He was not looking at us, and Shun made a small motion, bidding me come out of the den. I did, moving softly, and stood well back in the shadows. “I’m going to fetch more wood and build up the fire,” he told us, and walked away into the night. We heard a horse snort and stomp. He spoke to it and walked on. Shun made a brief run and leapt the stream. I followed her immediately.

She knelt by the fire. “I don’t think it’s cooked yet.”

“I don’t care,” I replied.

She took the spit off the fire and waved the bird about to cool it a bit. It flew off the spit and into the snow. I sprang on it, picked it up, and tore it in half. Some parts were too hot, some were cold from the snow, and some were raw. We ate it standing, making small huffing noises as we hit the hot places. I could hear Shun swallow, and the cartilage crackling in her teeth as she ate the ends off the bones. It was not a large bird and was too soon gone but I found myself panting with relief at the easing of my hunger. “The horse,” Shun said. I didn’t want to leave the fire but I knew she was right. I felt not a morsel of shame for eating his food and stealing his horse. I followed Shun to where we had heard the animals. After the firelight, it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. Two horses. A brown one and a white one, both hobbled. Their saddles were stacked nearby. I looked at Shun. I’d never saddled a horse before. Nor removed hobbles.

“Be careful,” I whispered as she crouched down by the white horse’s front legs. I saw her groping for the straps.

“I can’t feel how they come off.”

“Take off your mittens.” I was struggling with one of the saddles. I could barely lift it to drag it. How would I get it up on the horse’s back?

“Do they tie?”

“No. They buckle.” Kerf spoke from just behind us. “Let me put the wood by the fire and I’ll unhobble them. If you truly want to go riding off into the dark.”

We froze as we were. I felt only a little ashamed. Shun straightened up. “I won’t be in your debt. You were in league with those who stole us. So we owe you nothing for your righting the wrong done to us.”

“I know that.” He walked to the fire and dropped the wood. He crouched and carefully added a stick. He appeared not to notice that we’d eaten the bird he’d been cooking. “I’m here for one reason. To take you back to your people.”

“And you expect no favors from me for your ‘kindness’?” Shun asked sarcastically.

“None.” He looked at her guilelessly. “I won’t deny that I find you beautiful. I think you must already know that from how I look at you. But I understand you owe me nothing. I won’t try to take advantage of you.”

It was as if he had stolen all our weapons from us. Slowly we walked back to his fire. I held my dirty hands out to the flames and felt the warmth on my face. He was well supplied. He unrolled a piece of canvas so that Shun and I might sleep on it near the fire. We had to crowd to fit, but it was warmer that way. He had another piece for himself, and bedded down on the other side of the fire.

“I still don’t trust him,” I breathed to Shun as I hovered at the edge of sleep. She said nothing.

He knew how to get food. The next morning when we woke, he had already built up the fire and had a lean winter hare cooking over it. I lay still, curled in the weight of my too-large coat, and watched him as he did things to his bow and to the arrow that had slain the hare. I wondered if he was the one who had shot at Perseverance and me as we fled. The one who had shot my friend. It was still hard for me to recall parts of that day. The moments when the fog man had focused on me were all gone. But I knew they had not gone back to look for the boy they had shot. I had only that one passing glimpse of him. I hoped he had returned to Withywoods and not been too badly hurt. I suddenly recalled Steward Revel, dead in the corridor, and a deep sob ambushed me. It woke Shun.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, and sat up quickly, staring at Kerf.

“They killed Steward Revel,” I choked out.

Her eyes flicked to me and then back to Kerf. “Did they?” she asked flatly, but it wasn’t really a question. Shun and I had spoken very little of what we had experienced and witnessed that day. We had been too drugged with the brown soup and too focused on getting from one moment to the next. There had been no privacy for comparing what we’d seen. Neither of us had wanted to bare our wounds in front of our captors. “Stop crying,” she said to me, and by that sharp rebuke, I knew she still considered Kerf our enemy. Show no weakness before him.