Moffitt sat on the edge of his bed with Anah around his shoulders, patiently waiting for Troy to come back. He hated seeing just how much of a toll this trip had taken on Troy, and it made him feel worse for getting angry with Troy when they learned about Vissarion's vision. He gave a sigh, glancing at Anah. "I should've been trying to help Troy from the beginning, not… not lecturing him about just accepting this."

"No one can blame you for getting upset," Anah said. "Besides, at least Troy has accepted this now—mostly."

"It's just rough seeing how much this is effecting him."

"I know. He will sleep well when this is over."

"I hope so. I also hope this battle with the strix isn't going to cost any lives."

Anah nodded in agreement. "You both have had problems when it comes to accepting things you do not have control of. Look at how long it took you to finally start moving on from Michael's death."

Moffitt agreed with Anah on that, but didn't have time to continue that conversation. He and Anah both turned their heads when the door opened, and Troy peered inside.

"Hey. We're ready to go to Karolos's," Troy said. "I didn't make you wait too long, did I?"

"No, and we didn't want you to rush your talk," Moffitt replied as he stood.

"Thanks. Alekos and I haven't really had a chance to catch up in a long time, so… it's been nice."

They left the hotel and got into Vasilakis's waiting car in the street. Moffitt tried to think of other things to talk about, things that weren't related to what was coming on the full moon or Troy's difficulties in accepting his abilities. The car was brought to a halt at a traffic light, quite close to a small café. The smell of coffee and both sweet and savory baked goods was strong, as to be expected at that hour. Moffitt's stomach rumbled when he caught the scent of pumpkin and frying oil, a rather unique combination that he never really thought of before. He ignored the fact that Anah was staring at him with her "lecture face" and turned his attention to Troy and Vasilakis in the front seats. They had taken to conversing in Greek, with Troy having smelled the pumpkin as well and was telling Vasilakis about how his grandmother came to love cooking with it after moving to Wyoming. Moffitt expected the conversation to turn sad at some point. Instead, though Troy's tone possessed a sense of longing for a time that would never return, he seemed a bit happier.

Moffitt hoped the day would come when Troy wouldn't feel so burdened with grief anymore, and it prompted him to think about just how long it had taken him to overcome the loss of his brother. Michael's death and Troy's grandparents' deaths were both laden with subsequent events that made grieving difficult, or impossible. Troy hadn't really done anything wrong when his grandparents died, but Moffitt knew that Troy sometimes wondered if his immediate dismissal of what his father wanted had been the mistake that would cost him everything. Everyone told Troy it wasn't his fault things went so horribly wrong, but Troy had refused to believe that.

When they arrived at Andridis's farm, Moffitt knew Anah was going to have a fit if he didn't have breakfast and went right to talking with Troy, so he followed the others inside. He was eager to discuss his thoughts with Troy, but if there was one thing he had learned over the last several days, it was that the Greeks loved to talk over their meals. It was funny to think that during the war, Troy was never one to linger over his food. In Greece, he was a different story. Moffitt found it to be a welcome difference, especially since Troy was now so comfortable around his cousins and eager to chat on with them. When it seemed they were simply going to talk until lunch was served, Moffitt tapped Troy's shoulder and whispered that he wanted to talk in private.

The two went outside, going out to the farthest fence corner like they had for previous conversations. Moffitt really didn't want to dampen Troy's mood, but he wondered if his thoughts would make a difference in how Troy felt. He just hoped it would be for the better.

"Alright, what's going on?" Troy asked. "You've got that look on your face that you always have when you're thinking hard about something."

Moffitt bit his lip. "I… um… I was thinking on our drive here that… that perhaps we should talk about what happened when your father first brought up you going to university."

Troy's expression soured. "Why?"

"Look, I didn't want to bring it up because I knew it was going to be upsetting, but I feel this is important, and maybe it'll bring us one step closer to helping you overcome all of this. You… You don't believe it when anyone tells you that it wasn't your fault that your relationship with your parents went rotten."

"No, I don't."

"Because you dismissed your father without giving him a chance."

"Pretty much. I won't deny that."

