THE LAND ROSE the farther north Kyle travelled. He had yet to find any open water. The grasses grew far taller and thicker here, attesting to rainfall, but the high spring clouds passed on south without pausing to disgorge any of their moisture here. He pushed through lush green growing shoots that brushed his thighs. Today, he knew, he had to find some source of water or tomorrow he might not have the strength to rise. As it was, he barely made any progress at all. His vision was blurry; he often had to pause to gather his wits to remain certain of his direction; and he had to stop himself from wandering here or there in a futile search for a pond or a stream.

Straight. Straight east of north was the way to go. Upland. Wandering in circles would be the death of him. Yet he was so thirsty – he might have passed right by a creek off to one side! He was just thinking that perhaps he really ought to search about for water before it was too late when he fell forward.

He lay thinking that he’d misstepped. But no, the ground fell away here into a depression, and, strangely, his hands felt cold where they pressed against the earth.

Cold … and damp. He dug at the thick mat of grass roots that covered the earth here. It was wet and frigid. He couldn’t tear through – he was too weak. On his knees now, he drew his blade and pushed it into the ground. Two-handed, he cut a triangle, then wearily, as carefully as he could manage, he resheathed the weapon. He gathered up a handful of the grass and heaved. He had to put all his weight into it, leaning back. It came in a ripping and tearing of roots and he fell on to his back.

It took a while for the dizziness to pass.

He crawled forward and sank his arms up to the elbows to dig at the cold earth beneath. He came up with a fist of hard dirt, frosty-white, and speckled with earth. It took him a while to understand what he was looking at: the very ground frozen solid. A knot of ice that must have resided here for years, perhaps for untold centuries. He thrust the entire ball into his mouth and held it there.

The pain was exquisite. His head numbed and ached. It felt as if that knot of frost had expanded to engulf his entire body. Something told him that if anyone from another region, another land, had tried what he had just so impetuously done they would have died. Something, some power, residing in this ancient ice would have overcome them.

Yet he felt somehow … rejuvenated. He stood, steady now on his feet, and lurched onward.

He entered a wide forest of tall, ancient conifers. Game was plentiful, yet he chose not to take the time to hunt. He contented himself with fish taken from a stream. The ground rose more steeply now.