*** 

‘Why did I do that?’ Brachen thought as he continued to heal Dhanur. Despite being unconscious she jerked at every wet snap of her bones being set into place. Before blowing apart the cave entrance, Brachen was alone and Janelsa was leaving, clearly not interested in him anymore. He realized how easy it would have been to just let her go and take Janurana while he healed his daughter. But the other Ascetics were down in the caves with her. 

‘And I’d rather lose Zirisa again?’ he thought and curled his lips, unable to deny the validity of the argument, as disgusting as it might be. ‘I should have let them go. No. I could have just finished her off. … And then maybe have no light to heal Zirisa.’

Janelsa gave him plenty of time to contemplate as she stared at the collapsed tunnel entrance in dead silence. Stones continued to tumble inside, echoing through the caves. Even though she could break through, Janelsa knew that her daughter had more than enough time to sprint deep into the labyrinth and was easily out of her grasp. Slowly, and with a more neutral yet more horrifying stare, she limped towards Brachen. Frantically, with blood still leaking from his head, he transitioned from healing to aiming a blast of Light as she raised her hand with claws extending.

Both attacks bounced off the same wall. Deiweb dropped between them from above like a rigid column. Brachen’s blast of Light evaporated against him and Janelsa stumbled back just as she did against the temple’s barrier.

“One job!” Deiweb scoffed, smiling and holding his chin. “You had one job, kill her so I could watch. Okay. Fine.” He threw up his hands and looked straight past her as if she were a mote of dust floating between him and the cave, pulled out his feather to confirm Janurana’s location, and laughed. “She’s in there, is that right?”

“Verily,” Janelsa spat, rage at his cocksure tone shoved Brachen farther down her priority list than even the hole in her chest.

“Oh! Oh ho ho! Oh!” Deiweb tapped his nose. “You’re learning! Wonderful! I’m not following you into a cave. This is ridiculous. I’m leaving.”

With a flourish of his cloak, he stormed past Brachen. His stomps shook the entire mountain as he grumbled under his breath. Brachen kept his head down when Janelsa stumbled past him and kept healing Dhanur.

“Who else wants Janurana dead?” Janelsa hobbled after Deiweb, bracing against the open doorway.

Her demanding tone fell on Deiweb’s ears like a spark to kindling. He flinched, cocking his head into his shoulder.

“Oooh.” He turned slowly in place. His empty smile and the venom in his voice pushed her to take a single step back, though she didn’t break. His visage didn’t change, but something behind it did. Black, billowing, smoldering smoke seemed to rise from below him as if the aura of his anger was a tangible force. 

But he paused, brows shooting up and then slowly lowered. He grinned. He’d suddenly gotten an idea, a wonderful, awful idea. “Who do you think?”

“Answer me!”

“Why, Hegwous, of course.”

“What?” Janelsa’s defiant glare fell. “He… He’s still... How?”

“Still alive? Yes.” Deiweb casually tapped his lips, looking up. “Oh, did you not know? Spending so much time in these forests. How long? Doesn’t matter. Looks like you have something in common!”

“H-How did y—”

“I hear and see many things, mortal. I do hope you enjoy doing his work for him. The gwomoni can be quite lazy. Oh! Did you not know that either? That he’s one of them? Why, how else would such a painfully inadequate man survive for so long other than being such a creature?” 

“I knew he’s one of them! They all were! Just… Too late once I knew.”

“So you did know? Pray, forgive me. I did not commit this to memory. I didn’t see much of a reason.” Deiweb sauntered up to Janelsa, who didn’t move a muscle and paced around her. “Suppose it is obvious. How else would someone so small as you have known what your daughter became? Perhaps you haunted your old home when you died and watched the transformation? But what does it matter? You are done with. My my my, still, you’re so kind to help the man, the monster, who brought down your whole world after he clearly did a better job holding your lands than you seeing how long he has reigned. And from the shadows too, letting the, what is the word, Maharaj? Yes, letting them sit on the throne while he commands from luxury behind it. It seems he learned a few lessons since the Rivers’ collapse, don’t you think so? Do you not like that fact? Does it pain you…?” He leaned in, nearly touching Janelsa.

She didn’t move. 

