Converse County, Wyoming, United States

It was normal for Moffitt to greet all of Troy's horses first whenever he visited. It wasn't normal for him to greet them with so little enthusiasm. The horses all seemed to be aware that something wasn't right. Akutan, Troy's old bay gelding, sniffed Moffitt a few times before nuzzling him. He was among the more empathic of the herd, along with Lana, but Lana was tightly bonded with Troy while Akutan was outgoing and friendly with everyone. It wasn't difficult for him, or any of the other horses, to notice something was deeply wrong.

Moffitt wasn't completely inept when it came to interacting with people, but he wouldn't deny that he enjoyed the company of animals more often, save for his family. He knew he could turn to an animal for simple comfort in a time of stress, whether that be taking a long ride on horseback or calmly treadmilling a snake on a desk in the zoology department. It usually worked. He could clear his head and return to a situation better able to confront it.

There was something different about dealing with Jules's prophecy. Something that a horseback ride or snake-handling wouldn't be able to help fix.

A week ago, life had been peaceful. With Dietrich's prophecy having been resolved for the last six years, Moffitt was grateful that life could be normal—well, as normal as a life with a talking cobra in his house could be. Even if it was completely normal, it was happy. He and Vanora were still madly in love with each other after nearly eighteen years of marriage. Jules was performing well in his academic studies and turning into a fine horseman. There were countless things to discover working in the anthropology department's archives at Cambridge.

Now, he was learning that Jules had been chosen to stop a flock of power-mad magpies from unleashing chaos across Great Britain. The magpies certainly weren't messing around. Several times, they targeted people close to Jules, as well as Jules himself, to harass them physically and make them relive their worst fears and nightmares through dreams. It was bad enough that Moffitt, the rest of the Rat Patrol, and Dietrich had been at the mercy of combat fatigue in the twenty-one years since the end of World War II. To have a flock of supernatural birds forcing them to endure their memories and bad dreams made it that much more difficult.

At least the magpies weren't invincible, and there was a way to stop them. The first step in the plan was to get some practice in with shotguns. Shotguns wouldn't stop the nightmares, but the birds had an ability to paralyze someone just by pecking them. The paralysis wasn't permanent, but would be debilitating in a fight, and it resulted in Dietrich suffering a concussion. Moffitt couldn't remember the last time he handled a shotgun, but Troy was kind enough to let him borrow one. He just had to make his choice. That was why he was there in Wyoming, after all.

Moffitt knew they weren't supposed to be staying long in Wyoming. Tully had gone to Kentucky to make arrangements with a skeet club just outside of where he lived in Ashland, while Hitch had headed home to North Carolina to grab his own shotgun and meet up with the others in Kentucky. Troy took Moffitt and Dietrich to his ranch so they could pick out a shotgun, as neither of them owned one.

He would head to the house in good time. For now, Moffitt wanted a few quiet moments with the horses.

A gentle female voice pulled him from his thoughts. "Are you alright, dear?"

Moffitt turned to see Anah climbing up the fence. She greeted the horses first, then slithered over to Moffitt, crawling onto his left arm and wrapping around his shoulders. "Perfectly fine, Anah," he said.

"I doubt it, not with everything that has occurred."

"I know sitting here isn't going to get anything done, so… why am I here?"

"Because it will not help anyone if you exhaust yourself, and I sense there is much on your mind. A lot of worry, anxiety, and a feeling that you have failed your son." Anah gave him a sympathetic look. "Am I wrong?"

"No, you're not wrong. I really do feel like I've failed. Over the last fourteen years, ever since Dietrich told me about his dream, I had hoped that it wouldn't come true. I even forgot about it for a time. Now, I feel like I should've done more to prepare Jules for this sort of thing."

"What could you—or anyone—possibly do to prepare Jules for something like this when it is impossible to know this sort of thing was coming?"

"We did know this sort of thing was coming. Dietrich's dream said so."

"But you all wanted to dismiss it. Even I was unsure what to make of it at the time."

"We shouldn't have dismissed it."

"You did not know what was going to happen, and, yes, there was a chance that Dietrich's dream was just a dream." Anah was quiet for a moment. "I always pray that some of the dreams I have are just that—dreams."

"Trust me, the one you keep having where you wake up alone in the house and everything has been cleared out is definitely just a dream. I would never do that to you."

"Sometimes I fear I will anger you to that point."

