Their path wound into the pine trees close to the river, and Drem saw the spot where he’d fallen, where his da had stood over him. For a moment he felt his blood run chill at the memory of it . . .

I wish I had Da’s courage.

A patch of blood and Drem’s axe lay amongst the forest litter close to where he’d fallen, beside it a claw, long and curled, a tuft of fur and flesh still attached to it where the axe had severed it from the bear’s paw.

‘There’s a keepsake for you,’ Olin said as he crouched and passed the claw to Drem, who whistled while turning it in his hand, the claw measuring from the tip of his finger to his wrist.

‘Not that you’ll need reminding of that beast,’ his da said.

‘Not likely,’ Drem muttered, the claw bringing back a kaleidoscope of memories of him lying on his back staring at the onrushing bear.

They found his da’s axe close by, its blade blood-crusted black.

‘Good axe, that,’ his da said with a smile, ‘Glad not to have seen the last of it.’

Their camp was mostly untouched, the piles of furs where they’d left them. One of their packhorses had slipped its rope but they found it only a few hundred paces away, contentedly eating grass. Something had been through the leftovers of their supper and ripped open a bag of cheese but, judging by the teeth marks, it was more the size of a weasel or stoat than a giant bear. It did not take long for them to break camp and soon they were winding their way back down the hillslope, leading three ponies, all piled high with bundled furs and kit. It was close to sunset but they’d agreed to get as far away from this spot as possible before darkness forced them to stop. Drem felt much better for a thick cloak about his shoulders, the spear he held in his hand and the axe hanging at his belt, not that weapons had done him or his da much good yesterday.

When they reached the elk pit Drem marvelled again at the carnage caused by one beast. Looking into it, something else caught his eye. Not a gleam, more the opposite: a matt darkness. Something black and solid.

Drem scrambled into the pit, careful not to take any weight on his injured ankle as he dropped the last few handspans, then crouched in the soil.

‘What is it?’ his da called from at the pit’s rim.

‘I don’t know,’ Drem answered as he scraped and dug at his feet. Then he sat back, frowning.