“So frozen you are! Ha!” Deiweb guffawed. “In fact, perhaps it would behoove you to head to him, not to your nothing of a daughter. Maybe you tried to before this, and you couldn’t beat him? And settled for the weaker enemy? That I didn’t care to see at all. With house Malihabar gone, there wasn’t much to care about with you or your heir. A name scattered to the winds… But maybe you can try to ruin him now, maybe you could get revenge. Oh, don’t go charging the Capital like a rabid bull. My runes will keep you back, did you see them? No, I suggest you turn your wrath on his own Lords who will be arriving soon.” Deiweb looked over the horizon, then spun on his heel and threw open his arms. “Yes! He wasn’t the ruler! He was a servant! You! You, the great Janelsa Malihabar, defeated by a peon of the Gwomon! By the nine realms I can taste the irony! I bet your daughter will head north. And if you’re so pathetic now as to lose against one old man and a wounded warrior, I don’t think you’d get through that jungle anyhow. I hear it’s full of spirits like you. It resisted even the likes of me! I doubt you could push through it. Give up on your nothing of a name. But maybe you can make Hegwous’ life awful by annoying his masters, the Gwomon is their name. Oh, would even a single mistake ruin him. Maybe you can kill one or two, wouldn’t that be the end of his world? Not that they’re weak, I dare say they could pose a problem to even myself if all of them banded together. Still, fade away to their power or not, but even that would do something to hurt him, and I think that would make an impact on this world, more than killing a girl who no one remembers.” 

Deiweb locked eyes with the still paralyzed Janelsa, then vanished into the air. As the wisp of smoke blew away, his servant, who had only then made her way down from the temple roof, was dragged with him, shrinking as she was brought to her master and disappeared. 

Janelsa stood, watching him drift away into the night. She looked down at the ground for what felt like the first time. The only question she could never bring herself to ask was answered.

“If—When Janurana… there’s nothing left. No one left,” she said.

Janelsa had shunted the idea deep down every time it reared its ugly head. She knew anyone who could conquer her would finish off the last few houses that held out against her. No one would rise up against them, no one would reclaim her house’s lands or take their own revenge. But she never let the thought take hold. She hadn’t even thought of Hegwous in the years since her fall. Her mental resilience to keep her conqueror’s face out of her mind didn’t even make her smirk with self–gratification. 

Out of habit, her feet turned her to continue the hunt.

However, she smacked into a wall of Light from Brachen. She recoiled, the barrier boiling her skin. As she hopped back her bone snapped through her shin again and she fell to her knees and groaned.

Like Janurana’s scream, Janelsa’s groan touched the soul of any who heard it as she unleashed the emotions she had suppressed in her years. It transitioned to a wail beyond what even the most agonizing wound could cause. In it was the still fresh sting of defeat, the mourning of her short-lived dynasty, the initial pain of her child becoming a monster, the centuries of wasted time in purposeful blind rage and the fresh loss of her child after getting so close alongside the final realization that her entire life’s work would be for naught. Janelsa Malihabar slammed her fists into the temple floor, sending cracks into its very foundation.

Brachen, eyes wide and pupils dilated, kept up his shield. But it flickered and flexed. His hands were shaking and his eyes were swollen and irritated from the blood leaking into them.

Quickly looking down to Dhanur, he saw she was still breathing. He had to stop. He couldn’t keep healing her. She wouldn’t be up again for some time, but she wasn’t dead. He was going to pass out or worse if he continued. More blood poured from his wound than before. 

But looking at the woman in front of them, the one who hadn’t gotten up even as he checked his wound, and was more motionless than Dhanur, he hesitated.

 The fact that she even had damage from his blasts gave him enough courage, especially since Deiweb had left. He centered his thoughts and focused on what was around him. Janelsa was still and his hands had fallen to his side. He didn’t even notice they had lost their strength and the wall had dissipated. He couldn’t lift them. None of his muscles responded.

“Why don’t you finish me?” Janelsa asked wearily. 

Brachen noticed her accent was much thicker than Janurana’s. 

“You’re already down,” he said, almost as weary.

“And you’ve closed off the cave so I can’t follow them?” Janelsa sucked her teeth and rose laboriously.

Brachen nodded.

“What makes you think I can’t get through that?” She flipped her bangs out of her face, though they weren’t in her eyes, and proceeded to rip off her boiled skin once again.

