Prince Owen had dedicated the past few days to writing poetry for the Lady Claire. He wasn't very good at it, as his rhymes were forced to an unbelievable degree. Still, he kept at it, crossing out line after line as he struggled to express his feelings in ink. More often than not, he'd end up grabbing his hair in clumps, frustrated with the impotence of his brain. He carried his papers to Lady Claire's chamber one day, quite unintentionally, and it was lucky he did, because he just happened to bump into her on his way up the stairs. Perhaps he had subconsciously wanted to run into her.

"Hello."

She did not reply, and although her eyes were gentle, Prince Owen felt as though he were under attack. He gulped nervously, and handed her his most coherent poem.

"I wrote this for you," he stammered.

She read it over, and smiled very faintly.

"Thank you."

There was an awkward pause. Prince Owen decided to depart before inevitably screwing things up, but when he backed away, his antlers hit the doorframe. He rubbed his head, and Claire laughed.

"Well, at least I made you giggle . . ."

She reached up and ran her hand along the white branches that protruded from his head. He let her, secretly pleased that she wasn't forcing him to leave.

"Why do you have these, anyway?" she asked.

He shrugged.

"Dunno. Why do you have wings?"

She looked over her shoulder and twisted her mouth.

"I don't know."

"I guess we both have mysteries to solve."

"I suppose we do."

Prince Owen was about to point out the similarities between their unexplained appendages (that being that they were white with a strange, luminous quality), but Claire lifted her head slightly and gave him a worried frown.

"I've been having nightmares."

"I'm sorry. About what?"

"Monsters. Cages. A carnival. A woman who escaped. I hope she's alright."

"Who?"

"I don't know."

Owen smiled and put his hand on her arm.

"Well, if it was just a dream, you don't need to worry about her, do you?"

Claire gave an uncertain hum. Owen's casual smile faded away, and he reached for her hand as quickly as she would allow. When their palms pressed together, he moved closer.

"If I knew how to make your nightmares go away, I would jump at the chance. There must be a trick to it. I don't know if it's like hiccups, where you have to punch the person's arm . . . Not that I'd punch you, of course."

"I know," she laughed.

After that, they got to talking. They chatted for an hour or so, but it felt like half the time to Claire. She was drawn to Owen, so much so that her other quest was all but forgotten. For once, she didn't care.

She was in love.

***TLS***

Shivering in the night, Monsanto leaned in towards the wood that smoked beneath Penumbra's stick, willing it to catch fire. She rubbed the pole back and forth between her hands, but it was not looking promising. Although there were gentle, grey plumes rising from the hole she was drilling, there hadn't been a trace of light.

"Do you want me to try?" he offered.

"You know how to make fire?"

"No. But I can copy what you're doing."

"Don't bother. Let me do it so we don't waste each other's time."

Her brow was wrinkled with concentration. Monsanto noticed that her palms were looking raw, and he was about to comment on this fact, but the lichen began to glow, and she blew on it gently. The first attempt failed, but a few minutes later, a weak flame emerged from the dimple on the log's surface. Exhausted, Penumbra leaned back, but not far enough to escape the fire's warmth.

"That was impressive," Monsanto remarked.

"Not really. I used to be better at it. I had to learn when I was living alone. I've become accustomed to a relatively comfortable lifestyle. It's softened me."

He held his hands over the fire, which was growing.

"You'll have to show me how to do this. I thought I was pretty independent, but for the life of me, I wouldn't last a day in the woods under normal circumstances."

He realized that his comment had not been acknowledged. Penumbra was staring at her tender palms. She was blistering beneath her fingers, he noticed. Monsanto scooted closer and reached for her hands, but she snatched them away protectively.

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. It's not like you can do anything, anyway."

He nodded.

"You're probably right."

There was an awkward pause. Reluctantly, Monsanto took a deep breath.

"How are we going to do it?"

"Do what?"

". . . Kill her."

Penumbra inhaled, then exhaled. It was not a calm breath.

"I don't know. Last time, I planned everything out, yet I still managed to fail. I hope to catch her off guard when we meet again. Her memory isn't intact."

Monsanto stared at the fire to avoid making eye contact.

"Are you sure she has to die?"

Penumbra's face hardened.

"You said you were with me on this."

"I am, but I just wonder if there's another way. I don't want to kill again."

"If you knew what she did to me, you wouldn't hesitate."

"Can you tell me, then?"

