That lack of contact turned Raif cold. It was the difference between life and death.

Was that what a heart-kill felt like?

Nothing.

Springing into motion, Raif followed Addie along the path.

They traveled in silence for the rest of the day, stopping once to eat the remains of last night's ptarmigan and search a likely patch of undergrowth for eggs. The cragsman made a point of not watching over Raif, though if it was possible to keep an eye on someone without looking at them that was what Addie was doing. Raif felt odd. Light and not quite sane. He kept seeing the failed footstep and hearing Traggis Mole say, Swear it.

They reached the stream about an hour before dark. Snowmelt was running in its middle, skirling over rocks and jammed pine cones. They could have jumped it easily—it wouldn't have even needed a run up—but Addie set about walking upstream. The snow was thicker here and there were more dead trees. Raif thought he caught a whiff of woodsmoke, but when he looked to Addie to confirm it the cragsman's face gave nothing away.

"Here," Addie said, coming to a halt a few minutes later. "It's as good a place as any to set camp."

Three big cedars formed a thick triangle of cover hard along the bank. A root from the largest tree cut right across the stream, forming a spillway where the water widened and slowed before tipping over the root branch and continuing on its way. Addie's gaze dared Raif to find fault. Raif did not. Squatting by the spillway, he stripped off his gloves, scooped up two handfuls of water and threw them over his face. The iciness was startling but it didn't alter the lightness in his head.

That night he did not sleep. He suspected Addie didn't get much rest either, for the cragsman had made himself a bed out of pine boughs that crunched every time he rolled over—and they crunched a lot. They were both short-tempered as they took their morning drink of boiled water. Addie told Raif to fill the waterskins with stream water and when Raif didn't jump to the task quick enough for his liking he found fault. Raif dropped the skins in the snow and went for a piss. How was it his fault that he had ended up with a piece of shadow lodged next to his heart?

Addie's spirits improved as the morning wore on. For once it didn't snow and it looked as if the wind might break up the clouds. After they crossed the stream they decided to head out of the trees. Snow dumps were beginning to happen and the thought of being caught under a tree shedding a half-ton of snow was not comforting. Occasionally Addie would dart from the path, checking ground cover, snowbanks and rock piles for nests.

"Raif. Take a look at this."

Raif had gone on ahead while Addie investigated the area surrounding a recently fallen cedar, and Raif had to backtrack to join him. He found the cragsman staring at one of the grounded cedar bows, holding his stick above the foliage like a spear. Only when Raif drew abreast of him did he see it: a cast iron tooth-jawed bow trap built to spring a bear.

"Nearly stepped on the paddle. It was hidden in the branches." Addie shook his head at it. "Fetch me a log. I'm going to trigger it."

Raif pried off one of the thick lower branches of the fallen cedar, and then watched as Addie jabbed it against the paddle. Crack. The branch was crushed to wood chips as the jaws snapped shut.

"Bastards," Addie said quietly. "Lost two sheep to traps like this." Shaking his head, he picked up his walking stick and turned to Raif. "At least now we know we can head to the smoke."

"It's not Sull?"

"They wouldn't insult big game by trapping it. It's not clannish by the looks of it either, though you never know. Could have been traded. What I can say is that men who set this—and it was recently set, see how there's no snow between the coils—are cowards and varmints. And I'll take them over Sull any day."

Raif opened his mouth to speak, but Addie halted him by raising his stick.

"No. We need some medicine for that… that thing in your back. And so help me Gods I'm going to trade for some tea."

Raif didn't have the heart to tell him that he didn't think medicine would work.

It didn't take Addie long to find the trappers' path, and they followed it south and a little west through the trees. A cube of spat chewing curd, an apple core, and a ragged piece of leather fringe were duly noted by the cragsman along the way. After holding the trail for the better part of an hour they knew they were getting close. The smell of woodsmoke was so strong you could taste it in your mouth, and the chunk of logs being split with an ax rang through the woods.

Addie wanted to c Jitinue down the path, but Raif stopped him. "Let's approach the camp from the back."

"Ain't neighborly," Addie said, by way of agreement.

The trappers' camp consisted of a large A-frame tent overhung with moose felts, two large wooden stretching frames for big game, a log pile and chopping block, a firepit hung with cookirons and a smoking rack, two cross sections of tree trunk that looked like they were used as seats, various cache bags strung from the nearest cedar and a butchering circle where the snow was trampled with blood. The man who was quartering logs with a small hand ax was tall and rangy. His skin was the color of red clay.

"Trenchlander," Addie murmured. "Poor cousins of the Sull." They were crouching amidst a small copse of cedar saplings about ninety feet behind the camp. Raif watched the axman carefully, reassuring himself that the man's rhythm hadn't changed and that his focus remained on his work. Raif wondered about the location of horses and pack animals, but then decided the A-frame was large enough to hold livestock.

"Bear pelts fetch a tidy sum in Hell's Town," Addie whispered, "and they sell the gall bladders to traders from the south."

Raif nodded, barely listening. He was fairly sure now that the axman was unaware of their presence. That was good. It meant he lacked the exquisite senses of purebred Sull. "He's probably not alone," Raif said quietly. "Aye. Maybe his friends're off walking the trap rounds. Shall we?" Raif felt a sudden twinge in his shouder, but ignored it. "Lead the way."

To disguise the fact they had sneaked up on the Trenchlanders' camp, they made their way partway to the front and then created a great deal of noise stomping through the remaining trees and snow. Addie began talking in a loud voice, telling some story about the time he'd got drunk in a stovehouse and singed off most of his hair. Abruptly, he halted the tale midway and hailed, "Friend! Good day to you!"

The axman had stopped chopping but he still held his ax. He had sunken cheeks and there was slack skin around his jaw. Frostbite had rotted the tips of both his ears. Like Ilya Spinebreaker before him, he inspected Raif's cloak and bow. Addie put up his hands, elbowing Raif along the way to do the same. Raif briefly showed the man his bare palms. "Trade," Addie proclaimed loudly, rubbing his thumbs and fingers together. "Fair exchange of goods."

Finally the man reacted. Thumping the flat of the ax in his free hand, he said, 'Tree. Over there." He waited for them to locate it with their gazes. "Tall man. Stick sword. Then talk trade."

His accent was heavy and his command of Common incomplete, but Raif understood him well enough. Leaving Addie's side Raif crossed over to the tree and drew Traggis Mole's longknife. With a light jab he embedded the point in the bark. At eye level. Turning on his heel he locked gazes with the Trenchlander. «Done» Addie declared.

The Trenchlander did not allow them the fellowship of the tent and indicated they sit by the fire on sawn-off logs. Addie was offended by this lack of hospitality, but Raif preferred it. This way he could keep an eye on his blade. As the Trenchlander unhooked the pot suspended above the flames, Raif heard the sound of braying coming from inside the A-frame. Possibly a donkey or a mule. Once the lidded pot was at the Trenchlander's feet, he deftly tossed three iron thumb cups into the fire. After a few seconds he fished them out one by one with his notched stick. When he poured broth into them it sizzled and spat, shooting out the aroma of meat and peppery herbs. The Trenchlander looked from Addie to Raif as the cup cooled.