“I’m not of the mind that you can’t but not so quickly.” Brachen watched, flinching with her, almost sadly. He avoided looking at her chest cavity or hands, though they were healing. Luckily, the violet glare from the moon made them harder to notice.

“Aren’t you going to try anything else? You’re just going to sit there looking down on me?” Her eyes went steely at his lack of fear.

He didn’t even know that was how he looked. “No, no. That would—It would be a waste of our time here, but I think talking would do well for you. And you can’t do much more until you heal, I assume.” He looked down to Dhanur, still breathing, and forced himself up.

Janelsa held up her hand for battle, extending her claws from her intact fingers, but Brachen was walking away. He hobbled to a spot with food from earlier and sat heavily on one of the pillows. Catching his breath, he motioned for her to join him, forcing a smile. He was a guru of the Light, not anointed to judge but to support, especially when judgment would almost certainly lead to a painful death for at least one of them.

Janelsa stood perplexed, her jaw slightly agape. Before, Brachen was quivering in fear as she approached and suddenly he sat with the same type of grin as the other man she knew with as glorious facial hair.

Knowing better than to disrespect an elder, Janelsa walked forward. 

“An elder,” she sneered at herself, almost laughing that she still remembered her manners despite her being much older than him. As she passed Dhanur, she paused. She hadn’t retracted her claws, and they pointed straight down at her. She blinked slowly and looked at Brachen, who took in a sigh and made his hand glow. Janelsa tried to fist her hands, but stopped when her claws dug into her and soon relented with a deep sigh that transitioned to a chuckle and even a smile. When she made her way to Brachen and sat, she sighed even more heavily.

“Oh! Almost forgot,” he said, startling her. He pulled himself up as tenderly as he had sat down. “My manners. Would you like some soma?”

“Soma?” she asked, the name sounding familiar.

“A drink, distilled from the plant of the same name. It helps clear the mind.”

“I can’t drink.” She cocked her brow, but she corrected her rude tone. “Or anything, Thank you for the offer.” Again, she chuckled.

“You may find that’s not the case here.” He motioned to her body and to her hands caressing the fabric below her.

Almost blushing, she yanked back her hand, curled her face into a scowl, but she relented, acknowledging his point. “Thank you.”

Janelsa continued to caress the pillows absentmindedly as Brachen jogged to the store room. The sounds of the fire being started passed over her as she gazed about the temple. Its stone was more carved beauty than she’d seen in far too long. The outer walls of the cities into which Janurana had fled were never as ornate. The paintings, reliefs, and statues drew her attention for longer than she could have noticed. One of the paintings reminded her of the one adorning one of her meeting halls. A group of Ascetics gathered under the sun, receiving a blessing of Light and sending off shadows dotted with eyes. Janelsa wondered if someone had seen the painting she had commissioned of her standing above her warriors donning their bull horned helms directing them to push back her rivals and shared the design until it reached the temple. Janurana had enjoyed hearing the stories associated with them while sitting on her mother’s lap.

Dhanur let out a long breath that made Janelsa look over. But her hands didn’t fist up like before, instead she simply shook her head.

“Your bull. Your stupid bull. I would have—”

“Not realized all this?” Muli asked from behind.

Janelsa couldn’t deny him. She looked at the statue she had thrown, cracked and broken, but was still recognizable. She didn’t know who or what it was beyond someone holding up their broken hands, then she pulled a few more pillows under her, lounging back for what was the first time in ages. With the tactile wonder of the cotton gracing her fingers, her mind drifted to other memories she’d long forgotten like the pile of pillows she used as a throne. It was almost as soft as the plush beds of the Malihabar family house always filled with servants doting on Janelsa’s every need. Sometimes she would make the heads of other houses wait for days to even speak with her if they refused to pay their tithes, laughing as she enjoyed the men they sent her while they stewed. 

But all that was gone and she wouldn’t get it back. Janelsa saw clearly then she was simply doing what Hegwous wanted, and killing her daughter wouldn’t change anything. When the thought entered her mind, she didn’t smother it like every other time. Her smile fell.

“Guess I was right, eh? I guess there really was no reason to—” 

“Muli,” she said simply and he backed off with a smirk under his impressive beard, an easy match for Brachen’s mustache. 