"Has anyone made the connection between that and how you respond to discussion about your jackal abilities?"

Moffitt wasn't sure what to expect from Troy. For several long moments, Troy leaned against the fence, deep in thought. Moffitt was glad they were outside, so they weren't in complete silence. Eventually, Troy sighed heavily. "No. No one's ever brought this up before. I wouldn't be surprised if… they've thought about it but never said anything because they were afraid of how I'd react."

"I didn't really put the pieces together until this morning, thinking about how we've been through similar experiences with grief. We've both experienced deaths of loved ones that were riddled with problems that have made it hard to truly move on. With me, it was the fact that I murdered two people in response. With you, it was the fact that you ended up nearly losing everything."

"I don't think grief is the problem with me. My grandparents died of old age. There's nothing you can do about that. I miss them, yes, but it wasn't like Michael where he was killed long before his time. I wasn't expecting my father to take me and David aside right after—right after—my grandmother's funeral and tell us that going to college would be the best way to honor their memories."

"I think, in some ways, grief is part of the problem. Your father dumped that on you before you were ready—"

"And just like you killing those two Germans, my reaction wasn't right."

"No. I'm not saying it was. What I'm trying to say is that just like me, you need to accept what happened. You can't reverse the damage—"

"Unlike you, I could have."

"Not when your father died."

"I didn't know that was going to happen. I could have tried."

"This is exactly what I'm talking about. We can't turn back time. We can't fix what we did. We can't run away from it. Either we accept it and move on, or we keep letting it rip us up inside. It took me a long time to forgive myself, because I was so afraid of looking like I felt what I did to those two soldiers was right. What are you afraid of?"

Troy looked like he wanted to speak, but refused.

"Are you afraid of making it seem like your father had been right? Are you afraid that it'll mean you did destroy your grandparents' legacy? Are you afraid that it'll mean you deserved all the horrid letters your mother and the rest of your family sent to you?"

Troy was quiet for nearly five whole minutes. Moffitt had never seen him look so defeated, so drained, or so… broken before. He moved when Troy stepped away from the fence, but stopped when he saw Troy was only pacing, his arms folded over his chest.

The silence lasted another minute or two, then Troy said, quietly, "Yes. I told Kavi yesterday that I was resisting this for so long because I was afraid of becoming an outcast, afraid of losing control, and afraid of losing sight of who I am. He said how my father treated me was unacceptable. I don't know if I believe that."

"Everyone's told me that my anger at Michael's death was understandable. Now, I believe them. Over a year ago, I wouldn't have. It's possible to feel that you were wronged, while also understanding that what you did in return was wrong as well. You and your father both made mistakes. Neither of you were right in your behavior. He shouldn't have been trying to force university on you, and you shouldn't have pushed him away. You were both grieving at the time. You were both in poor states of mind. Now, you can't fix it, because he's gone and the only person left is your bitter mother. I can't raise those two Germans from the dead." A choking sensation of tears rose in Moffitt's throat. "I can't make them come back from the other side of the river. No matter how much I wish I could, I can't. Have I thought about finding their families and facing them? Yes. It's something I want to do before my own time comes, but I am not ready yet. It's the closest I'll ever get to apologizing, so I will have to be content with it."

"Are you saying reconciling with my mother is the only way to get over this?"

"No, but… it might help. If she even wants to reconcile. Still, even if she doesn't—again—at least you're expressing it."

"I don't even know if she's still alive. It's going to be like my dad. I'm… not going to get the chance."

"Then take that chance if she's still alive. Don't make the same mistake."

"I will when I'm ready."

"When will you be ready, Troy? You've been putting this off for years already."

"I don't know."

Moffitt had expected Troy to get angry, but instead, he still looked drained. "Let's talk about this when the full moon passes," Moffitt said.

"Sounds fair."

"Are you—"

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not."

Troy turned to glare at him.

Moffitt stood firm. "I don't know what else to say other than I'm sorry that this trip hasn't gone the way you wanted."