Moffitt shook his head. "You won't. You're family. I wouldn't leave Jules or Vanora alone somewhere just because I'm angry with them. Frankly, I can't even remember the last time I was angry with Vanora."

"I do not think you have ever been truly angry with Vanora. Annoyed, yes. Never angry. You have good communication."

"You tend to help if we ever have an argument, which is quite rare. And with Jules… I've been disappointed, annoyed, but I can't recall off the top of my head if I've ever been angry with him."

"You wanted to strike him when he nearly touched the adder's tail in the yard a few years ago."

"Because that was stupid of him to try to do. I wouldn't call that anger. Would you?"

"It could be considered anger."

"Still. I've never thought about taking one of them to the woods and leaving them there, so I would never do the same with you." Moffitt touched Anah's head. "You have nothing to worry about, silly. You're going to be with me until I pass the pendant on to Jules."

Anah went silent. "When will you do that?"

"Give him the pendant? When he's ready to move out and start his own life. At the very least, not for another four years or so."

"Can I say that I am not ready?"

"Of course you can. I'm not expecting you to be ready now." Moffitt kept gently massaging Anah's head. "If it makes you feel better, I will have a discussion with you and Jules about passing on the pendant in a few years, so we'll come to a decision that'll benefit all of us, alright?"

Anah nodded. "That does help me feel better."

"Good. I don't like seeing you unhappy." Moffitt smirked. "We all like 'happy, mischievous Anah,' not 'sad, broody Anah.'"

"Except when I take my mischief too far."

"Which doesn't happen often, and it's usually because of you and Troy being bad influences on each other."

Now Anah was finally smiling. "It does still surprise me that once upon a time, Troy and I hated each other."

"You two have your moments, like brother and sister."

"Indeed we do." Anah was still smiling, but her sigh was a little sad. "I did come out to check on you for Troy. He is waiting for you in the basement for you to pick out a shotgun."

"Alright." Moffitt looked over at the horses, then turned to head back to the house.

Troy and Dietrich were in the basement, standing by one of Troy's gun safes. Moffitt was always surprised to see how neat and orderly Troy's spaces reserved for firearms were compared to everything else in the house. His office and bedroom were an utter disaster. The side of the basement where he kept everything for his guns was nearly pristine.

"There you are," Troy said as Moffitt came down the stairs. "Everything okay?"

"As good as it's going to get," Moffitt replied.

"I think you'll start feeling better when you learn how to blast magpies outta the sky." Troy opened the safe in front of him. "Dietrich's claimed my Ithaca 37. Everything else is fair game for you."

"Alright. Do you… have any recommendations?"

"You're right-handed, right?"

"You should know the answer to that, Troy."

"I'm just making sure." Troy jerked his thumb in Dietrich's direction. "He can use both hands, which is why he has the Ithaca. The ejection port is on the bottom, so he can switch hands if he needs to."

"Fine. Yes. I'm right-handed."

"Then pretty much anything in here is a good recommendation. Except the old double-barrel and single-shot ones. We're gonna need more than one or two shots in an actual engagement with magpies."

"Reloading all the shells will be, if you pardon my language, a pain in the ass, though," Dietrich said.

"Reload whenever you can. Learned that when I was being trained by the Australians." Troy stepped aside to give Moffitt room. "Go ahead, pick whatever catches your eye. Any choice is a good choice, except for what I told you isn't a good choice."

Dietrich gave him a look. "I am sure he knew that, Troy."

Anah was perched on top of the safe, looking down inside. "What about that one? By your right hand, dear."

"This?" Moffitt pulled out the gun Anah was referring to. He adjusted his grip on it once it was properly in his hands. It was comfortable to hold, and easy for him to get his eye up to the sight.

"That's a Winchester Model 1912," Troy said. "Good choice. Good-looking, excellent reliability. It'll take down magpies easily. I haven't taken this one out in a while, though. First—can I see that?"

Moffitt handed him the shotgun.

"Gotta eject all the buckshot, and load in birdshot."

Moffitt watched Troy eject all six rounds from the gun. Anah telekinetically kept the shells from rolling away when they fell.

"Thank you." Troy took the buckshot rounds from Anah when she held them out to him. He set them on his workbench, then opened a box of birdshot rounds. He paused, and turned to Moffitt. "You want to do the honors?"

"Load it?" Moffitt asked.

"Yeah. Why not?"

