"I'm worried about the young lad," Brooklyn said to Hudson.

"Aye," sighed the Elder, "I thought you might say that."

There was no need to specify which lad they were talking about, even though there were now four such in the clan: one son of Brooklyn and Aslaug, two of Angela and Broadway - and Steelclaw.

"He talks of nothing but revenge," said Brooklyn.

"The Stonehammers killed his mother and his father," Hudson replied, "you cannot blame him if he wants blood for blood."

"The Vikings killed nearly all our clan, and Steelclaw's mother sought revenge too, and we both know very well where it brought her," countered Brooklyn.

"Listen," said Hudson, "if you would take my advice, lad, I'll give it now, because my old bones are telling me I don't have very long left."

"Why are you talking like this?" protested Brooklyn. "Aren't you feeling well, Hudson?"

"I'm as well as I can be now," Hudson said calmly, "but I have a feeling I must prepare - no need to look so distraught, lad, I've lived a long life, and there are now many in the world beyond calling me to join them."

"I can't bear the thought of losing you too," Brooklyn admitted quietly, "so soon after Goliath."

"Don't you worry, lad," Hudson patted his arm reassuringly, "I still have a bit left in me. Not that you really need an old bag of bones like me - you are Leader now, and when Steelclaw is ready, you will have the best Second-in-command you can ever hope for. Sure, he might do some stupid things. All young ones do. But do not try to dissuade him, or to outsmart him. Talk to his heart. You are now the closest thing to a father he has."

... Talking to Steelclaw's heart was easier said than done. With each night that passed, he grew more reserved and silent, and the crease between his brows deepened. But one night, as he and Brooklyn trained together and Steelclaw won two times out of three, he gave his leader a hand, helped him up and said:

"I want you to tell me about my mother."

"Sorry?" Brooklyn blinked.

"You heard me."

"If you want to hear all about your mother," said Brooklyn slowly, playing for time, "you should ask Hudson. He had known her all her life."

"I think you know why I asked you," said the lad, "whenever we talked about her past, you wore the most curious expression, as though you know or understand something the others don't."

"If you mean the mistakes your mother made, it is something known to all."

"It sometimes seems to me almost as though you hated her," said Steelclaw, fixing his leader with a penetrating stare.

"I didn't hate her," Brooklyn shook his head, and in a heartbeat, confessed what he never talked of before. "I loved her."

Steelclaw looked at him, his face, so extraordinarily like his father's, showing an expression of deepest amazement.

"You..."

"Oh, I always knew she belonged to Goliath," said Brooklyn in a gesture of defeat, "she never had an idea... and I found my wife, Aslaug," he added as an afterthought.

"If I loved someone," frowned Steelclaw, "I would make sure she knew it."

"You are too young to speak about love," retorted Brooklyn.

"Maybe," Steelclaw said curtly, and Brooklyn suddenly thought of his eldest daughter, Olrun, who was but a year younger than this lad, and unless he was much mistaken, was eyeing him with special interest lately...

"The Stonehammers must pay for what they did," said Steelclaw.

"They will," promised Brooklyn, "but we mustn't act rashly." He didn't miss the dangerous flash in the lad's eyes, and it alarmed him.

"If becoming a leader instantly makes you speak like you are a hundred years old, I am not sure I ever want to be one," Steelclaw said scathingly.

"With this attitude, perhaps it is better if you never become one," Brooklyn replied calmly.

"I wanted to adhere to the ancient customs of our kind," said the young one, "and have no name. It were the humans who named me Steelclaw, and now I intend to prove," he finished with a mad gleam in his eye, "that this name was not given in vain."

... "But where would you go?" she inquired.

"This I can't tell you," Steelclaw said curtly. She frowned.

"Why mention it at all, then?" she said sulkily.

He looked at her. Olrun was tall and graceful, and there was power in every contour of her young body. Her hair was fair, her skin light green, and her eyes like black velvet under her long eyelashes. He reached for her hand and took it in his.

"I tell you this because I want you to know I'm going with a purpose," he said, "and also that I will return."

For a moment, she was reassured, but then another argument was on her tongue. "We are not meant to be alone. This is not the gargoyle way."

"It is not the gargoyle way to leave the deaths of our brothers and sisters unpunished, either," he retorted, "if this is the way things are done in this clan, I must go and make my own path."

"You won't do it alone," a voice suddenly sounded very close to them, and they jumped in surprise as Korian stepped out of the shadows. "If you would have me with you, I will come along."

Steelclaw grasped his hand in gratitude, but looked furtively at Olrun. He had more words on his mind, words Brooklyn claimed he was too young for, but now that Korian was with him, all he could say before they took off was goodbye.

He didn't mention the part about returning again. He simply hoped she would believe in it firmly enough to make it true.

After he was gone, Olrun stood still for a long time with her eyes closed, as if wanting to imprint his image on her mind. She knew she was dear to him, but not whether as much as he was to her.

They called him Steelclaw, but she had a different name for him: Fireheart, for his passion and quick temper, and now, she knew, this fire was consuming him and driving him towards one single purpose: revenge.

All she could do now was pray that this fire would not destroy him.