Brachen was leaning against the hearth in the storeroom, catching his breath. But his breath hitched when he remembered he just left Dhanur out there alone. However, he saw the look in Janelsa’s eyes. She wasn’t going to do anything, and he wasn’t going to be able to stop her without getting some of his strength back. He warmed his hands on the fire. They felt so cold. It wasn’t sunlight but he saw the color returning to his skin. 

‘Perhaps the Light really is a great fire in the sky.’ He had heard many gurus say so while on his pilgrimages, but many said it was only a coincidence and fire helped for another reason entirely. Traders from far beyond the collapsed Rivers or from the lands that traded with the western ports spoke of fire magic. Both had made sense to him. But he never saw foreign magic spawn naturally in either Daksin or Uttara. Fire and the Light, however, both illuminated the night and warmed things. Fire cooked and the sun swallowed their butter when offered.

‘Then… Perhaps the Light could burn.’ Brachen swallowed the thought.

The water was only starting to boil and not wanting to put too much faith into his people reading skills alone, he plopped the soma sticks into the pot, relished its scent, felt the color returning to him yet more and the wound on his head throbbing less, and brought it out with two cups.

When he exited the storeroom, Janelsa was practically asleep, laying back on her pillows. Dhanur was still breathing. He smiled again, almost proud of how well his plan was going, and was able to pour his guest a cup before she even registered his presence. Janelsa tensed up as if Brachen would attack again. With shaking fingers she reached forward, her eyes locked on his reassuring smile. The few twitches it made betrayed the underlying fear he was still covering.

“Ah!” Janelsa snatched her hand away, the heat singeing her finger tips.

“It’s not that hot,” he said, perplexed.

She sucked her teeth, realizing she had only felt its warmth, not the sear of flesh boiling away. She reached for the cup again in a flash and tried to hide her surprise behind her stony face. 

“I remember this.” The scent wafted through Janelsa’s every fiber. She couldn’t hide her shoulders relaxing, taking a moment to just enjoy the smell and warmth before sipping. 

Brachen gave her the courtesy, allowing her to enjoy the simple pleasure before speaking.

“Who was that man?” he asked.

Janelsa’s eyes hardened. “I believe he served the gwomoni. I don’t particularly care.”

Brachen glanced at Dhanur, with a mix of exasperation, curiosity, and worry. ‘By the Light, what have you been doing, Zirisa?’ he thought, wondering what kind of woman had she become to welcome the ire of ones so powerful. ‘Maybe that bow was a mistake.’ 

But he knew that wasn’t important then, parental regrets could come later.

“He doesn’t seem like a spirit.” Brachen pointed to Janelsa’s wounds.

“Mm. And here I was thinking he’d belong here,” Janelsa scoffed and motioned to the whole Light temple.

“Why did you attack my home?” he asked monotonously, pouring his soma.

“It’s nothing personal,” she replied and sighed to shove down the memory of her own home being invaded. “Of that, I promise you. Your… Daughter?”

“Adopted.”

“Hm. Your daughter did keep me from my goal, but I have nothing against you or your order. You were—are—wer—ugh, in the way.” She fisted one of her hands where Brachen couldn’t see as she smelled her drink again and bowed her head as little as possible.

“Of?”

He waited as she stared at the cup and brought her other hand up to hold it as well. There was no jittering in the temple for Janelsa as the spirit and mortal planes were as one, another aspect of the Light no guru had a good answer to. When Janelsa moved her drink side to side, the ripples on its surface came and went immediately. 

His question eventually penetrated her focus on the soma as she bent her head to take a sip.

Although Janelsa never felt thirsty or hungry, the sensation hit her like a charging bull. She nearly dropped her drink in surprise at how hot the soma was on her tongue. After the heat passed, she smacked her lips and marveled at the tingling she didn’t realize was still possible on her tongue. Her lips met and parted a few times as the weight of her answer once again struck her. “Purging my bloodline.”

Brachen blinked. “Pur—What could she have done? She’s a nice girl.”

“Guru.” Janelsa almost leaned back as though she were in her home, but caught herself, and sneered into the cup as she spoke. “You can tell she’s gwomoni, can’t you? Has she finally become an expert at hiding things after all this time? I doubt any years could aid her in the art of lying.”

“No, not at all.” He had to hide a scoff of his own at how amateur Janurana had been at concealing her affliction. “B-but she is your daughter. I couldn’t… fathom causing Dhanur further pain over being a victim of something she couldn’t control!”

“Are you implying I don’t care about my Shzahd?” 

