Ulf had been a trapper, like them, liked to boast that he had helped sink the first posts in Kergard’s walls over a score of years ago and used to trap along the Bonefells every spring and summer. After his injury – a tale involving a wolven that became larger and more fearsome with every telling – Ulf had retired from trapping and become the town tanner, buying skins and pelts from those who still hunted this far north and turning them into tooled leather. He was a skilful man; Drem’s da said he’d never had a pair of finer-fitting boots than the ones Ulf had made. When Drem and Olin had come to Kergard five year ago Olin had struck up a friendship with the tanner, who had helped them build their cabin and surrounding homestead.

Now, though, Drem could see a tension in his da at the appearance of the tanner, his eyes flickering beyond the barn, just for a moment.

He’s worrying about that lump of rock.

‘A good season’s hunting?’ Ulf asked.

‘Aye, good enough,’ Olin said.

‘I was hoping to buy or trade your skins,’ Ulf said.

Please, thought Drem. He hated the tanning process far more than the cold nights and hard rock and root of the hunting.

‘We were just talking about starting the tanning on the morrow,’ Olin said, tugging on his short beard.

‘I’ll give you a good price and save you the hard work, and the smell . . .’

‘We’re not afraid of some hard work, are we, lad?’ Olin said.

‘No, Da.’

But the smell. Please . . .

Olin saw Drem’s look.

‘Well, it’s something we’d not be against discussing, I suppose, is it, Drem?’

‘No, no, it’s not,’ Drem said, trying not to let his hope spill all over his face.

‘We’ll come into town on the morrow, talk on it some more,’ Olin said.

‘Well, I’d like to talk on it now, if it’s all the same to you. Don’t like to go to bed with unfinished business, gives me gut-ache and then I can’t sleep. But it’s hard with the smell of that food cooking,’ Ulf said, smacking his lips and raising his head to take a big sniff. ‘Distracting, it is.’

Olin frowned, his eyes flicking beyond the barn again, but then his face cracked in a smile. ‘Best we do something about that hole in your belly, then,’ and with that they all entered the cabin.

‘Kergard’s bigger than when we left,’ Olin said, dipping some black bread into his bowl.