Penumbra was suddenly aware of the sounds outside of their grove. A large tree was sheltering them from the rest of the forest, but she could hear the creatures of the night calling to each other. She wondered if anyone was listening.

"I . . . I lost my mother."

Monsanto said nothing, so she continued.

"Claire wasn't around then, but I knew she was coming, so I . . . I made a deal with someone. He said that I would live to witness the salvation of my people. Instead, Claire chose to deceive them, and in doing so, led them to their doom."

Monsanto started wringing his hands.

"Does that mean there are no stegoceratopses left in the world?"

Penumbra closed her eyes.

"They're all gone."

Monsanto put his head in his hands, clenching his teeth in agony.

"After all that, they still couldn't be saved . . ."

"What?"

He threw his hands to the ground.

"The incident with Claire wasn't the first time the stegoceratops race was in jeopardy. A long time ago, there were camps-"

"I know. I was in one."

Monsanto turned to face her suddenly, shocked by this news.

"You . . . Why didn't you say something?"

"I thought I had. Or maybe not. People tell me I'm vague."

He ran his fingers through his hair.

"Oh god . . . Oh god . . . I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. I'm not a fan of pity."

"It's not- Well- I'm just surprised that you were . . . there. I wasn't expecting . . . I . . . You caught me off guard."

She spoke sharply.

"I'll try to be clearer from now on. I thought I had given you enough information, but I guess I still managed to mislead you. For that, I apologize. I don't like to discuss these matters in great detail."

"I understand."

After a pause, he decided to continue his thought.

"I'm sorry."

"I told you not to pity me."

"I'm not pitying you. I'm apologizing."

"You don't have to do that. It's my own fault for being so nebulous."

"No, I mean . . . Look, I'm apologizing for the whole thing."

"It's not your fault."

"I . . . I don't know. It might be. I mean, I'm a human, and you're a stegoceratops-"

"That's not enough to merit hatred between us."

"Right. And this woman of yours-"

Penumbra's eyes gave off more sparks than the fire.

"If you're going to doubt the legitimacy of my quest-"

"I'm not! I'm just trying to ask questions!" he insisted, "You've told me very little, and the gaps lead me to believe that there's something more to your story."

Penumbra was still. Even so, Monsanto could feel movement within her. He considered himself a strong person, but the look she gave him made him feel as small as a mouse.

"You want to know my story? Everyone I knew and loved died at the hands of a dictator. They were slaughtered like animals. I grew up in isolation, knowing that if I set foot in a human village, I'd be killed . . . or worse. The only thing that kept me going was the hope that the legendary Stegoceratops Queen would restore the dignity of my species, so that we could live without fear of persecution. This woman turned out not only to be a liar, but a human as well. She told my people that she had a plan to save them all, and when she was finally able to admit that she was a fraud, it was too late. She knew the location of the only place on Earth where the stegoceratops could live in secret, and for this reason, they were forced to find a new sanctuary. They never made it that far. Every last one of them was murdered, all because this queen gave them false hope. She put her own needs before the needs of hundreds of my kind, and now, they're all gone. That's not all. I confronted her many years ago, and she had the nerve to lie again. She claimed that we were the same, that she was a stegoceratops just like me. She is not one of my kind: she is an imposter. I was the last stegoceratops, not her. And . . . And . . . She is, without a doubt, the reason my species is gone forever, because she was the one who murdered me."

Monsanto did not reply. He looked into the fire, then held his hand over the crackling flames. His skin blackened on contact, but he did not wince. He pulled away slowly, then rubbed the soot between his fingers. He then lay down on his side and spoke quietly.

"I know it may appear that I've gone back and forth on the issue, but I really do want to help you. The only reservation I had was with regards to the legitimacy of your revenge. I have no doubt that this woman deserves punishment of some kind, but something about your situation rubbed me the wrong way. Now I know what it is. It's you. You've survived something terrible, and these events have shaped you into something you wouldn't have otherwise been. You've been robbed of your innocence, among other things. I realize now that you're not just prickly: your actions are not your own, and your thirst for blood stems from something beyond your control. That's what hurt me the most about your story. You had your goodness taken away from you. I know what I must do to make things right. When we started this quest, I believed my purpose was to talk you out of murder. Then, I realized that you would have to find your own path. Finally, I discovered that I had a moral obligation to assist you, but the first two epiphanies remained in the back of my mind, contradicting my most recent conclusion. I now understand that I must do all three things in order to help you."

"How?"

He looked up at her, fire streaking across his eyes.

"I'm going to kill Claire myself."