Troy maintained his glare for a moment, then his blue gaze began to soften. He was beginning to look as though he wanted to cry. "It's not your fault. But, this is what you, and Dietrich, and Anah, and Markus, and Tully, a-and everyone else wanted, right? Right? To force me to look at all the crap that's happened? To make me face it because my lazy, stubborn ass doesn't want to."

"You're not lazy—"

"Am I?! Who's wrong, who's right, I don't care anymore!" Troy snapped, eyes practically glowing with blue fury. "Why do you care?! Why do you people feel the need to drag me in front of my problems and slam my head into them?! Why can't you just leave well enough alone and mind your own business?!"

"For the same reason we wouldn't leave Dietrich alone after he tried to kill himself!" Moffitt shouted back. "What you're doing is not healthy! Either you're going to face this, or you're just going to keep letting it claw away at you until you start going down the same road he did!"

Once again, Moffitt expected Troy to become angrier. After all, that defeated and broken expression had left, but it came back quite forcefully. It was tinged with anger and frustration, but Troy seemed out of energy, and there something in his eyes that said he deeply regretted yelling at a man he considered a close friend. Moffitt knew Troy just wanted to put everything behind him. Leave the past in the past. That couldn't be done if it kept coming back in various ways to haunt him. He just wanted it to stop and leave him alone. Moffitt understood that all too well. Many of his own mistakes and regrets were still hanging around, but he was dealing with them as best he could, without running away. There was only so much Troy could run before he collapsed. When no more words were said between them, Moffitt gave an apologetic sigh before gently squeezing Troy's shoulder.

They tried to focus on other things for the rest of the day, having Troy's cousins and Vasilakis around certainly helped. Vasilakis especially, as his talk with Troy earlier had given him the motivation to talk on and on about their missions together in North Africa. He was also quite eager to hear about Moffitt's time in the desert war, serving with the Scots Greys, and Moffitt was more than happy to oblige. After all, it gave him a chance to talk about his old friend and mount, Snowstripe. The big Arabian horse, named for the brilliant white stripe down the center of his face, had been gone for about three years, and Moffitt still missed him terribly. It was nice to share his stories, though.

Moffitt's thoughts returned to the present when he, Anah, and Troy returned to their hotel room later that night. He expected that Troy wasn't going to get much sleep. Time was ticking to the full moon, and there wasn't anything anyone could do to stop it. Moffitt noticed that whatever training Troy was undergoing with Kavi was clearly exhausting, as almost as soon as Troy got out of the shower, he was lying in bed and trying to sleep. Moffitt didn't want to disrupt Troy's sleep, so he turned the lamp off in between their beds, and lay down with Anah curled up by his head.

His dreams that night felt strange and hazy. Moffitt saw himself standing in a narrow valley, between two mountains. He shuddered as he felt vibrations beneath his boots. They were small at first, indetectable by regular people, but animals and those who possessed animals within their spirits would be greatly agitated by them. He looked up when a bit of snow tumbled down from one of the mountains. His instincts screamed at him to run as the vibrations escalated to much harder shaking. The skies were clear, but there was a sound akin to rolling thunder. Great gusts of snow flew into the air as huge slabs and piles of it came crashing down. Moffitt turned to run. A cold sensation was at his back, and the dream came to an abrupt halt when the snow plowed over him.

Moffitt opened his eyes, finding he was back in bed and staring up at the ceiling. He took a moment to return to reality, then looked over at Troy. For a moment, he expected to see Troy out on the balcony having a cigarette, but instead, Troy was sound asleep. Moffitt shifted onto his side in an effort to get comfortable and try to fall asleep again. His mind turned to one of his discussions with Troy a couple of nights ago about how the battle with the strix could play out. Troy had mentioned going into the mountains to keep the birds away from people. An avalanche occurring certainly wouldn't be ideal, but Moffitt doubted that was something anyone had a say in.

Troy was dimly aware of the feeling of something warm and smooth laying against his head. He could feel the gentle movement of breathing, then something long crawling around his head, over his shoulder, and stopping on his chest. It tapped his nose, and he heard Anah's voice saying, "Good morning, sleepyhead."

"What do you want?" Troy grunted.

"Nothing. Just making sure you are up."

