Drem looked up at the foothills and mountains beyond, solid slabs of darkness now as night settled like a shroud about them.

‘Back to the camp it is, then.’ He nodded.

‘With first light,’ Olin said.

They settled about the fire, dressed in their dried-out clothes, but all the time Drem was going over the bear attack in his mind. He’d travelled and lived in the Wild for many years with his da, and he was no stranger to the savagery of the Banished Lands and their bloodthirsty predators. Packs of wolven, blood-sucking bats – once he’d even seen a draig. But never had he come across something that had affected him like that white bear. He’d been frozen with fear. There was respect, too; for the staggering majesty of its power, and for its indomitable will. Any creature that made the wild of the Desolation its home was a force to be reckoned with.

He thought of his da, standing over him as the bear charged.

And my da is not so different from that bear. He is indomitable, too.

‘Thank you,’ Drem whispered.

‘Huh?’ Olin grunted, his back to him. Drem had thought he was asleep.

‘I said, thank you. You saved my life.’

‘Well, I’m your da. It’s my job.’

‘Life and death is no jest,’ Drem muttered.

His da shifted to look at his son, his face deep-lined, all dark grooves and shadow in the flickering firelight.

‘No, you’re right.’ He sat up, pulled his knees up to his chest. ‘The truth of it is, there are not many things I’ve done right in this life. Getting handbound to your mam was one of them. You’re another, Drem; the one good thing I have left. And I’ll be damned if I’ll let anything take you from me. Not without a fight, anyway.’

Drem felt a surge of emotion at his da’s words. They were both practical men, both viewed life logically, rarely given to emotional displays. Neither of them were much for long words or long conversations, and Drem had never heard his da say such things as this to him.

Maybe it’s coming so close to death. We both stared it in the face this morning.

His voice did not cooperate as he tried to speak. He coughed, cleared his throat.

‘I wish I could remember more of Mam,’ he said. ‘If I think hard enough I can see something of her face, her eyes. Her smile. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t remember her voice.’

The fire crackled between them, the only sound as Olin stared into the flames.