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walk. Torak watched Fin-Kedinn turning his head from side to side. He'd never felt so powerless.
     
Renn told him to fetch wood for a fire, and he ran off. His hands were shaking and he kept dropping sticks. He thought, If that beech had fallen just a little differently, it would have crushed his breastbone, and we'd be putting on Death Marks. It would be my fault. I could have killed us all.
     
From where he stood, the hill sloped down to the Blackwater. A deer trail wound along its bank, past one of the stone jaws, and into the Deep Forest. He pictured the Oak Mage vanishing into the shadows. He had been so close.
     
Back at the ledge, Fin-Kedinn had slipped into an uneasy doze, and Renn was on her knees with a handful of birch-bark tinder, grimly trying and failing to get a spark with her strike-fire. "Well, go on then," she said without looking up.
    "What do you mean?" said Torak.
"Go after him. That's what you want."
He stared at her. "I'm not leaving you."
"But you want to."
He flinched.
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"It'll take days to get Fin-Kedinn back to the clan," she said, still failing to get a spark. "And all the time, Thiazzi's getting away. That's what you're thinking, isn't it?" "Renn--"
"You never wanted us to come!" she burst out. "Well, here's your chance to be rid of us!"
"Renn!"
They faced each other, white and shaking.
"I won't leave you," said Torak. "In the morning I'll bring around the canoes. Then we'll figure out what to do."
Savagely, Renn struck a spark. Her lips trembled as she blew life into it.
Torak went down on his knees and helped feed the fire with kindling, then sticks. When it was fully awake, he took her hand, and she gripped so hard that it hurt. "He's beaten us," she said.
"For now," he replied.
Night deepened, and the sliver of moon fled across the sky. Renn said they should take comfort from it; it would grow stronger, and so would Fin-Kedinn. Torak thought she was trying very hard to persuade herself.
     
While she tended Fin-Kedinn, he fetched their gear from the canoes, then used branches to turn the ledge into a rough shelter, leaving a gap for the smoke. He'd found
     
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    a clump of comfrey near the river, and Renn pounded its roots into a poultice, while Torak made the leaves into a strengthening brew in a swiftly fashioned birch-bark bowl. Together, they bandaged Fin-Kedinn's ribs. The binding had to be tight, to help set the broken bones. When it was done, all three of them were sweating and pale.
    After that, Renn fed the fire with juniper boughs and wafted some of the smoke into the shelter to drive off the worms of sickness. Torak tucked a slip of dried horse meat in a crack in a boulder to thank the Forest for letting his foster father live. Then, as they were both famished, they shared more meat. Fin-Kedinn did not eat at all.
    The moon set, and his restlessness increased. "Don't let the fire die," he murmured. "Renn. Draw lines of power around the shelter."
Renn gave Torak a worried look. If his wits were wandering, it was a bad sign.
Torak noticed that the ravens hadn't settled to roost, but were hopping warily among the rocks, while Wolf lay at the mouth of the shelter, watching the dark beyond the firelight. Torak had the uneasy sense that they were on guard.
    Renn took her medicine pouch and went to draw the lines.
"Don't go far," warned Fin-Kedinn.
Torak fed the fire another stick. "You said this was a
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bad place. What did you mean?"
Fin-Kedinn watched the flames. "Nothing grows here now. Nothing has since--the demons were forced back into the rocks." He paused. "But they're close, Torak. They want to get out."
     
Torak dipped a clump of moss in the cup and cooled his foster father's brow. Renn would be angry if he let Fin-Kedinn talk, but he had to know. "Tell me," he said.
    Fin-Kedinn coughed, and Torak held his shoulders. When it was over, the skin around the Raven Leader's eyes had a bluish tinge. "Many summers ago," he said, "this hill was thick with trees. Birch, rowan, in