Troy blinked, and saw the cobra was right in his face. "Okay, seriously, Anah? Why?" He turned to face Moffitt's bed, only to find the lanky Englishman was gone. "Where's Moffitt?"

"Bathroom. He took a book in with him."

"Oh, for the love of…" Troy sighed. "So, you're bored."

"More cold than anything."

"You don't feel cold."

"What is reasonably warm to you is not always enough for me."

"Fine. Stay here, then."

Anah curled up on Troy's chest, resting her head on her own coils and continuing to stare at him. When several minutes of silence passed, Anah tilted her head a little and asked, "Everything alright, dear?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"It has not exactly gone unnoticed that you are not sleeping well."

"Gee, I wonder why."

"To be honest, dear, I cannot tell if this is your normal behavior, or if you are choosing to be sarcastic as a means of defense."

Troy rubbed his face. "Too early for this, Anah."

"I am serious. You were quite rude to Moffitt yesterday."

"He told you everything, did he?"

"Yes, he did."

Troy didn't exactly want to think about the day before. He knew Moffitt was right, but he was also tired of everything seeming to revolve around his problems. Despite having gone to train with Kavi last afternoon, Troy said nothing to the vulture about it. He wanted to let go of everything, but couldn't figure out how.

He remembered Moffitt talking about how Dietrich had helped him start processing Michael's death with another hypnosis session, using an analogy of an old attic full of locked trunks. The trunks contained memories that Moffitt had both consciously and unconsciously suppressed. How that truly worked, Troy would never know, and even Dietrich said he wasn't quite sure either. Regardless, it did, and Troy imagined Moffitt was terrified to face all of that, as his journey with grief had oftentimes seemed like an uphill climb on a sheer-faced cliff. Troy wondered if he needed to ask Dietrich for help when they returned home. This wouldn't be the first time he considered it, but he never went through with it because he didn't want to experience certain memories as if they were actually happening again. His nightmares and daytime flashbacks already did that on their own schedules.

He began seriously considering talking to Dietrich. It really did seem ridiculous that he didn't work up the courage beforehand. He knew Dietrich wasn't going to think less of him. I can do it, Troy thought.

There were other things to do first. Things that required more immediate attention.

Over the next few days, Troy, his cousins, Moffitt, Vasilakis, Kavi, and Anah put together a battle plan for the full moon. As much as the men, Kavi, and Anah didn't want to put the horses in danger, it was agreed that taking the conflict to the mountains on horseback would be best. The strix could fly fast, but there was a better chance of escaping them with the horses.

Lavrentis confessed that he wanted to be involved, but didn't argue when he was told that he didn't have the experience for such a battle. Instead, he was going to be the first line of defense for his father's farm if the strix found a way there. Andridis and Troy spent time with him teaching him how to shoot, and Troy admired his young cousin's skill with a rifle.

It was obvious that they would all be staying up late. Very late. The Greeks, while no strangers to nighttime missions from the war, admitted that they had been enjoying being able to sleep normally. Troy was too anxious to sleep, and Moffitt was drinking coffee. All watched the clock, saying nothing.

At midnight, the full moon was at its zenith. For a September night, it was freezing outside. Kappoulis let Moffitt borrow a coat and gloves, and offered the same to Troy. Troy refused. He was cold, but he was riddled with dread. He wouldn't let anyone see it, though Moffitt kept glancing at him, as if he knew.

The men mounted the horses. Moffitt led on Sendoa, with Troy sitting behind him. Two people on one horse wasn't ideal, but Troy stated several times that once they encountered the strix, he was going to be on foot, among the jackals. There was a jittery feeling in his chest and stomach that reminded him of the night they attacked the magpies' castle. He was glad this was on him, and not someone like Jules, but he would have given anything to have Dietrich there wielding a flamethrower.

They rode several miles north, into the mountains. Distant bells from churches and monasteries could be heard. Vasilakis explained that they were likely warnings for people to stay in their homes as the witching hour was upon them. As the terrain became rougher, Kavi flew ahead. All of a minute passed before he came back. "They're coming!" he called. "Brace yourselves!"

