Drem looked about, saw he’d been carried back to the porch and was sitting up now on a bench under a window. His back was wet from snow-melt.

‘What’re they doing here?’

‘They’re leading a bear-hunt; thought we might like to join them. Arrived just in time.’

‘I’m in definite agreement there,’ Drem said, touching his throat. The skin was raw, weeping in places from rope-burn. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Aye,’ his da said, ‘though I wouldn’t have been if Hildith had arrived a hundred heartbeats later.’

‘And the others, those trappers and miners?’

‘They’re still here. Ulf has threatened them, and there’s more swords at his back than there are behind Burg.’

‘Who?’

‘Their leader. The bald one with the scar. So they’ll abide by Ulf’s word. For now.’

‘For now,’ Drem muttered, sitting up, rising slowly. He looked about, saw men and horses milling about their courtyard, a few braces of hounds baying excitedly. Wispy Beard was giving him a dark look. Drem looked away, saw a row of bodies stretched out upon the porch, seven of them with cloaks wrapped about them.

‘There’s blood feud now,’ Olin said. ‘This will only get worse.’ He lowered his voice, handing Drem back his seax and axe. ‘It’s time for us to leave the north.’

‘Couldn’t agree more,’ Drem said, the thought of getting away from this murderous bunch a happy thought, though oddly his next thought was of Fritha kissing his cheek beneath snow-heavy boughs.

Maybe she could come with us. Don’t like the thought of leaving her here with the likes of them about.

He shot Burg and Wispy and their crew a dark look as he slipped his weapons back into their sheaths and loops at his belt. As he did so, he felt the hilt of his new sword, realized he hadn’t even thought of using it during the fight.

‘Habit.’ His da shrugged, seeing his look. ‘Besides, it was close-quarter fighting, you made a good choice.’

‘Did I?’

‘You’re still breathing, but there’s two down there that aren’t, and that’s because of you.’

Drem felt that like a punch, somewhere deep inside. Two lives, gone, because of him. He looked at the shape of their bodies beneath their cloaks, once men who laughed, loved, smiled, swore, now reduced to sacks of meat and bone.

‘Would you rather it was you down there, instead of them?’ his da said, watching his face closely.

‘No,’ Drem said, no hesitation there.

‘That’s all there is to it,’ his da said. ‘You didn’t go looking for blood, didn’t make this happen. Sometimes you can only respond, and sometimes the only answer is—’

‘Blood and steel,’ Drem finished.