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the bear, sapping his own will of hope and resolve.
What chance do we have against the bear? he said. I mean, really, what chance
do we have?
I don t know, said Renn.
How are we going to find the other two pieces of the Nanuak? Oldest of all, the
stone bite. Coldest of all, the darkest light. What does that even mean?
Renn did not reply.
At last he dragged his gaze from the sky, and sat down by the fire. The red eye
seemed to glare at him even from the embers.
Behind him, Renn stirred. Look, Torak, it s the First Tree!
He raised his head.
The eye had been blotted out. Instead, a silent, ever changing green glow filled the
sky. Now a vast swathe of light twisted in a voiceless wind; then the swathe
vanished, and shimmering pale-green waves rippled across the stars. The First Tree
stretched for ever, shining its miraculous fire upon the Forest.
As Torak gazed at it, a spark of hope re-kindled. He d always loved watching the
First Tree on frosty nights, while Fa told the story of the Beginning. The First Tree.
meant good luck in hunting; maybe it would bring luck to him, too.
I think it s a good sign, said Renn as if she d heard his thoughts. I ve been
wondering. Was it really luck that you found the Nanuak? I mean, why did you fall
into the very part of the river where it lay? I don t think that was by chance. I think
- you were meant to find it.
He threw her a questioning glance.
Maybe, she said slowly, the Nanuak was put in your way, but then it was up to
you to decide what to do about it. When you saw it at the bottom of the river, you
could have decided it was too dangerous to try for. But you didn t. You risked your
life to get it. Maybe - that was part of the test.
It was a good thought, and it made Torak feel a little better. He fell asleep watching
the silent green boughs of the First Tree, while Wolf sped out of the cave on some
mysterious errand of his own.
Wolf left the Den and loped up to the ridge above the valley to catch the smell on
the wind: a powerful smell of rotten prey like a very old kill - except that it moved.
As he ran, Wolf felt with joy how his pads were toughening, his limbs getting
stronger with every Dark that passed. He loved to run, and he wished that Tall
Tailless did too. But at times his pack-brother could be terribly slow.
As Wolf neared the ridge, he heard the roar of the Thundering Wet, and the sound
of a hare feeding in the next valley. Overhead, he saw the Bright White Eye with
her or many little cubs. It was all as it should be. Except for that smell.
At the top of the ridge he lifted his muzzle to catch the scent-laden winds, and
again he caught it: quite close, and coming closer. Racing back into the valley, he
soon found it: the strange, shuffling thing that smelt so rotten.
He got near enough to observe it clearly in the dark, although he was careful not to
let it know that he was near. To his surprise he found that it was not an old kill after
all.
It had breath and claws, and it moved in an odd shambling walk, growling to itself
while the spit trailed from its muzzle.
What puzzled Wolf most was that he couldn t catch what it was feeling. Its mind
seemed broken; scattered like old bones. Wolf had never sensed such a thing
before.
He watched it make its way up the slope towards the Den where the tailless were
sleeping. It prowled closer&
Just as Wolf was about to attack, it shook itself and shambled away. But through
the tangle of its broke thoughts, Wolf sensed that it would be back.
The fog stole up on them like a thief in the night.
When Torak crawled stiffly from his sleeping-sack, the valley below had
disappeared. T he Breath of the World Spirit had swallowed it whole.
He yawned. Wolf had woken him often in the night, racing about and uttering
urgent half-barks: kill smell-watch. It didn t make sense. Every time Torak went to
look, there was nothing but a stink of carrion and an uneasy feeling of being
watched.
Maybe he just hates fog, said Renn grumpily as she rolled up her sleeping-sack. I
know I do. In fog, nothing s what it seems.
I don t think it s that, said Torak, watching Wolf snuffing the air.
Well what is it, then?
I don t know. It s as if something s out there. Not the bear. Not the Ravens.
Something else.
What do you mean?
I told you, I don t know. But we should be on our guard. Thoughtfully, he put
more wood on the fire to heat up the rest of the stew for day meal.
With an anxious frown, Renn counted their arrows. Twenty between us. Not
nearly enough. Do you know how to knap flint?
Torak shook his head. My hands aren t strong enough. Fa was going to teach me
next summer. What about you?
The same. We ll have to be careful. There s no telling how far it is to the
Mountain. And we ll need more meat.
Maybe we ll catch something today.
In this fog?
She was right. The fog was so thick that they couldn t see Wolf five paces ahead. It
was the kind that the clans call the smoke-frost: an icy breath that descends from
the High Mountains at the start of winter, blackening berries and sending small
creatures scuttling for their burrows.
Wolf led them along an auroch trail that wound north up the side of the valley: a
chilly climb through frost-brittle bracken. The fog muffled sounds and made
distances hard to judge. Trees loomed with alarming suddenness. Once they shot a
reindeer, only to find that they d hit a log. That meant a frustrating struggle to dig
out the arrowheads, which they couldn t afford to lose. Twice, Torak thought he
saw a figure in the undergrowth, but when he ran to look, he found nothing.
It took all morning to climb the ridge, and all afternoon to scramble down into the
next valley, where a silent pine forest guarded a slumbering river.
Do you realize, said Renn as they huddled in a hasty shelter after a cheerless night
meal, that we haven t seen a single reindeer? They should be everywhere by now.
I ve been thinking that too, said Torak. Like Renn, he knew that the snow on the
fells should be driving the herds into the Forest, to grow fat on moss and
mushrooms. Sometimes they ate so many mushrooms that they even tasted of them.
What will the clans do if the reindeer don t come? said Renn.
Torak didn t answer. Reindeer meant survival: meat, bedding and clothes.
He wondered what he was going to do for winter clothes. Renn had had the
foresight to put hers on before she d left the Raven camp, but she hadn t been able
to steal any for him, so all he had was his summer buckskin, not nearly as warm as
the furry parka and leggings which he and Fa made every autumn.
Even if they did find prey, there d be no time to make clothes. Beyond the fog, the
red eye of the Great Auroch was climbing ever higher.
Torak shut his eyes to push the thought away, and eventually fell into an uneasy
sleep. But whenever he awoke in the night, he caught that strange carrion stink.
Next morning dawned colder and foggier than ever, and even Wolf seemed
dejected as he led them upstream. They reached a fallen oak bridging the river, and
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