Moffitt shrugged before taking the shotgun back and removing some rounds from the box to load into the magazine.

"You're thinking about something, aren't you? You've got that worried look on your face."

Moffitt sighed. "Well, gee, Troy, what do you think I'm bloody worried about?"

"I'm just saying, it looks like you need to talk about whatever's on your mind."

"You know what's on my mind."

"Sometimes venting about things helps."

Dietrich raised his hand. "Speaking from experience."

"I don't even know where to start." Moffitt set the gun on the workbench when he finished loading it. "I feel like I'm wasting time. We should be looking for the guidebook on silver. We should be looking for the silver sword and the sharpening stone, and finding the magpies' castle."

"We will not get very far without an effective strategy to deal with the magpies," Dietrich said. "They will not let us waltz into that castle and let Jules slay the corrupted one, nor are we prepared to deal with them on a daily basis."

"And I just told you that it will not do anyone any good if you exhaust yourself," Anah added. "Having to take some things slowly and more meticulously does not mean they are not getting done."

"You're not wrong for feeling that way, though," Troy said. "We know why. None of us want to see Jules suffer." He lifted his shotgun of choice, a Remington Model 11-48. "Making sure we can protect him and our families is just as important as finding the silver stuff."

"This is amusing coming from you," Dietrich said, giving Troy a curious look. "You usually get very jittery when things are not moving at a fast enough pace for you."

"I'm working on it."

"Oh, poor dear," Anah said. "Is this a sign you are getting older?"

Troy glared at her. "No, and you're one to talk. Two-thousand-year-old cobra."

"Yes, but I have not had any issues with my back, and I lack hips and several other joints that have caused you discomfort over the years."

Dietrich tried to hide a snort of laughter.

"She does have a point, though," Moffitt said.

Troy rolled his eyes. "Throw your back out once and suddenly everyone's throwing 'getting old' remarks at you."

"You've done more than just throwing your back out."

"Hey, your son told me that you've been having back problems, too."

"Oh, hush. I'm sure Dietrich has had issues as well."

Dietrich flushed red with embarrassment.

Troy smirked. "What's that look for, buddy?"

"I, um… I… pinched a nerve when working the garden last summer. I got into a bit of a tussle, trying to pull a radish out."

"And the radish won, I take it?"

"The radish won."

It was hard not to smile at that. Moffitt released his breath, and picked up his shotgun. "Alright. I suppose… we're ready to head to Kentucky and shoot clay pigeons?"

"Yep." Troy set his shotgun down before going to get cases for everyone's weapons. "I'll be up in a minute."

Moffitt headed upstairs first. He found Jules and Antheia sitting together in the kitchen. They seemed to have found something fun to talk about, given that they were both smiling and laughing. Even though they had to get ready to go, Moffitt couldn't bring himself to interrupt. Out of all of us, Jules definitely needs things to smile about. He stepped back, choosing to give his son a little extra time.

Dietrich left the basement next. "I have never shot skeet before," he said. "Troy says it will be easy to get the hang of. I hope he is right."

"Just listen to Tully and the instructors. They know what they're doing," Moffitt said.

Dietrich nodded, then looked in the kitchen. "Is Jules—"

"Let's leave him be until Troy's ready."

Dietrich's voice dropped to a whisper. "Alright."

Troy came out of the basement carrying two gun cases, and a third slung over his shoulder. "You guys ready?"

"Yeah. Jules and Antheia are still in the kitchen," Moffitt said.

Troy hesitated for a moment. He sighed, then set the two gun cases down before going over to the kitchen doorway. "I hate to be this way, you two, but we gotta get going."

"Okay, Dad," Antheia said. She stood, holding Jules's hand.

Moffitt smiled a little seeing Jules and Antheia standing next to each other, given how she was shorter than him by a whole foot.

"They are adorable together," Anah said telepathically.

"They are. They make each other happy, and that's what Jules needs," Moffitt replied. He watched his son and Troy's daughter pick up their bags and head out to the vehicles, all while praying for all of this to be over soon.

Ashland, Kentucky

At least the weather was decent. Dietrich kept telling himself that when he and Troy and Moffitt's families arrived in Kentucky. A couple of wispy clouds would pass by periodically, but nothing that could completely cover the sun. There was no threat of rain to ruin everyone's shooting. The threat of magpies, however, seemed to lurk around each corner, and it was impossible to predict where and when they would next show.

