West

"My father cast me out when I was ten," he said. Twisting, he pointed to the corner of the cave. "I put him there, far from the fire, so he could not get warm."

Oh, god. The longer I stayed, the harder it became not to freak out. But I listened to his words instead of my clamoring instincts. "Why did he cast you out?" I asked.

"I am different. I collected the spirits of animals when I was too small to collect those of men."

"These spirits … they're your friends?"

He nodded. "I taught myself to make a fire," he said and motioned to the blaze. "Running Bear taught me to hunt."

These images were clearer, childhood memories of a man who idolized his twin for taking care of him. I was able to see that Running Bear - and to my surprise, Sheriff Taylor - were both present in his mind. They visited him frequently and brought him toys and treats, like he was …

Still a child. Understanding rendered me nauseated. A lonely child, exiled at a young age, already on the precipice of madness. They didn't have the resources in this time to deal with him. I didn't want to sympathize with a serial killer but it was difficult not to sympathize with the lost child he'd been.

"You love them both," I murmured. "Don't you?"

"Yes. My brothers care for me."

The sheriff - who had hanged half the town, if Nell was to be believed - couldn't know what Fighting Badger did to his friends.

"You won't kill me, will you?" I managed in a tight voice.

"If you will be my friend, I will not."

"I will be," I said quickly. "I'll bring you grilled corn and wooden toys next time I come, like your brothers do."

He appeared pleased by this response. He was a young predator, quick to change his mind about whether his visitors were dinner or entertainment.

"I will not start a war," he decided. "I cannot leave my spirits, and I promised my brothers not to take more."

Sheriff Taylor knew. My stomach was churning, along with my thoughts.

"Eat." Fighting Badger ladled stew into a tin cup and passed it to me. The steaming soup smelled good, despite the feast I'd eaten for supper. He poured himself some soup and sipped it.

I followed his lead and was pleasantly surprised by the flavor. "This is really good," I told him.

"One of the spirits told me how to make it."

"How are you able to hear them?" I asked, puzzled.

"Maybe I have magic in my head like you do."