The air was bitterly cold and it was snowing heavily. He knew the two of them would struggle to stay alive on the outside. If they set out soon after dawn they could reach the cliff cave by dusk. Kaelin had used it often, and had left a good supply of dry wood there. It would be a hard, strength-sapping walk. Yet what were the choices? When Hang-lip returned Kaelin would shoot him. Would the shots reach his heart? Perhaps. And perhaps was not good enough when he had a child to save. Picturing the long walk to the cliff cave he realized it was almost totally over open ground. If the bear came after them, as he feared it would, there would be nowhere to hide. The lack of options made him angry. To stay would be to invite disaster and death. To go would remove them from the only defensible position, and put them at risk from the awful cold.
Then there was the problem of clothing. Dressing to keep warm would involve many layers of wool, and this would restrict speed of movement. His snowshoes would help over steep drifts, but he would have to carry the boy as well as the pack and the musket, and – perhaps – the spear. Kaelin swore softly.
Looking out into the night he almost wished the bear would return now. Then he could take his shot, and see if he could bring it down.
Feargol came back into the main room, carrying three long knives. ‘Will these do?’ he asked.
One was too thin, but the other two were good, strong blades.
‘Aye, one of these will be fine,’ he told the boy, rubbing his hair. ‘Now fetch the staff.’ Finbarr’s staff was just under six feet long, and fashioned from oak. Finding the dead man’s tools Kaelin took a small hacksaw and cut a channel four inches deep in the staff’s tip. Then, with a hammer, he smashed the horn handle of the knife, releasing the blade. This he inserted into the channel. Feargol watched him as he bound the new spear with twine. Once it was fully tied Kaelin tested the weapon. The blade was still a little loose. Cutting free the twine he retied it more tightly. Satisfied at last, he laid the spear on the floor.
The cold was becoming more intense and Kaelin told Feargol to add more fuel to the fire. The boy obeyed instantly. As soon as he had done it he ran back to sit close to Kaelin. ‘It’s cold over here,’ said the man.
‘I’m all right,’ answered Feargol.
‘What is your soul name?’
‘Moon Lantern.’
‘That’s a good name. Mine is Ravenheart.’
‘Why did your daddy call you that?’
‘On the night I was born – so my uncle 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 round 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 this bear. Indeed, it was rare to see a grizzly out in such weather. In normal circumstances it should have been hibernating.