Tully approached the group as they walked out of the parking lot by the skeet club. "Glad to see you made it in one piece. No magpies?"

"Nope," Troy said. He handed Dietrich the case with his Ithaca, and Moffitt his Winchester. "If there was ever a time I wanted the little winged bastards to show, it'd be now."

"Well, some of the guys here thought the idea was funny, but it would take too much time to paint all the targets black and white." Tully shrugged. "Sorry 'bout that, Sarge."

"Nah, it's fine. This'll be fun regardless."

Tully led them out onto the range, where Hitch was waiting with his gun of choice, a Mossberg 500. The kids would be spectating, and Anah decided to stay with Jules and out of Moffitt's way so he could focus, though she wished luck to all five men.

Tully's shotgun was a bit unusual, being a lever-action. He stood in front of the group with his gun held ready and finger off the trigger. "I don't have to explain certain things to you. The kids and Anah know to stay quiet while we're shooting, but I don't have to go over basic range etiquette and all that with you, right?"

Troy glanced at the others. "Nope."

Dietrich couldn't help himself. "Oh, so Troy does know a form of etiquette?"

That earned him a very sour look from Troy.

Moffitt rolled his eyes.

"Anyway," Tully said, ignoring them. "How many of you have actually gone skeet-shooting before?"

Troy and Hitch raised their hands. Moffitt half-raised his, looking uncertain. Dietrich kept his hand down.

"Okay. I'll try to keep it simple. There are eight stations. I was told we should pay extra attention to stations one, seven, and eight—especially eight—but we'll be doing all of them to be prepared for everything. The targets will be launched from two houses, one high, one low. On stations one, two, six, and seven, there'll be doubles after both single shots, which means a high and low target will be launched simultaneously." Tully looked at Dietrich. "You've never actually used a shotgun before, right?"

"I have not," Dietrich replied.

"Alright. Some things to keep in mind. With a shotgun, you don't aim. You point, okay? Birds will keep moving, and they move pretty fast. You think about your target too much, you won't get a chance to actually hit it, and with the magpies, that gives them a chance to attack you. Other thing to keep in mind is to lead, and keep the barrel moving. Even after you've taken your shot, follow through, just like if you were playing tennis. Got it?"

Dietrich nodded.

"Okay. Don't be afraid to ask questions. We all started somewhere. Another thing, even if the opportunity is right in front of you, do not shoot straight up." Tully glanced at Troy. "Sarge."

"What?" Troy said.

"I know you'd try that if the chance presents itself, so I'm just saying, don't do it. We want to minimize accidents here." Tully turned his attention back to everyone else. "We'll be doing this as a group. At each station, we'll go in the same order. It'll go me, Hitch, Sarge, Moffitt, Dietrich. If you miss a shot, you can repeat the shot, but only once. You get twenty-five shots total. Twenty-four for a full round, and one extra. Once you're done, we move on together to the next station. Any questions?" He focused his gaze on Moffitt and Dietrich. When no one said anything, he said, "Alright, then, we'll get started."

Dietrich didn't think any of this sounded hard. He glanced over a couple of times at where Jules, Antheia, and Anah were watching. He had come to see Jules as a nephew of sorts over the years. Dietrich would have tried to do his best even if this was something he and the others were doing for their own entertainment. Now, he felt like he couldn't afford to do poorly, and he knew Moffitt felt the same way.

Tully tested the windspeed and direction once everyone had put eye and ear protection on. Dietrich watched the first clay target launch from the high house behind them, and observed Tully leading it with the barrel of his gun. It seemed not even a second passed before Tully fired and the target burst into shards. The target from the low house met the same fate, as did the two launched at the same time.

"Not bad," Tully said quietly to himself. "Alright, Hitch, you're up."

Both Hitch and Troy hit all of their targets with no issue. Moffitt hissed out a, "Blast," when he missed his first high target.

"It's okay. You'll get another chance," Tully said.

"Not in a real situation!"

"Moffitt," Tully's voice was firm but gentle, "Take it easy. That's why we're practicing, so we're ready for the real thing. Here, you have another chance. Go ahead. Try again. Just remember that if you take this shot, you won't be able to do it with every other miss, so think about it."

Moffitt let out a frustrated sigh before pumping his Winchester and putting the shotgun's stock back against his right shoulder. Another clay pigeon was called. Moffitt kept his barrel slightly ahead of it. He stopped breathing before squeezing the trigger, and exhaled a sigh of relief when the pigeon shattered.

