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"No," Ar-Khalba replied. "One should not hate the dead." Hatred, in fact, went against Ar-Khalba's entire philosophy. Negative emotions like hatred and anger could easily corrupt the pure at heart, and if he allowed those emotions birth, they would get in the way of his fulfilment of his duty to the Malkaria and Molech. Instead, he regarded his youth with stoic detachment.

"My abductor did not take me far," he continued. "We crossed paths with a group of women from the neighboring territory of Surrendra. A scouting party was tracking a herd in the southlands. So, I kicked. I screamed. I begged for help. They heard my cries and struck the man who took me dead." Ar-Khalba could vividly remember the scent of blood and fear, and how terrified he had been when he saw the largest of his three saviors rend the throat from the abducting coyote's body.