When they came into sight, Kachiun’s heart pounded with excitement as he recognized his brother. Just seeing Temujin alive lifted his spirits from where they had sunk in the days alone. He pressed his lips tight and only then realized he had been murmuring his brother’s name aloud. He had been too long on his own, he admitted to himself as he sighted down the arrow at the older of the pair riding with Temujin.

Kachiun hesitated, his sharp eyes taking in every detail of the three men. Temujin sat tall in the saddle and there was no sign of ropes or a rein tied to the other men. Would they trust a captive not to gallop away at the slightest chance for freedom? Something was wrong, and he adjusted his grip on the drawn bow, the powerful muscles of his shoulders beginning to quiver. He would not let them past- he could not- but if he fired a shot in warning, he would have lost his chance to kill them swiftly. Both men were armed with bows, though he saw they were unstrung. They did not ride like men in hostile territory. Kachiun saw they carried long swords like the one Yesugei had worn on his hip. Nothing about them made sense, and while he hesitated, they had drawn level with his position in the trees.

He risked it all.

“Temujin!” Kachiun roared, rising from his crouch and pulling the bowstring back to his ear.

Temujin saw the figure out of the corner of his eye.

“Hold! Hold, Kachiun!” he shouted, raising his arms and waving.

Kachiun saw the two strangers vanish from sight in the instant of his warning, as fast as cats. Both dropped on the far side of their ponies, using the animals to shield them from attack. Kachiun breathed in relief as Temujin nodded to him, leaning over to dismount with a terrible awkwardness.

Kachiun’s heart thumped at the sight. The Wolves had hurt his brother, but he was here and he was safe. Temujin limped visibly as they ran together and Kachiun embraced him, overcome. It would be all right.

“I did not know if they were friends or enemies,” Kachiun said breathlessly.

Temujin nodded, steadying him with a clasp around the back of his neck.

“Bondsmen, brother,” Temujin said. “Arslan and Jelme, who brought me out of my captivity. They have come to us from our father’s spirit.”

Kachiun turned to the two men as they approached.

“Then you are always welcome in my camp,” he said. “I have a couple of ducks to feed you if you are hungry. I want to hear the tale.”

Temujin nodded and Kachiun realized he had not smiled since he had first caught sight of him. His brother had changed in his time away, grown darker somehow under the weight of his experiences.

“We’ll stay the night here,” Temujin confirmed. “But where is my mother and the others?”

“They have ridden west. I stayed alone in case you could make it back. I…was almost ready to leave. I had lost hope of seeing you again.”

Temujin snorted. “Never lose faith in me, little brother. My word is iron and I will always come home.”

To his astonishment, Kachiun found there were tears in his eyes. He blinked them away, embarrassed in front of the strangers. He had been too long alone and had lost his cold face completely. He struggled to bring his soaring emotions back under control.

“Come. I will make a fire and cook the meat,” he said.

Temujin nodded. “As you say. We have ground to cover at first light. I want to catch up with our mother.”

The three men followed Kachiun back to his camp, a damp place barely worthy of the name, with a litter of old bones around a small firepit. Kachiun set about starting a flame, his hands clumsy as he knelt over old ashes.

“There is a wanderer family half a day’s ride to the west,” he said as he worked the flint and steel. “Three men and two women. They came past here yesterday evening.” He saw Temujin look up with interest and misunderstood the light in his eye.

“We can avoid them if we take a line directly south before cutting through the black hills,” he said, grunting in satisfaction as the flame licked up around his tinder.

Temujin stared at the little fire. “I do not want to avoid them, brother. They may not know it, but they are my blood as much as you are yourself.”

Kachiun paused and sat back on his haunches. “I do not understand,” he said, seeing Arslan and Jelme exchange glances. “What do we want with wanderers?”

“They are the great tribe,” Temujin replied, almost to himself. His voice was so quiet that Kachiun had to strain to hear. “I will give them a family again. I will bring them in and I will make them hard and I will send them against those who killed our father. I will write the name of Yesugei in Tartar blood and, when we are strong, I will come back from the north and scatter the Wolves in the snow.”

Kachiun shivered suddenly. Perhaps it was his imagination, but he thought he heard the click of old bones on the wind.

KHASAR WAITED in the deep snow, his face numb despite the covering of mutton fat. He could not help feeling a little sorry for himself. His brothers seemed to have forgotten, but this was his sixteenth birthday. On impulse, he stretched out his tongue and tried to catch a few of the cold flakes. He had been there a long time and he was weary and bored. He wondered idly if he would find himself a woman in the Tartar camp, as he stared at it over a hundred paces of white ground. The wind was bitter and the clouds scudded by at great speed overhead, driven like pale goats before a storm. Khasar liked the image of the words and repeated them to himself. He would have to remember to tell Hoelun when they came back from the raid. Khasar considered sipping his airag to keep himself warm, but he remembered Arslan’s words and resisted. The swordsmith had given him only a cupful of the precious fluid in a second leather bottle.

“I do not want you drunk,” Arslan had said sternly. “If the Tartars reach you, we’ll need a steady hand and a clear eye.”

Khasar liked the father and son Temujin had brought back, particularly the older man. At times, Arslan reminded him of his father.

A distant movement distracted Khasar from his wandering thoughts. It was difficult to stay focused on the task at hand when he thought he was slowly freezing. He decided to drink the airag rather than be too cold to act. He moved slowly so as not to disturb the layer of snow that had built up on his deel and blanket.

It stung his gums, but he gulped it quickly, feeling the warmth spread in his lower chest and up into his lungs. It helped against the cold, and now there was definitely activity in the Tartar camp. Khasar lay just to the west of them, invisible under his covering of snow. He could see running figures and, when the wind dropped, he could hear shouting. He nodded to himself. Temujin had attacked. Now they would know if it really was only a small group of Tartars or the ambush Arslan had warned about. The Tartars had offered a blood price for the small group of raiders who had come north into their lands. If anything, it helped Temujin to recruit warriors from the wanderer families, taking their wives and children into his protection and treating them with honor. The Tartars were helping Temujin to build himself a tribe out in the icy wastes.

Khasar heard the flat smack of arrows being released. From such a distance, he could not tell if they were from Tartar bows, but it did not matter. Temujin had told him to lie at that point with a white blanket over him, and that is what he would do. He could hear dogs barking and he hoped someone shot them before they could threaten Temujin. His brother still feared the animals and it would not be right for him to show weakness in front of new men, some of them still wary and untrusting.