There was no rain that night and the boys slept in the second of the rough shelters they had constructed, a tiny part of their hunger laid to rest. It was still there, hurting, but they could hold it back once more and show the cold face to discomfort as they retreated from a ragged edge where no control was possible.

Temujin did not sleep. He rose on silent feet and padded out into the darkness, looking up at the moon and shivering. The summer would not last much longer, he realized as he walked. The winter was coming and it would kill them as surely as a knife in the chest. The marmots slept in their burrows in the cold months, far underground, where they could not be reached. The birds flew south and could not be trapped. Winter was hard enough for families in warm gers, surrounded by cattle and horses. It would be murder for the family of Yesugei.

As he stood and emptied his bladder onto the ground, he could not help thinking of the Olkhun’ut and the night he had crept out after Koke. He had been a child then, with nothing better to do than settle scores with other boys. He ached for the innocence of that night and wished Borte were there to hold. He snorted to himself at that thought, knowing Borte was warm and well fed, while his bones were showing.

Temujin sensed a presence behind him and spun, dropping low and ready to lunge or run.

“You must have good ears, brother,” Kachiun’s voice came. “I am like a silent breeze at night.”

Temujin smiled at his brother, relaxing. “Why are you awake?”

Kachiun shrugged. “Hungry. I’d stopped feeling it all day yesterday, then Bekter brings in a handful of marmot meat and my stomach has woken up again.”

Temujin spat on the ground. “My marmot. I killed it; he was just the one who took it from me.”

Kachiun’s face was difficult to read in the moonlight, but Temujin could see he was troubled.

“I guessed it. I don’t think the others noticed.”

He fell silent, a tiny grim figure standing in the dark. Temujin saw he had a bulge in his tunic, and he prodded it with a finger.

“What’s that?” Temujin asked, curious.

Kachiun looked nervously back toward the camp before he pulled something out and held it for Temujin to see. It was another marmot carcass. Temujin took it, felt the bones in his hand, already angry. They were split exactly as a hungry man would break them to get at tiny scraps of marrow. Bekter hadn’t risked a fire. The bones were raw, no more than a day old.

“I found it over where Bekter has been hunting,” Kachiun said, his voice troubled.

Temujin turned the fragile little bones over in his hands, running his fingers along the skull. Bekter had left the skin on there, though the eyes were gone. He had killed it on a day when there was nothing else to eat in the camp for any of them.

Temujin knelt and searched for any small scrap of flesh. There was a smell of rot on the bones, but it would not have spoiled too much in a single day. Kachiun knelt with him and they sucked each of the broken bones again, teasing out even a whisper of flavor. It did not take long.

“What will you do?” Kachiun asked when they were done.

Temujin made up his mind and felt no regrets.

“Have you ever seen a tick on a horse, Kachiun?”

“Of course,” his brother replied. They had both seen the fat parasites as large as the last joint on their thumbs. When they were pulled free, they left a trail of blood that took an age to clot.

“A tick is a dangerous thing when a horse is weak,” Temujin said softly. “Do you know what you must do when you find one?”

“Kill it,” Kachiun whispered.

When Bekter left the camp the following dawn, Temujin and Kachiun slipped out after him. They knew where he preferred to hunt and let him get far ahead, where he would not sense he was being watched.

Kachiun shot worried glances at Temujin as they crept along between the trees. Temujin saw the fear and wondered that he felt none of it himself. His hunger was a constant pain in his gut, and twice he had to stop and strain greenish liquid from his bowels, wiping himself with wet leaves. He felt light-headed and weak, but the starvation had burnt any sense of pity out of him. He thought he might have a light fever, but he forced himself on, though his heart bumped and fluttered weakly. This was what it was to be a wolf, he realized. No fear or regret, just a single drive to rid themselves of an enemy.

It was not hard to track Bekter on the muddy ground. He had not tried to conceal his path, and the only danger was that they would stumble across him when he had settled to watch for prey. Temujin and Kachiun padded silently behind, every sense straining. When they saw a pair of larks in a tree ahead, Kachiun touched his brother lightly on the arm in warning, and they walked a circle around the spot rather than have the birds cry an alarm.

Kachiun stopped and Temujin turned to him, wincing at the way his brother’s skull was perfectly visible beneath the stretched skin. It hurt to see it and Temujin assumed he too looked as close to death. If he shut his eyes, it seemed to rob him of balance, so that he swayed and had to fight dizziness. It required an effort of will to take a long, slow breath and lower his heart’s frantic pounding.

Kachiun raised an arm to point and Temujin stared ahead, freezing as he saw that Bekter had taken position a hundred paces farther on, overlooking the stream. It was hard not to be frightened of the figure kneeling like a statue in the bushes. They had all felt the force of Bekter’s fists and his weight on them in childish games. Temujin watched Bekter, wondering how to get close enough to take a shot. There was no doubt in his mind. His vision seemed bright and slightly blurred and his thoughts were cold, slow-moving things, but his path was set.

Kachiun and Temujin jerked as Bekter loosed an arrow into the water from where he hid. Both boys stepped back into cover as they heard a flurry of wings and panic and saw three ducks take off wildly, calling their warnings too late.

Bekter jumped up and waded into the stream. He was lost to sight then behind a tree, but when he came back to the bank, they saw he held the limp body of a red duck.

Temujin peered through a tangle of branches and thorns.

“We’ll wait here,” he murmured. “Find a spot on the other side of this path. We’ll take him on his way back.”

Kachiun swallowed a lump in his throat, trying not to show his nervousness. He did not like the new coldness he saw in Temujin, and he regretted showing him the marmot bones the night before. In the light of day, his hands shook at the thought of what they were intending to do, but when Temujin looked at him, he did not meet his stare. The smaller boy waited until Bekter’s back was turned and darted across the path, his bow ready.

Temujin narrowed his eyes as he watched Bekter retrieve the arrow and shove the duck into his tunic. He felt a pang of disappointment as Bekter stretched aching muscles and then strode away in the wrong direction, farther up the cleft. Temujin raised a flat palm to where Kachiun was hidden, though he could not see him. He thought of Bekter devouring the fat duck somewhere private, and he wanted to kill him right then. If he had been strong, with good milk and meat in his belly, he might have gone after him, but as weak as he was, only an ambush stood a chance of succeeding. Temujin eased his legs before they could begin to cramp. His gut sent a spasm of pain through him that made him close his eyes and curl up against it until it passed. He dared not drop his trousers while he waited, in case Bekter’s sharp nose smelled it. Yesugei had raised them all to be aware, and Temujin did not want to lose his advantage. He shut out the discomfort and settled down to wait.