‘They had their reasons,’ his da said, ‘the telling of which I do not have the time or the inclination for. Just trust me on this. The Ben-Elim are not our friends or allies because they hunt the Kadoshim. The Kadoshim would not be here in the first place if not for the Ben-Elim.’

‘But—’

‘Ach.’ His da spat. ‘Answer this, then. The bear and the wolven, they both hunt the elk, do they not?’

‘Aye, they do.’

‘Are bear and wolven friends, then? Would they share a meal one with the other?’

‘They’d most likely fight,’ Drem answered. ‘Or maybe one would walk away, depending on how hungry they were, how big the bear was, and how many wolven in the pack.’

‘Aye, you have the right of it, lad. Things are rarely clean cut, black and white, right or wrong. Life’s more complicated than that. And so it is between the Ben-Elim and human-kind. Or so it should be . . .’ Olin’s hand dropped to the knife at his belt, fingertips brushing the worn leather hilt. ‘Besides, the Ben-Elim are not the only ones who hunt the Kadoshim.’

‘Who else does, then?’ Drem asked, leaning forwards.

‘Is there no end to your questions?’ his da muttered. ‘You’ll get no more out of me tonight. We’ve an early start and a long walk on the morrow. I’d recommend getting some sleep.’ And with that he rolled over.

What’s wrong with questions? Drem thought, feeling frustrated. They are all I have. Absently he lifted two fingers to his throat, searching for his pulse. Something about its steady rhythm soothed and calmed him when he felt anxious or troubled. He counted the beats, a whisper of breath.

‘Drem,’ his da said. ‘Stop taking your pulse, or at least, count in your head.’

‘Aye, Da.’

‘There it is,’ Drem said, pointing as the elk pit became visible on the path ahead of them. It was closer to sunset than highsun, both of them slowed by their injuries from the day before. They separated, slipping into the cool shadows of pine trees either side of the track, moving forwards slowly and searching for any signs of the white bear. There was none and they met beside the elk pit.

The elk was gone, snagged fur and dried blood staining the bottom of the pit, the earth churned and scattered, great gouges from the bear’s claws and ruts in the soil from the elk’s death-throes.

‘Taken it back to its den – some cave or safe place,’ Olin said. ‘Where it can eat in peace.’

Must be a cave the size of a mead-hall, Drem thought, looking at an imprint of one of the bear’s paws.

‘Well, as long as it’s far from us, I’m not caring,’ his da said. He sniffed and looked around; the hillside was quiet and still.

‘Let’s go see what’s left of our camp.’