The elk pit was a mass of limbs and fur, a great-antlered bull-elk with head and shoulders scrabbling on the ground as it tried to heave itself out. It was lowing frantically, clouds of cold breath misting and billowing, a terror and agony in its cries.

Because something else was in the pit with it. Or part of it was, its bulk too great for the pit to contain.

Behind the thrashing elk Drem caught a glimpse of white fur, of long claws and a wide, gaping maw full of teeth as they clamped down upon the bull-elk’s muscled neck.

A bear. A giant bear. What’s it doing here, so far south of the Bonefells?

Scythe-like claws opened up bloody tracks across the elk’s chest, the bear gave a vicious shake of its head and Drem heard the crack of bones breaking, the elk slumping, slipping slowly back into the pit.

Even through the fog of shock, Drem realized he’d never seen a white bear before. Beside him his father stood as frozen as he was, awestruck by the savage power before them.

‘What do we do?’ Drem whispered.

The bear’s head reared up from the pit, jaws red with gore, white fur stained pink, and it looked straight at them.

‘Run like hell,’ his da said, pushing Drem back up the path. In a handful of heartbeats they were both sprinting, legs pumping, behind them the sound of the bear extricating itself from the elk and pit, the thunder of its gait as it lumbered after them, Drem feeling the ground shaking beneath his feet.

They ran amongst pine trees, where the ground was spongy with forest litter and pine needles. Drem’s heart felt it was bursting though his chest, a great crashing behind them as the bear barrelled into a tree, the sound of wood splintering. Then sudden pain, Drem’s foot plunging into a hole, his body flying through the air, crunching to the ground. He tried to rise, but a sharp pain shot up his ankle into his leg and he dropped to the ground.

He rolled onto his back, saw the bear powering towards him, a mountain of fur and muscle blotting all else out, small eyes gleaming in its huge head. Fear coursed through Drem. Bone-chilling, limb-numbing fear. He knew he should do something, move, run, hobble, anything, as death hurtled closer and closer, but he could do nothing, only stare wide-eyed as it came to claim him.

And then his da was standing over him, axe and knife in his fists.

‘Run, Da,’ Drem wheezed.