The rival wants Madeleine, and I have already told him no. My scar across the collarbone aches with the old fear that my kin will leave me behind if I do not claim a place here. She is how I claim it, and the rival knows it as well as I do.

Madeleine watches me with that wary reserve, yet I see the same need for belonging that I hide behind action. Below deck the storage pit waits with its grain sacks and low signal fire. That is where I take her rough and breed her deep enough that no rival can challenge the lineage. She has not stepped back from any of it. The frost seals everything away soon, and I will not wait for it.