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Jaim told me, there was a mighty stag at bay. Several wolves had cornered it. Just as they were attacking the stag, my father’s hound, Raven, came bursting out of the trees. He tore into the wolves, and they ran away. He was a fine dog, Jaim said.”
    “What happened to him?”
    “He and my father died that night. Both had been shot in an ambush. Raven was dying even as he saved the stag.”
    “I never knew Jaim. My daddy speaks of him. He says he was tall as a house and the bravest Rigante ever.”
    “He was tall but only a few inches taller than me.” Kaelin chuckled. “He did seem big, though. I miss him.”
    “I miss my daddy,” said Feargol, blinking back tears.
    Kaelin put his arm around him. “Aye, it is hard when those we love leave the world. No denying it.”
    Outside the sky was lightening. Dawn was not far off. Kaelin took a deep breath. “Go and find your warmest clothes, Feargol. We’ll be leaving soon.”
    “What about the bear?”
    “We are in his territory. If we leave it, maybe—just maybe—he will not follow.”
    “I don’t want to go.”
    “Neither do I, my friend. But it will be safer.” All the while he was talking Kaelin kept watch on the tree line, his musket in his hand. There was no predicting the actions of the bear. Indeed, it was rare to see a grizzly out in such weather. Under normal circumstances it would have been hibernating.
    As the dawn approached, Kaelin pulled on his heavy topcoat and climbed out of the shattered doorway. The world outside was white and alien and unnaturally silent. Cocking the musket, he moved out into the open and scanned the trees. The tracks of the bear headed off toward the north. Kaelin edged around the hut. By the wood store was a sled, neatly made with polished runners. It was around five feet long. He had seen Basson and Feargol playing on it the previous winter. Sadness touched him, and he glanced at the tree to which Basson’s dead body still clung.
    Returning to the cabin, Kaelin helped Feargol dress, placing a wool-lined hooded coat over his clothes and finding him two sets of mittens. Outside once more, he pulled the sled clear of the wood store, placing his pack inside it. The rope handles were frozen, but he brushed the ice clear and dragged the sled out onto open ground. It slid easily. Returning to the cabin, he fetched the spear and Finbarr’s pistol and musket. Those he also placed in the sled. The spear jutted out over the rear. Finding his snowshoes, he strapped them on, and called Feargol out. The little boy peeked out, then ran to stand alongside Kaelin.
    “We are going to take the sled,” he told him.
    Feargol was not listening. He was staring horrified at his brother in the tree. “Basson!” he called out.
    “Shhh!” said Kaelin, dropping down to kneel alongside the child. “We must make no noise.”
    “He won’t come down!” wailed Feargol.
    “Listen to me, little friend. Listen to me. Basson is dead. He can’t be hurt anymore. We must get you home. Then I’ll come back and look after Basson.” Feargol began to cry. Kaelin drew him in close and kissed his cheek. “Be brave for a little while longer. Now climb in the sled.”
    “Basson says he’s frightened of the bear,” said Feargol. “Tell him to come down.”
    “He is safe where he is, Feargol. The bear cannot get him. I’ll come back for him when I have you safe at Ironlatch. I promise. Get into the sled.”
    The boy slid in alongside the musket. “Hold on to the spear,” said Kaelin. “Don’t let it fall out.” Holding his musket over his shoulder, Kaelin took hold of the rope with his left hand and began to drag the sled toward the long downward slope, glancing back constantly to see if the beast had returned. After a quarter of an hour they reached the crest, and Kaelin stopped. Ahead was a steep dip of around half a mile, ending in the frozen river. Removing his snowshoes, Kaelin wedged them into the sled. He glanced back.
    The bear was at