"Oh, I've got horrible memories right now," Moffitt said.

"Magpies?" Troy asked.

Moffitt nodded. He double-checked the old Lee-Enfield rifle that Kappoulis had given him. "I wish I had that Winchester shotgun you gave me."

"Same. Pity they weren't given any shotguns during the war."

"Well, we'll make do with what we have." Moffitt looked over his shoulder. "For what it's worth, I'm glad to be fighting alongside you again."

Troy nodded in agreement, squeezing Moffitt's shoulder. "In case something happens, I'm sorry for being a pain in the ass a few days ago."

"You're forgiven." Moffitt stiffened when a black cloud full of glowing red eyes appeared from beyond the peaks of the mountains.

"Open fire!" Kappoulis shouted.

The silence of night was shattered by the cracks and bangs of rifles, the anxious whinnying of the horses, and the enraged screeching of the strix. Troy climbed down from Sendoa's back. The darkness was suddenly illuminated with the dim blue glowing of spectral jackals appearing from thin air and charging forward to leap at the strix as they descended. A white flash appeared, and Kavi was seen spearing a strix with his talons.

"Spread out!" Moffitt called while loading more cartridges into his rifle. "Form a defense line and don't let the blasted things through!"

The number of strix seemed endless, but they were focused mainly on the jackals. They fought the jackals with an intense ferocity that gave Troy the impression that they were scared. Their distraction gave the Greeks and Moffitt a chance to shoot, taking out birds as they came.

Troy found himself wondering where exactly the strix were coming from. Did they have a "base" of sorts, like the magpies? Was there one in particular that he needed to defeat in order to make them stop? Did he just have to hold out until the night was over? He wasn't too keen on doing that. He would rather put a stop to this before anyone got hurt. A pack of about ten jackals was sent ahead, sprinting deeper into the pass between mountains. Troy followed, though he couldn't run nearly as fast as them. He wished he could, though.

He was summoning jackals left and right to keep the strix off of him as he continued running through the pass. When he spotted a white vulture, he called out, "Kavi! What exactly do I have to do here?!"

"Keep heading north, Troy!" Kavi said. "You will find—" The breath rushed from his lungs when a strix slammed into him.

Troy skidded to a halt, swiftly summoning a jackal to charge the strix struggling with Kavi. The strix came close to sinking its beak into the vulture's neck, only to be yanked away by the jaws of the jackal.

"And that's why we don't get distracted," Kavi said, breathing hard. "Just go, Troy. North. Keeping heading north."

Part of Troy wanted to argue, but instead, he kept going. The pass sloped downward, with a winding stream cutting through it. The jackals crossed easily, while Troy was a bit more careful, not wanting to slip and injure himself. He could hear the confrontations between strix and jackals all around him, and began to wonder if the strix had any idea of what he was supposed to be finding. If I'm supposed to be going north, they might be expecting me. Troy glanced around, then made a sharp turn to his left, running alongside the stream. The space between mountains narrowed considerably. There was almost no vegetation, just rock and soil. It was much colder here, too. Cold enough for a few flakes of snow to fall.

Dread coiled tightly around Troy's stomach. The dreams… The dreams with snow… Something about that particular pass made him extremely uneasy. Frightened, even. He made a mad dash for the end, but it looked like there was no end in sight. He was breathing hard, and his chest ached with the effort of running combined with the cold, dry air. He started wondering if he would ever get out of that pass. Was he even still there? Was this a nightmare created by the strix?

He looked over his shoulder when the sound of guns going off seemed like it was getting closer. They're all supposed to stay back! Let me handle this! He wasn't sure what to do or say when he saw it was only Moffitt, still atop his horse. The lanky Englishman had a look of terror on his face, and Troy shouted, "Get back to your position, Moffitt!"

"Get out of the pass, Troy!" Moffitt called back.

