Threetrees looked up at the sky, pink and grey through the branches, and shook his head. 'No. We're losing the light, and I wouldn't like leaving 'em behind us in the dark. Since we're here, and since they're here, we'd best deal with 'em. Weapons it is.' He squatted down, talking quiet. 'Here's how we'll do it. Dogman, get round and above, up on that slope there. Take the one on the left when you hear the signal. You follow me? The one on the left. And best not to miss.'

'Aye,' said Dogman, 'on the left.' Not missing more or less went without saying.

'Dow, you slide in quiet and take the middle.'

'The middle,' growled Dow. 'He's done.'

'That leaves one for you, Grim.' Grim nodded without looking up, rubbing at his bow with a rag. 'Nice and clean, boys. I don't want to be putting one o' you in the mud over this. Places, then.'

The Dogman found a good spot up above Bethod's three scouts and watched from behind a tree trunk. Seemed like he'd done this a hundred times, but it never got any easier on the nerves. Probably just as well. It's when it gets easy that a man makes mistakes.

Dogman was watching for him, so he just caught sight of Dow in the fading light, slithering up through the brush, eyes fixed ahead on his task. He was getting close now, real close. Dogman nocked an arrow and took an aim at the one on the left, breathing slow to keep his hands steady. It was then that he realised. Now he was on the other side, the one that had been on the left was on the right. So which one should he shoot?

He cursed to himself, struggling to remember what Threetrees said. Get around and take the one on the left. Worst thing of all would have been to do nothing, so he aimed up at the one on his left and hoped for the best.

He heard Threetrees call from down below, sounding like a bird out in the woods. Dow gathered himself to jump. Dogman let his arrow fly. It thudded into the back of his task just as Grim's arrow stuck him in the front, and Dow seized hold of the middle one and stabbed him from behind. That left one of 'em untouched, and very surprised-looking.

'Shit,' whispered the Dogman.

'Help!' screamed the last of 'em, before Dow jumped on him. They rolled in the leaves, grunting and thrashing. Dow's arm went up and down—once, twice, three times, then he stood up, glaring through the trees and looking mighty annoyed. Dogman was just shrugging his shoulders when he heard a voice behind him.

'What?'