Instead her hand found a snow-encrusted branch. A few feet away the boar lay on its side, steaming and panting.
She pulled herself upright. The spur here had widened out into a hill, with a few frosted trees on it.
The dogs had reached the gap and were milling round, struggling to prevent themselves slipping.
They could easily clear the distance, she could see. Even the boar had managed it with her on its back. She put both hands around the branch and heaved; it came away with a crack, like a broken icicle, and she waved it like a club.
'Come on,' she said. 'Jump! Just you try it! Come on!'
One did. The branch caught it as it landed, and then Susan spun and brought the branch around on the upswing, lifted the dazed animal off its feet and out over the edge.
For a moment the shape wavered and then, howling, it dropped out of sight.
She danced a few steps of rage and triumph.
'Yes! Yes! Who wants some? Anyone else?'
The other dogs looked her in the eye, decided that no one did, and that there wasn't. Finally, after one or two nervous attempts, they managed to turn, still sliding, and tried to make it back to the plateau.
A figure barred their way.
It hadn't been there a moment ago but it looked permanent now. It seemed to have been made of snow, three balls of snow piled on one another. It had black dots for eyes. A semi-circle of more dots formed the semblance of a mouth. There was a carrot for the nose.
And, for the arms, two twigs.
At this distance, anyway.
One of them was holding a curved stick.
A raven wearing a damp piece of red paper landed on one arm.
'Bob bob bob?' it suggested. 'Merry Solstice? Tweetie tweet? What are you waiting for? Hogswatch?'
The dogs backed away.
The snow broke off the snowman in chunks, revealing a gaunt figure in a flapping black robe.
Death spat out the carrot.
HO. HO. HO.
The grey bodies smeared and rippled as the hounds sought desperately to change their shape.
YOU COULDN'T RESIST IT? IN THE END? A MISTAKE, I FANCY.
He touched the scythe. There was a click as the blade flashed into life.
IT GETS UNDER YOUR SKIN, LIFE, said Death, stepping forward. SPEAKING METAPHORICALLY, OF COURSE. IT'S A HABIT THAT'S HARD TO GIVE UP. ONE PUFF OF BREATH IS NEVER ENOUGH. YOU'LL FIND YOU WANT TO TAKE ANOTHER.
A dog started to slip on the snow and scrabbled desperately to save itself from the long, cold drop.
AND, YOU SEE, THE MORE YOU STRUGGLE FOR EVERY MOMENT, THE MORE ALIVE YOU STAY... WHICH IS WHERE I COME IN, AS A MATTER OF FACT.
The leading dog managed, for a moment, to become a grey led figure before being dragged back into shape.
FEAR, TOO, IS AN ANCHOR, said Death. ALL THOSE SENSES, WIDE OPEN TO EVERY FRAGMENT OF THE WORLD. THAT BEATING HEART. THAT RUSH OF BLOOD. CAN YOU NOT FEEL IT, DRAGGING YOU BACK?
Once again the Auditor managed to retain a shape for a few seconds, and managed to say: 'You cannot do this, there are rules!'
YES. THERE ARE RULES. BUT YOU BROKE THEM. HOW DARE YOU? HOW DARE YOU?
The scythe blade was a thin blue outline in the grey light.
Death raised a thin finger to where his lips might have been, and suddenly looked thoughtful.
AND NOW THERE REMAINS ONLY ONE FINAL QUESTION, he said.
He raised his hands, and seemed to grow. Light flared in his eye sockets. When he spoke next, avalanches fell in the mountains.
HAVE YOU BEEN NAUGHTY... OR NICE? HO. HO. HO.
Susan heard the wails die away.
The boar lay in white snow that was now red with blood. She knelt down and tried to lift its head.
It was dead. One eye stared at nothing. The tongue lolled.
Sobs welled up inside her. The tiny part of Susan that watched, the inner baby-sitter, said it was just exhaustion and excitement and the backwash of adrenalin. She couldn't be crying over a dead pig.
The rest of her drummed on its flank with both fists.
'No, you can't! We saved you! Dying isn't how it's supposed to go!'
A breeze blew up.
Something stirred in the landscape, something under the snow. The branches on the ancient trees shook gently, dislodging little needles of ice.
The sun rose.
The light streamed over Susan like a silent gale. It was dazzling. She crouched back, raising her forearm to cover her eyes. The great red ball turned frost to fire along the winter branches.
Cold light slammed into the mountain peaks, making every one a blinding, silent volcano. It rolled onward, gushing into the valleys and thundering up the slopes, unstoppable...
There was a groan.
A man lay in the snow where the boar had been.
He was naked except for an animal skin loincloth. His hair was long and had been woven into a thick plait down his back, so matted with blood and grease that it looked like felt. And he was bleeding everywhere the hounds had caught him.
Susan watched for a moment, and then, thinking with something other than her head, methodically tore some strips from her petticoat to bandage the more unpleasant wounds.
Capability, said the small part of her mind. A rational head in emergencies.
Rational something, anyway.
It's probably some kind of character flaw.
The man was tattooed. Blue whorls and spirals haunted his skin, under the blood.
He opened his eyes and stared at the sky.
'Can you get up?'
His gaze flicked to her. He tried moving and then fell back.
Eventually she managed to pull the man up into a sitting position. He swayed as she put one of his arms across her shoulders and then heaved him to his feet. She did her best to ignore the sting, which had an almost physical force.
Downhill seemed the best option. Even if his brain wasn't working yet, his feet seemed to get the idea.
They lurched down through the freezing woods, the snow glowing orange in the risen sun. Cold blue gloom lurked in hollows like little cups of winter.
Beside her, the tattooed man made a gurgling sound. He slipped out of her grasp and landed on his knees in the snow, clutching at his throat and choking. His breath sounded like a saw.
'What now? What's the matter? What's the matter?'
He rolled his eyes at her and pawed at his throat again.
'Something stuck?' She slapped him as hard as she could on the back, but now he was on his hands and knees, fighting for breath.
She put her hands under his shoulders and pulled him upright, and put her arms around his waist. Oh, gods, how was it supposed to go, she'd gone to classes about it, now, didn't you have to bunch up one fist and then put the other hand around it and then pull up and in like this...
The man coughed and something bounced off a tree and landed in the snow.
She knelt down to have a look.
It was a small black bean.
A bird trilled, high on a branch. She looked up. A wren bobbed at her and fluttered to another twig.
When she looked back, the man was different. He had clothes now, heavy furs, with a fur hood and fur boots. He was supporting himself on a stone-tipped spear, and looked a lot stronger.
Something hurried through the wood, barely visible except by its shadow. For a moment she glimpsed a white hare before it sprang away on a new path.