West worked his aching ankles for a moment and then bent down to follow, when he felt a shadow fall across him. He looked up to see that Black Dow had stepped into his path, blocking the way with one heavy shoulder, his snarling face no more than a foot away. He nodded towards the Prince's slow moving back. 'You want me to kill him?' he growled in Northern.

'If you touch any one of them!' West had spat out the words before he had any idea of how to finish. 'I'll…'

'Yes?'

'I'll kill you.' What else could he say? He felt like a child making ludicrous threats in a schoolyard. An extremely cold and dangerous schoolyard, and to a boy twice his size.

But Dow only grinned. 'That's a big temper you got on you for a skinny man. A lot of killing we're talking about, all of a sudden. You sure you got the bones for it?'

West tried to look as big as he could, which wasn't easy standing down a slope and hunched over with exhaustion. You have to show no fear, if you're to calm a dangerous situation, however much you might be feeling. 'Why don't you try me?' His voice sounded pitifully weak, even in his own ear.

'I might do that.'

'Let me know when it's time. I'd hate to miss it.'

'Oh, don't worry about that,' whispered Dow, turning his head and spitting on the ground. 'You'll know it's time when you wake up with your throat cut.' And he sauntered off up the muddy slope, slow enough to show he wasn't scared. West wished that he could have said the same. His heart was pounding as he pushed on between the trees after the others. He trudged doggedly past Ladisla and caught up to Cathil, falling into step beside her.

'You alright?' he asked.

'I've been worse.' She looked him up and down. 'How about you?'

West suddenly realised what a state he must look. He had an old sack with holes cut in it for his arms pulled over his filthy uniform, his belt buckled tight over the top with the heavy sword pushed through it and knocking against his leg. There was an itchy growth of half beard across his rattling jaw, and he guessed that his face must have been a mixture of angry pink and corpse grey. He wedged his hands under his armpits and gave a sad grin. 'Cold.'

'You look it. Should have kept your coat, maybe.'

He had to nod at that. He peered through the branches of the pines at Dow's back and cleared his throat. 'None of them have been… bothering you, have they?'

'Bothering me?'