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than twenty years had vanished entirely.
    Azhure abruptly realised that for the past five or six weeks she had been constantly happy. Never had she been accepted before, and the Icarii not only seemed to accept her for who she was, but they actually liked her.
    She nodded to an Icarii passing overhead, her thoughts returning to EvenSong. Azhure had so far resisted the urge to join the Strike Force in weapons training for fear of giving in to the violent streak the Avar claimed she possessed. She shuddered, remembering how after she had seized the arrow and killed her first Skraeling, she had been consumed with the desire to kill.
    Perhaps the Avar were right to regard her with some degree of apprehension.
    But Azhure had made up her mind. Axis was right; she should seek her own path. If her path lay in violence, then perhaps she should simply accept that.
    Accept the blood and turn it into a mark of respect, not of reproach.
    She turned down a corridor to her left, then ran lightly down several levels of stairs, her grace causing the Icarii birdman who soared past her to turn his head and watch for long moments until the Groundwalker woman disappeared into a corridor far below.
    EvenSong had a leather thong tied about her pale-skinned forehead to keep the sweat out of her eyes. She had turned twenty-five on the day after Yuletide, and had immediately joined the Strike Force for her five years of compulsory military service.
    She grunted as she parried a blow from her sparring partner. She did not like to sweat and thought longingly of the relaxing hot waters of the Chamber of Steaming Water. Once she had looked forward to her years in the Strike Force, but that was only because she had believed she would spend those years with her cousin FreeFall. Born only two monthsapart, she and FreeFall had grown up together, planned their lives together, and mused over what it would be like when he became Talon. It was not unusual for Icarii to marry or form sexual relationships with close relatives, and FreeFall and EvenSong had become lovers at thirteen.
    Of course, neither EvenSong nor FreeFall had considered the possibility that he would be so cruelly murdered at such a young age. EvenSong daily bewailed not only the loss of her friend and lover, but also the prospect of spending the rest of her long life alone.
    Her sparring partner and Wing-Leader, SpikeFeather TrueSong, slipped his stave under EvenSong's guard and dealt her a heavy blow to the ribs. She dropped her staff and fell to her knees, badly winded.
    "Pay attention," SpikeFeather hissed viciously. "In battle -even in a tavern brawl — you would be dead now! We cannot afford to lose any more SunSoars."
    EvenSong glared at him, her hand clutched to her ribs. "Like you lost FreeFall?" SpikeFeather had flown with Free-Fail and HoverEye BlackWing to meet Axis atop Gorken-fort's roof. But their mission had ended in tragedy when Borneheld murdered FreeFall.
    SpikeFeather swore and seized EvenSong by her short curls, hauling her to her feet. She winced and tried to twist free, but SpikeFeather's grip was too strong.
    "FreeFall had the courage to face life, EvenSong, even when it led him to death. Think how he would frown to see you use his death to give up on life itself!"
    The ten other members of the Wing had stopped sparring and watched SpikeFeather and EvenSong soberly. Ever since the disaster of Yuletide, training had taken on a much more serious aspect. Where once good humour and enjoyment had pervaded weapons practice, now the expectation of an eventual conflict with Gorgrael's forces dominated everyone's thoughts.
    SpikeFeather let EvenSong's hair go, then stepped back and glared at the rest of his command. He was an experienced Wing-Leader, but in these difficult times his responsibilities weighed heavily on him. And despite what EvenSong apparently thought, SpikeFeather agonised daily over his inability to act quickly enough to save FreeFall. EvenSong seemed to have no