“I don’t need to imply it.” Brachen shifted back.

Janelsa took in a sharp breath. She puffed up almost instinctively, then released her breath as a sigh. “Do not say I didn’t love my daughter. From the day she was old enough to stand I trained her to be ready, to be better than even me. I would have given her Uttara and the Valley and the Rivers again too if I could. She would have been heir to the most powerful house in the plateau’s history, the Rivers’ history, the north’s history. I was the strongest. What I did was for love, giving her the title of ruler of house Malihabar before she—” Janelsa sighed again. “Even now I do what I have to do for love. Is part of this for me? To preserve my legacy? Yes. But she doesn’t deserve to live as the monster they made her. My daughter, my Shzahd, my baby deserved to die with honor and strength, as the ruler of the world and not linger on as a freak who will watch everyone she loves wither away, that must kill to survive, that can never simply enjoy the unbridled breeze on a bright day at a river’s edge.”

Brachen turned to Dhanur. He tried to repress his fear, agitation, and confusion, but trickles of the emotions escaped as he played stalling host to the spirit who had invaded his home and desecrated his temple, one who may be feeling the same rush of warmth and power the soma gave him. He had never seen a spirit drink soma and he noticed her grotesque wounds didn’t seem to be healing any faster, but he would rather be prepared and gather as much of his own strength as he could before acting again. He took another sip.

“I understand some, I believe, but wouldn’t that be her choice to make? If she chooses to live on and not dash herself off a cliff then who are you to make that choice for her?” he asked.

Janelsa was looking in the same direction as him, peering out at the moon through the doors. She hadn’t noticed how big and purple it was and realized how long it had been since she had last simply looked up to watch the clouds swirl hypnotically.

“We’re obviously very different people.” She closed her eyes as though enjoying the drink so as not to roll them. “My name. It’s Janelsa Malihabar. Is that familiar to you at all?”

“I can’t say it is.”

She huffed slowly and ground her teeth. “Years ago, before you were born, elder,” she shot him a contemptuous smile, “it probably would have been the name of this region, this mountain. I don’t remember exactly.” She looked down at the minute reflection in her drink, still able to make out her blue face. With a long breath she stared into her own eyes, but recoiled when she noticed the unnatural wrinkles creasing her cheeks. “Well, not this close to the north, but these lands served me. Wait. Yes, actually. It was Malihabar. But it isn’t now. I didn’t get to be your age…” She waited for his name.

“Brachen. Do I really look that old?” He pretended to be shocked, touching his wrinkles and seeing his bleeding had subsided.

“Brachen,” she continued and leaned forward. “But I accomplished more than you ever have. Or will, considering your life is quickly coming to its end. But I saw the weakness of my parents and removed them, I took control of our house before my twentieth summer, I endured our exile from the Rivers before they had dried up, I brought us to power in a foreign land, I subdued the plateau as no one had before. All of it was mine. And now all I have is my name. And my daughter has my name. When I was young I was the conqueror. And now I am the conquered.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m still unfamiliar with your plight.”

“I united almost all the south by my twenty–fifth summer,” Janelsa continued, as if not hearing him, falling into her memories. “The houses here bickered worse than children even then. All I had to do was take them down one by one. I was in possession of any resources the plateau had to offer. Any northern cities paid their dues to me.”

He listened, allowing her to vent her thoughts.

“Whoever wasn’t directly ruled by my family was my vassal. My house came from the Rivers in the far south, we were much fairer than even you.”

“I thought you were all blue.” He had to pick the low hanging fruit.

“Mmn. Don’t interrupt me. Mother and father ruled our house in name only, I saw how pitiful they were. I saw that they hid behind the scriptures like an excuse. ‘Change what we can and accept what we can’t,’ they would say, and they would only accept, never change. Once mother and father were disposed of, my house finally realized its power. The bull got its horns. But the Rivers didn’t like us being stronger than the other houses and keeping what was ours. Hegwous preferred a more, what was the word, egalitarian life. The houses here on the plateau were too busy bickering amongst themselves for more wealth than the others. It wasn’t hard to muster an army and roll over them one by one. Only one cursed bastard kept me at bay, and he just let me march into his western swamplands and burned his own crops so my army starved.” Janelsa shuddered in disgust and anger at the one man who had resisted her onslaught. “He didn’t help his fellow governors. Sitting and watching, waiting, observing how I fight. How lucky for him that he was last, else wise he would have fallen too. I had my daughter in my twenty–seventh. My heir. Right when she was to come of age, it was all for nothing.”

