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above the rapids and chilled Torak's blood.
Men and women came running down the trail.
Torak gasped.
That wasn't a log floating downriver.
It was Oslak.
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Chapter SIX
Oslak had taken no chances. He'd gnawed through his bindings, slipped out of the sickness shelter, and climbed the Guardian Rock. Then he'd thrown himself off. The fall had probably killed him. At least--Torak hoped so. He couldn't bear to think of him being alive when he'd hit the rapids.
The Raven camp was stunned into silence when he reached it. Vedna had stopped keening and stood stony faced, watching the men bring the body on a litter. They took great care not to touch it with their bare hands. No one wanted to risk angering the dead man's
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souls, which were still in the camp.
    As they set down the litter by Oslak's shelter, Saeunn crouched beside it, and--with her finger protected by a leather guard--daubed the Death Marks in red ochre on the body, to help the souls stay together on their journey. Soon the Ravens would carry him into the Forest. It was vital that this be done swiftly, so that his souls would not be tempted to stay in camp.
    Fin-Kedinn stood a little apart, his face a mask of granite. He betrayed no grief as he gave orders to double the watch on Bera, and to empty Oslak's shelter of all but his belongings, which would be burned when it was put to the fire. But Torak could tell that he was taking it hard. The Raven Leader had told Oslak that he would keep him safe. He would not easily forgive himself for having failed.
    Guilt.
Torak felt it too, weighing him down.
Well, the time for doing nothing was over. When the Ravens took the body into the Forest, he would stay behind, not being part of the clan--and that would be his chance to slip away: to make for the Deep Forest, and seek the cure.
    But first there was something he had to do.
As the rites began and women fetched clay for the mourning marks, he made his way quietly to the foot of the Guardian Rock. If his suspicion was right--if the 47
creature with the face of leaves had had anything to do with Oslak's death--then it might have left tracks.
The Guardian Rock was almost sheer on the side that faced the river, but on its eastern side it was more like a steep hill, which could be climbed if one was careful. Many feet had trampled the mud at its base, and some had tracked mud up this eastern flank.
    The message in the mud was confused, but Torak made out a faint line of narrow, day-old prints: that was Saeunn, climbing to the top. He saw paw marks crisscrossed by sharp little four-toed prints: that was a dog scampering up, and being teased by a raven. And over there, a man's prints. Torak saw only the toes and the balls of the feet. Oslak had been running as fast as he could.
    A lump rose in Torak's throat. He forced it down. Grieve later, when you're on your way.
Slowly he followed Oslak's tracks up the rock.
Oslak had dislodged pebbles and moss as he ran. At one point he'd slipped, grazing himself: here was a tiny smear of blood. Then he'd run on. He was running as fast as he could, thought Torak. As if all the demons of the Otherworld were after him.
At the top, Torak found what he'd been dreading. Another set of prints: much smaller than Oslak's. They were faint, but he saw enough to know that whatever had made them had not been running--but standing:
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standing quite still, a short way back from the edge. Watching Oslak leap to his death.
The footprints were small, like those of a child of maybe eight or nine summers.
Except that this print had claws.
The clan was getting ready to leave when Torak found Renn by the long-fire, grinding earthblood for the burial rites.
Her face was streaked with river clay--the Raven way of mourning--but tears had cut runnels down her cheeks. Torak had never seen her cry. As he approached, she blinked hard.
    "Renn," he said, squatting beside her and speaking softly so as not to be overheard, "there's something I've got to tell you. I went up the