‘Where is Bia!?’ Atzi was shouting, stirring Objo from her sleep. She had been dreaming again. Imita with a tiny egg, cooing to it as she cradled it in her hands before crushing it, the yold running thickly through her fingers. Viline trying to fly with smouldering wings, burning feathers falling out in a flaming path behind her. Leiden weaving, weaving her own intestines into bloody baskets. And the new addition of Vaara, foreign flowers blooming from within her decaying body, her entire torso a festering wound, ‘I’ve chosen you,’ she said in the witchgod’s voice.


    ‘Bia?’ Objo asked groggily, looking around for the roadrunner harpy. She couldn’t see her in their camp, and with a quick glance at the witches’ bedrolls, Temero seemed to be missing as well. ‘Did she go and look for more medicine with the witch?’ she asked, managing to get Atzi’s attention. The golden pheasant looked quickly at the witches, ‘you!’ she said, to the taller witch, Jin, ‘where is your kin?!’ The witch shook her head, but the younger one was already looking at the missing witch’s empty bedroll. ‘Look,’ she said, holding up a strip of fabric, red markings on it. ‘She left a message!’ The harpies crowded around, ‘what is that?’ Atzi asked. It looked like bloody fingerprints, ‘it’s one of our written languages,’ Nevin explained, ‘each phoneme has its own fingerprint combination, it’s very personal,’ she frowned, reading the short passage. ‘She and your Bia have left together,’ there was a gasp among the harpies and immediate protests. ‘Quiet!’ hissed Hrae, ‘is that it?’ Nevin hesitated, ‘she says, she and Bia have renounced their gods, and we should all do the same.’ Hrae did nothing to quell the uproar that followed, though her eyes narrowed at the flustered flock.


    ‘Should we follow them,’ Objo could hear Atzi mutter to Hrae, despite the clamor of her sisters. Hrae looked out to the desert, the pair hadn’t made any effort to hide their steps. She nodded, imperceptibly, ‘we can’t allow this defection to be tolerated, it will damage Lady Nemia’s authority. And the witch must still be held accountable for her actions. Bia too, if she has truly been disloyal.’


    Daich and Objo were selected to pursue Bia and Temero with Hrae, leaving their other two prisoners and the still injured Iloin behind with the rest of the flock in order to make good speed. They would take to the skies once more, as Bia was a great roadrunner, and there was no assurance they would be able to catch up on foot if she was to run at full speed. Objo was begrudgingly glad for the opportunity to fly again, she had missed spreading her wings, even if the situation was unfortunate. She hoped Bia made good time, she had no desire to hunt a sister.


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    They flew in a v formation, Hrae at point. They flew high, taking advantage of thermals to accelerate their search. Objo could just make out something several miles ahead, a body, perhaps? Had the pair made the dubious decision to take a break? Did they think no one would come after them? Hrae seemed to have seen it as well, as she had begun to descend, beelining towards the form. It was Bia, and she wasn’t resting. The witch had gone ahead, her footprints in the sand continuing further in the same direction, leaving Bia’s corpse where she had fallen in an outcropping of flowers. Hrae alighted next to her, looking down with those impassive eyes. Objo recognized that look, had been on the receiving end of it after her fight with Zsa Zsa.


    There was no blood, no clear reason for Bia to have fallen. And yet, here she was, her limbs fallen to pieces, her feathers strewn across the dusty ground, intersperse among dusky desert flowers. It was as if her golem body had deconstructed itself, as if she had been unmade. Objo crouched down, ‘Don’t!’ Hrae warned, as Objo reached for her sister. Objo was undeterred, gently touching Bia’s cheek. She wanted to close her sister’s eyes, but maybe Bia would prefer her eyes open, looking towards the sky. Where she had always wanted to be, instead of trapped on the ground.


    ‘What do you think happened?’ Daich asked. Objo opened her mouth, then closed it again, uncertain. ‘The witch must have tricked her,’ Hrae responded, eyeing Objo sharply. Objo breathed out harshly, shocked at Hrae’s obvious lie. It seemed obvious to her that Nemia had revoked her blessings on Bia’s golem body with her defection. Bia had been renounced, just as she had renounced Nemia. But she wasn’t about to argue that with Hrae. ‘The witch must have tricked her into leaving and then betrayed her,’ Hrae said, emphatically locking eyes with Objo. Objo gave a ragged nod. Daich didn’t look completely convinced, but didn’t ask further. ‘Will we bring her body back, for a funeral?’ Objo asked, carefully. She wasn''t sure how far Hrae would carry the deception. Hrae shook her head, we’ll send her off here. ‘And the witch?’ Daich asked. Hrae paused, and Objo wondered how she would still the witch’s tongue. ‘No, I’ll hunt her down and kill her where she stands, she is not worthy to bear Lady Nemia’s judgement.’ Ah, so that’s how she would do it. No witnesses, only Hrae’s word. She was glad she had never brought up the visions with the vulture harpy. Her questions would undoubtedly have been heresy to the older bird. Would she have told Nemia of her misgivings? Would she too have been unmade? Or would Hrae merely kill her where she stood?


    Bia’s funeral pyre was much smaller than Vaara’s had been. Objo and Daich had laid the flowers she had fallen on upon her, but Hrae didn’t allow them to light a feather for her, hurrying them back to the flock so she could hunt down the missing witch. The flowers seemed to already be a concession, and Objo was unwilling to draw ire from her already precarious position with the older harpy, though she slipped one of her feathers into Bia’s unmade hand. She saw a black feather peeking out from within her other hand, Daich had subtlety followed suit. Choosing a black wingtip feather instead of her many more flamboyant red. Was there a meaning in that? Black for mourning, one of her critical primary feathers for steering rather than one that wouldn’t be as missed.


    It still didn''t feel like enough.