Janelsa’s hand strained against the cup until it shattered. Brachen leaned back, but she didn’t even notice the shards embedded in her hand as her words dripped with hate.

“The Rivers dried up. And that filthy monster who banished my house arrived soon after. He didn’t even fight me himself. No, almost every one of my vassals swapped their allegiance. They kept their warriors ready for war until Hegwous had nearly every house under his thumb. The rhino, the turtle, the tiger, everyone.” She scoffed. “The elephant. I never thought of just assassinating Muli. Cowards. I tried to fight him. My house was left alone, a single bull against the whole forest. I had victories, but they were teasing me, leading me into traps. There were whispers in the Rivers that Hegwous was living too long, that he had some sort of foreign magic in his employ. Most brushed it off as him being foreign. But by the time I knew what Hegwous was, what he made all those who joined him… My daughter, my heir, is now a victim to—They took everything from me, and left her to be a despicable monster with whom I cannot possibly share the only possession I have left.”

“I see your hubris brings you to your mission.” Brachen shifted on his pillow. The soma’s warmth was spreading through his body, bringing courage along with it. 

Her face instantly tightened and she shot to her feet.

“Your courtesy is appreciated, Guru. But facts are facts. My confidence comes from will, but my pride only follows my accomplishments, of which I have many.” She glared down at him with her voice lowering to a dangerous growl.

“Those don’t impress me.” He looked down, as if bowing for her. “It didn’t impress me when the Maharaj called for war with Uttara, and yours doesn’t impress me now. I’m sorry for your loss, but only your daughter is still alive, and these other accomplishments don’t seem to matter anymore.”

“Don’t—?” She stopped short and grabbed his neck with frightening speed. Miraculously, he wasn’t knocked unconscious as she pinned him to the ground. “Perhaps to unimportant detritus like you who will leave nothing behind!”

He clawed at her hand, scraping ineffectually as the shards of the cup still in her flesh dug into his throat.

“No clothes, no possessions, no name!” She tightened her grip with every word. “I know what matters. I had everything that mattered! My Shzahd was to be the best ruler this plateau had ever seen and now she’s a monster! You will not convince me I died like you will. That my work had been for nothing, that my Shzahd became that for nothing!”

Brachen choked one last time before slapping his hands against Janelsa’s chest and unleashing a devastating blast of Light. In an instant she flew back again leaving a sizable dent in the temple wall. Brachen clasped his throat. Before he could cough and regain his breath, he ran to scoop up Dhanur and chastised himself for not having done that sooner. Though he winced at her pained moan, he slung her over his shoulder.

“By the Rays, girl,” he chuckled, remembering when he last held her, and grabbed her bow as well.

He planted his feet, summoning a ball of Light between his hands whose brightness alone hit Janelsa like another full blast as she tried to get up. With pained concentration, he took in a massive breath and launched the pillar forward. It had no trouble smashing aside the rubble that had been the cave entrance. Brachen gently flicked his wrist and curved his hand, turning the pillar into an arch to hold up the stones before they collapsed again.

Janelsa wheezed as he ran, struggling to hold out her hand as if she could reach him. With a smirk so big his mustache couldn’t hide it, he sent a tiny shot of Light from his finger, barely a tease, but it tapped Janelsa right on the nose. After running through the arch, Brachen let his shaking hand relax, and what he thought must have been the entire rear wall of the temple collapsed in a truly deafening cacophony. He threw up a wall between him and the noise, but it only blocked a shower of dust.

Brachen emptied his chest of air. As he relaxed he nearly dropped Dhanur, but straightened up with a hand on his hip, nodding at his success, only to get dizzy. The soma had strengthened him, but lighting a tiny orb on his fingertip, he saw how much color his hands had lost again from his burst of energy. 

He sighed once to center himself and set aside cocksure pride so he could focus. Deciding to ration the Light he had, he gave Dhanur another tiny healing burst. It was only slightly bigger than the one he had used to zap Janelsa. Brachen hadn’t noticed when he did so, but the woman didn’t have a look of rage, it was one that made him regret taunting her, even if she was trying to murder her own child.