He is thinking a little too hard about this, Dietrich thought. He watched Moffitt have a little more success with the low house and the doubles, but then felt a nervous twinge in his gut when he heard Tully say, "Dietrich, you're up."

Dietrich brought his Ithaca to his shoulder, whispering a prayer in German. By now, he had a pretty good idea about the trajectory of both targets. As he opened his mouth to call for the first clay pigeon, movement caught his attention. His eye looked away from the Ithaca's sights, and toward the clear sky above.

A pair of ravens was circling above the range. They broke the circle almost as soon as Dietrich's attention was on them, then turned to fly over the group, disappearing as quickly as they came. Dietrich looked back down the sights of the Ithaca. He relaxed and called for the first target. He recited Tully's instructions in his head, and took his shot. The clay pigeon was blown apart.

"Nice," Tully said.

I may have had some help there. Dietrich glanced in the direction the ravens vanished from. I appreciate it, but I would like to do this myself. He immediately swallowed his pride. If I am getting help, there is a reason for it.

The low house and doubles were no different. Whether it was help from above or beginner's luck, Dietrich was still impressed. He just didn't want to get overconfident.

As they moved through the stations, Tully pointed out that some of them were generally considered easier for southpaws. Dietrich didn't see the harm in switching hands for those stations, and brought the Ithaca up to his left shoulder for a change.

"How exactly can you do that?" Troy asked. "I could never use my left hand for shooting."

"Well, to keep a long story short, I was born left-handed, and forced to become right-handed," Dietrich replied.

"If you're not being forced to use your right hand anymore, why do you?"

"I got used to it, I suppose. My aunt convinced me that learning to become proficient with both hands would be useful." Dietrich gave Troy a knowing grin. "Why do you think I looked so comfortable pointing my Walther at you in the cave you were trying to blow up? You remember that, do you not? When you knocked crates on top of me and tore my trousers in the process?"

"I don't think I even noticed back then."

"Your aunt is right, though," Tully said. "There're benefits to learning to use both hands, but it's not easy for everyone."

"Interestingly, Anah could be considered left-handed, if she had hands," Moffitt said. "I think it's mostly because she spent most of the war on my left shoulder, but I've noticed when she uses her tail to hold utensils in cooking, she holds them to the left."

"Wouldn't that make her left-tailed, though?" Troy asked.

"She's only got one tail, so that doesn't make any sense."

"But, she holds her tail to the left when she's cooking—"

"Troy, we do not need to be bombarded by your twisted logic today. Please stop talking," Dietrich groaned.

Conversation stopped when the group came to station eight, the one they all needed to focus on. They were right between the high and low houses. Speed and constant movement would be key to hitting both clay targets before they flew out of range.

Tully, Hitch, and Troy hit both without issue. Moffitt hit the high target but missed the low one. Dietrich was certain he would miss one or both, but did the opposite of Moffitt—missed the high and hit the low.

"You all did pretty good," Tully said. "If this was a competition, Sarge would've won. Hitch and I would be tied for second. Dietrich, you especially did good, considering this's your first time. Moffitt, you came in last, but you didn't do too bad, either."

"I could've done better," Moffitt said.

"There's always room for improvement. Don't beat yourself up about it."

"I certainly want to do this again," Troy said.

"Right now?"

"If that's an option."

"We should ask the children if they need anything first," Dietrich said.

Moffitt nodded in agreement. He and Dietrich walked over to where Jules, Antheia, and Anah had been watching. Antheia had a big smile on her face. "I'm looking forward to the day I can do skeet-shooting," she said.

"It is fun." Dietrich massaged his right shoulder. "Shotguns certainly have a kick, though."

"Troy wants to do another round," Moffitt said, looking at Jules. "We came to see if you needed anything."

"They can always ask me," Anah said. "I can drive."

"Yes, but does Troy want you driving his truck? After all, you did steal it once."

"That was eighteen years ago and a different truck. I have not stolen this one." Anah grinned. "Yet."

Moffitt gave her a look. "Well, don't."

"Change of plans," Tully said as he, Troy, and Hitch walked over. "Sarge got outvoted. Let's do lunch, and then we'll come back for another round."

