‘Outside,’ Rab squawked, poking his beak at the open doorway and yard beyond.

He saw it was only a little past dawn as he stepped out of his doorway, the sun a heatless glow clawing its way up over the edge of the world.

What happened to yesterday? I remember Sig cutting me down from the tree, the others. Telling them about the Kadoshim. He frowned, the rest of it a blurred jumble.

In the yard Sig, Keld and Cullen were standing, swords in their fists, shields slung across their backs, performing the sword dance. Drem recognized it instantly from what his da had taught him, though watching these three perform it made him feel like a clumsy oaf in comparison.

They made it look beautiful. And deadly.

Nevertheless, he felt drawn to join them, his hand settling upon his sword hilt. On the porch to his right the snow was bloodstained, the bear trap closed and put to one side. Drem didn’t know what had been done with the body they’d found in the trap, bled out by the time they’d gone to check. Then he saw a row of boots and legs sticking out from around the side of his cabin, remembered Sig and the other two heaving the dead around there.

A board had been nailed onto the splintered doorframe overnight to keep out some of the chill, but now it was laid across the elk pit Drem had dug. He walked carefully down the steps of his porch and across the wooden board, slightly concerned when it creaked under his weight.

His barn was nothing more than a smoking ruin, charred stumps of timber and the iron parts of his wain making up most of what had survived the fire.

Hope the goats and chickens survived. Though not sure they’d be safe around here with a bear and a wolven-hound.

He saw a goat poking out from the stables and smiled.

He joined Sig and the other two, drew his sword and moved with them, stepping from iron gate into scorpion’s tail. He saw Cullen’s eyes flicker to him, but Sig and Keld took no notice, and before long he was lost in each moment of the dance.

Sig’s sword snapped back into its scabbard, Keld and Cullen sheathed their blades without any noticeable or conscious thought. Drem felt blood well on his thumb as he cut it, trying and failing to sheathe his own sword without looking at it.

‘Need to work on that,’ Sig said as she cuffed sweat from her brow.

‘Here, use your thumb as a guide, not like a vegetable you’re slicing for the pot; like this,’ Cullen said, stepping next to Drem and breaking the move down into smaller pieces. Drem watched, the individual parts clicking into place in his head, and he managed to perform it correctly on his third try.