty-one. He chambered another round as he went out from under the dock, dragging Ekirn by the vest.

He grabbed the end of the string he had set up in view of at least one of the soldiers on the dock. He grinned and yanked on the string, pulling it free from its mooring.

“Grenade!” a soldier on the dock shouted, leaping into the water. The rest of the soldiers who had given chase followed after him, splashing in one after the other.

Halvis slipped to the next dock over. He swam under it and came out the other side, climbing up just enough to fire again, putting an extra hole in a soldier still standing on the dock. The soldier’s rifle bounced across the boards. Twenty. Ekirn tried to shake himself dry; Halvis already sprinted for the ramshackle building on the corner.

He grabbed five dry rounds and loaded them, dumping the rest into his pockets, listening to the soldiers in the water, wondering why there had been no blast. A few moments later one of them shouted about his useless weapon.

Halvis kicked the door open and fired as a soldier on the dock turning toward the noise, making his profile larger. He took the round in the chest, and then Halvis turned his sights to the next soldier, firing through her rifle and stomach, sending shards of wood and blood into the air in equal amounts. Eighteen.

He snapped his eyes wide and then closed them as he rushed forward. In the mental image he counted fifteen soldiers in the water. Three soldiers turned to bring their guns to bear at him, and he fired blind, whistling for Ekirn. A cry of cold pain shattered the air, and then an animal snarl over a gurgle.

He opened his eyes and took out the last soldier on land. His round passed through the man’s arm and brought him to his knees; Halvis swung his rifle’s stock into his skull.

One of the soldiers in the water tried to haul herself out, and fell back in, the bullet hole in her neck spreading blood through the murky water.

Fourteen. Halvis loaded more rounds, sweeping his rifle across the soldiers in the water. “Nothing here to help us escape. We chased a lie and now you’re dead for it.” He grimaced, and the scar tissue on his throat burned.

One of the soldiers tried to jump for the dock and Halvis shot him. “Thirteen. Almost half of you. I’ve plenty of rounds.”

The soldiers put their hands up. One of them opened his mouth to speak, and Halvis put a round in it. “Twelve. Don’t talk.” He loaded rounds to return to five. Ekirn sat on his haunches at Halvis’s side. “What am I?”

The soldiers glanced at each other, then one of them moved to speak. Halvis killed him, and his body joined the other floaters. “I’m the old man. Long hair, long beard. Can’t talk much.” His Adam’s apple jolted. “That’s not why. I’m young. I’m twenty-five. Why am I the old man?”

None of the soldiers spoke. Halvis killed one anyway. “Ten. I’m the oldest member of my clan.” He tapped the patch on his coat. It showed a hound standing on a rock, and then he scratched behind Ekirn’s ears. “I’m the only member of my clan. We found out about the ships; the other clans decided you would get rid of us.”

He took a few steps forward and fired at another soldier. “Nine. Only we knew the location, so you joined forces and raided us. I survived.” He rubbed his throat and then killed a soldier. “Eight.”

“I’m lucky I caught a glimpse at the map. Too bad the ships aren’t real.” He killed another and reloaded. “I was content to escape to wherever the ships could take me, but I guess that isn’t an option anymore. I can’t go home, and I can’t leave. Hard to live like that.” He fired. “Seven.”

He took a few more steps, standing on the dock. “I guess I’ll be paying a visit to your homes.” He fired again. “Five. Ekirn.”

The dog’s ears sprang up, and he bolted toward the soldier who had hidden under the dock and now tried to climb up. Ekirn stopped an inch away, growling, spittle dripping from his teeth. Halvis killed another soldier still in the water and reloaded. “Five.”

“This old man was hoping to ride the ships away from you, but instead he sends more sailors to join the fleet of the damned.” He shot again, and the round’s casing clattered against the others. “Four. If you think the water is red now, just wait.”

The soldier on the dock, keeping still so Ekirn didn’t attack, glanced to his side. One of his comrades laid in a puddle of his own blood and his rifle laid next to him. He’d have to shoot the dog first. Halvis brought the number to three.

“Be sure to say hello to my family,” Halvis said, and then his ruined throat fell to rest when the number fell to two. He reloaded, letting the single soldier still in the sea shiver and fear, and then sent him away to join the fleet. “One.”

Ekirn waited for a command. The soldier on the dock stood and dove. He reached for the rifle as he fell, bringing it upon the dog, who lunged from ten feet away.

The round bounced away from Ekirn, striking Halvis in the side, breaking a rib and piercing his lung. Ekirn fell on the man, teeth gnashing. The man’s screams turned wet. Air blasted from Halvis’s lungs; he fell backward, rolling toward the end of the dock, and his rifle splashed into the water. He came to rest and tried to breathe, the hole in his side tore open; all the precious sea-tinged fog escaped.

Ekirn came to his side, muzzle dripping with blood and gore, and he had just enough breath to stroke the dog’s fur. Halvis closed his eyes and rubbed the dog’s head on his lap as the gold fog came closer, as the waves grew louder.