The snow here was thick and deep, and they had been forced to use snowshoes. Chara knew this area well, and, close to dusk, she headed them towards a cliff face where there were several shallow caves. At the first Draig began to remove his pack. ‘Leave it,’ said Chara. ‘We will not be staying here.’
‘Why?’ asked Eain. ‘It’s shelter, isn’t it?’
Chara was too tired to answer, and having checked the interior moved out once more into the wind and the snow. Draig followed her. Eain brought up the rear, too weary to complain. After a brief survey of the second cave she moved out again.
This time Draig asked her what she was looking for. Feargol, walking now beside the big highlander, looked up at him. ‘She is seeking the cave where Uncle Kaelin left firewood,’ he said.
A few minutes later Chara entered a third cave. Draig stepped in behind her, and saw a large stack of dry wood set against the far wall. ‘Uncle Kaelin says a man should always be prepared,’ said Feargol. ‘He has hiding places like this everywhere.’
‘A clever man, your uncle,’ muttered Draig, slipping his pack from his shoulder. Pulling off his thick woollen gloves he rubbed at his fingers, trying to thaw them. Eain had slumped down by the wall, lacking even the energy to remove his pack. Chara glanced at Draig. Now they had stopped he saw the fear in her eyes. ‘I wish it would snow,’ he said.
‘How can you want more snow?’ muttered Eain. ‘I’ve seen enough snow to last me a lifetime.’
‘To cover our tracks,’ Draig told him. ‘A blind man could follow us.’
‘There’s a nice thought. Help me with the pack, will you?’
Draig stepped across to where his brother sat and eased the pack from his shoulders. Feargol had begun to build a fire. Draig moved alongside him, squatting down. ‘No, lad, find the tiniest twigs first. You can’t light a log with a spark. Logs come later.’
Within minutes a small fire was burning within a circle of stones. At first there was precious little warmth. Little Jaim came over and sat beside Draig, who ruffled the child’s dark hair. ‘Don’t sit too close now,’ he said. ‘It might spit sparks.’
‘My hands is cold,’ said Jaim.
‘They’ll be warm soon.’
Draig added another chunk of wood to the blaze. Then he stood and wandered back to the cave mouth. It was already dark outside. He trudged through the snow for a short distance then turned to look back at the cave. Kaelin had chosen it well. It was deep and curved, the fire casting no flickering light against the wall close to the entrance. Not that it mattered, he realized, staring out at the tracks they had made coming here. The wind would eventually fill them in, but not before Tostig found their shelter, he knew. What then? Draig’s mood was sombre as he made his way back to the cave.
‘You see anything?’ Chara asked him, as he slumped down by the fire.
‘Only our tracks.’
Eain was at the fire now, preparing his cook pot. Feargol asked him if he needed more snow to melt. Eain nodded and the child took a wooden bowl and ran out past Draig, disappearing from sight. Jaim toddled after him, but Chara called him back. Draig removed his bearskin coat. Chara was still sitting by the far wall, her musket close by.
‘Boy looks like his father,’ he said, nodding towards Jaim. ‘Though he has your eyes.’
Chara said nothing.
‘I had a son,’ he went on. ‘A boy. Died when he was two.’ He did not stare at her as he spoke, but out of the corner of his eye he saw her relax a little.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Me too. Had a fever. Recovered. We were that happy, I can tell you. Then he just slipped away in his sleep. Fever took too much out of him, I guess.’
‘I didn’t know you were wed,’ said Chara.
‘Aye, I was. She left me . . . four years ago this coming spring. Don’t blame her. Never was much of a husband.’