You came up to tell me that? Like I'm not already trying to do that? Troy didn't say anything in response, and kept heading forward. A black shape suddenly appeared in the corner of his eye. The screeching of a strix was loud and piercing. Just before the bird could crash into him, he instinctively raised his hands, crossing his arms in front of his face. A jackal was now locked with the strix in midair, its jaws clamped down around its neck. The two animals' magical energies clashed in a spectacular blue light show. Troy expected them to fall to the ground, but they remained inches away from him, as if they were frozen. Tiny flashes of lightning surrounded them, then Troy heard something similar to ice cracking. The cracking spread over the jackal, faster and faster as Troy started to feel as though he couldn't hold it anymore. The scent of blood was filling his nose. The strix's horrid red gaze turned to him as the first droplets began running from his right nostril.

Oh, yeah, they are vampires, after all— Troy pondered how to get out of this. If he released this jackal, he wouldn't have more than a second before that strix was on top of him, and it took more than that for him to summon another.

He didn't have time to think. The strix tried to shove its way through the jackal, but what neither it nor Troy anticipated was the huge bang of the spirit collapsing. It split him and the strix apart from each other, sending them both flying against the rocky sides of the mountains surrounding them. The force of the explosion knocked Troy unconscious. He came to seconds later, feeling himself coming to a stop by a scraggly bush. He was spattered in his own blood, but was more concerned about whether or not he was concussed. His concerns shifted when he felt vibrations in the ground beneath him.

"Troy! Get out of there!" Moffitt hollered.

The vibrations quickly turned to rumbling and shaking. A chill shot down Troy's spine when he saw the snow cascading down from the two peaks on either side. He could see strix getting struck and buried by the avalanche. He wasn't sure where to go—toward Moffitt, or toward the north, where he was supposed to go. He could see that despite the fact that Sendoa was beginning to panic, Moffitt was waiting until the last possible second, so Troy started making a run for him. Pain surged and wrapped around his head. His consciousness was wavering in and out, and he could feel himself stumbling and threatening to fall. Come on, fight it!

For a moment, he wasn't sure which direction he was going, or even if he was upright. He stopped when he saw the now-blurred shapes of Moffitt and Sendoa beginning to gallop toward him. Moffitt then abruptly pulled the Percheron into a halt. Troy's senses faded once more. When he came around, he saw that Moffitt and Sendoa were gone. His thoughts raced, and he tried to run. Intense cold loomed over him from behind, and suddenly found himself being shoved over by massive amounts of ice and snow.

Troy prepared himself for the sound of the river.

The river never came. There was only pitch-blackness and the overly loud sound of his own heartbeat. For a moment, he wondered if that meant he was going to survive. He wasn't completely unconscious. Was he? Something didn't feel right. He wanted to dismiss that as being a symptom of his concussion. Same with the feeling of falling. He kept falling… and kept falling… and kept falling. There was nothing to grab onto, nothing to stop him. Panic surged inside. How do I stop? Can I stop? No, no, no… This can't be the end. Please, no, I know it's not. This isn't the river! Where's the river?!

He didn't think it was a good sign that he preferred the river over this. At least the river's purpose was certain—mostly. He would rather go there because he knew he could fight it. Well, he hoped he could. He wasn't sure how many times he would be allowed to fight death. He also hoped Dietrich didn't find out. We don't need him going and letting a mamba bite him again. I can do this… can I?

He wondered if this was a punishment. A punishment for all his failures, all his stubbornness, all his broken relationships. He could faintly hear Dietrich telling him not to think like that, and a choking sensation rose in his throat. Let me out of here, please. Let me go back to my family.

His fall ended in cold water. Terror overcame him when he recognized the dark, vast lake from one of his dreams, and he looked below the water. Sure enough, the hazy, bluish white thing was there, and it was swimming up to meet him. Panicked, he tried to get away from it, but it kept after him. There was no land in sight, nothing for him to grab onto. Sharp teeth clamped around his left ankle. He was afraid to see what this creature was, but turned to look anyway. A brilliant, snow-white jackal began pulling itself up onto Troy's back. Its eyes were a similar shade of blue to his, and they were the last thing he saw before the weight of the jackal pushed him underwater. A faint voice that sounded a lot like his own said, "Let me handle this," just before Troy was completely submerged. Blackness overtook his vision, and the sensation of water in his ears was quickly replaced by the sound of wind.