Clay pigeons weren't exactly the same, but it was still satisfying for Troy to blow them out of the sky. He treated them with the same regard as he would a magpie, and hadn't missed any of his shots. Even with the occasional banter with his teammates and Dietrich, Troy took that round seriously. He was more than willing to skip lunch in order to keep practicing, and if he hadn't brought Antheia, he would have insisted on staying on his own while everyone else went to eat.

It hadn't been easy suppressing his anger at the magpies for going after his daughter when they were in England looking for one of the first clues to Jules's prophecy. Even though Antheia hadn't been hurt, and was saved by Jules's horse of all things, it was yet another line that the magpies had crossed.

When is this going to end? Troy thought as they headed to the parking lot before driving to Tully's home for lunch. Dietrich's prophecy hadn't been enough. Now Jules is destined to stop a bunch of crazy magpies. At least nothing had been coming after everyone with Dietrich's prophecy. The only threat to everything had been Dietrich's depression.

"If it is possible for me to buy this from you, may I?" Dietrich's voice pulled Troy from his thoughts. He was holding up the Ithaca 37 he had borrowed.

"No, get your own," Troy said. "That one's mine."

Dietrich made a mock pouting face. "Fine. I enjoyed using it."

A little nagging voice in Troy's head, which sounded suspiciously like Shauna, started telling him that he had plenty of guns and maybe it would be nice to let Dietrich have the Ithaca. Troy sighed before saying, "Maybe—just maybe—Santa Claus will leave a little something special for you under the tree this Christmas."

"Are you saying Santa might rob you of your Ithaca?"

"He'd have to get past me first."

"True. Anyone who tries to rob you is probably more insane than you are."

"I… actually agree with you on that. Anyway, no, maybe Santa will get you a brand-new one." Troy couldn't deny that sometimes guns were like horses—once someone got attached to a specific individual, it was hard to let go. "Or maybe he'll convince me to give you that one."

"Given that everyone knows that you play Santa Claus in this family, I imagine that will consist of you talking to yourself."

Troy gave him a look. "Haven't you been caught talking to yourself?"

"Sometimes, I do my best thinking that way."

"So, if you talk to yourself, it's genius, but if I talk to myself, I'm a loon. How does that make any sense?"

"Do you want me to answer that?"

"Not really."

"Smart choice." Dietrich set the shotgun in its case. "Truthfully, if you are unable to part with this Ithaca, that is alright with me. It was fun to use."

"Look, I already have to put up with the idea that Antheia might want some of my guns in the future, so maybe selling this one to you will be good practice."

"Oh, come now, Troy, you love your daughter too much to resist giving her some of your guns."

Troy glared at him. "You… Quit reading my mind."

Clouds had begun encroaching on the clarity of the sky when they parked in Tully's driveway. Troy noticed Moffitt looking a bit distant while getting out of the truck, and gently took him aside to talk. "Upset about your score?"

Moffitt hesitated for a moment. "I couldn't care less about the score itself, but it showed that I performed extremely poorly, and I-I can't afford to do that." He shook his head and sighed. "Not when Jules depends on us to be able to fend the bloody birds off."

"This was only your first round. Tully said you did good. You didn't miss every shot. Don't let this eat at you."

"I'll try. At any other point in time, this would've been fun. Now… we're basically training for war again, except it's personal. Very personal." Moffitt fell silent again. "It's strange, really. Back during the war, I wasn't sure I would ever have children, but was this… was this always meant to happen?"

Troy shrugged. "You're asking the wrong person." He cursed in his head, feeling that wasn't very helpful. "To be fair, though, I once had a dream, many, many years ago where a jackal came across an orphaned gazelle. Back then, I didn't think much of it, and there wasn't much to it. I remember the jackal approaching the gazelle, but then the dream ended. I brought it up with Shauna not too long after Antheia's adoption was finalized, and she said there's definitely a possibility that dream meant something."

"Did you have that dream before you and Shauna tried having kids of your own?"

"Yeah."

"Would you have kept trying if you suspected that dream meant something?"

"Yeah, because there's always the chance a dream doesn't mean a damn thing." Troy's tone turned more serious. "Would you have decided to never have kids if you knew about this prophecy?"

"The prophecy would still be carried out one way or another, and, no, I would still have decided to have children, even if I knew about it. I wouldn't trade Jules for the world."

"He can do this. Everyone has faith in him."

Moffitt nodded a little. "I just hope I can adequately prepare him."

Author's Note: Special thanks goes out to k8tk8lv for explaining skeet-shooting to me.