Paks resented his usual tone, but was too tired to resist. She fell quickly into a light doze, waking as Macenion replenished the fire. She squinted around the shelter. The horses stood head-to-tail near the rock wall; she could see firelight reflecting from Star's eyes. Hardly man-high, the ledge of rock overhanging them glittered as if it were full of tiny stars. Paks blinked several times, and decided the rock itself had shiny fragments to catch the light. Firelight turned the snowdrifts into glittering gold and orange—pretty, she thought, when you didn't have to be out in it. She snuggled deeper into her blankets, took a long breath, and slid back into sleep.

Macenion's choked cry brought her halfway out of her blankets with sword in hand before her eyes were open. He stood rigid beside the fire, mouth open. Paks tried to see beyond him, to the outside. Nothing but a wavering dark. She glanced back at the horses. Both of them were alert, heads high, nostrils flared. Star's ears were back; Windfoot's tail was clamped tight. Paks began to untangle herself from the blankets as unobtrusively as possible: she felt they were both easy targets, in the firelight.

It was then she saw the pale blue glow of eyes.

"Paksenarrion!" Macenion's whisper was hoarse and desperate.

"I'm awake," she said softly. What, she wondered, had eyes like that? Farther apart than human eyes, that was all she could tell. Big eyes.

"Paks, it's a—" he choked, and then recovered. "It's a snowcat."

"Holy Gird," said Paks without thinking. When she realized what she had said, she wished she'd kept quiet.

"What?" asked Macenion.

Paks felt herself blushing in the dark. "Nothing," she said. "Now what?"

"Can't you see it?"

"No—nothing but eyes."

"I don't know what we can—" Macenion's voice suddenly sharpened. "Paks! Your ring!"

"What?" For a moment Paks had no idea what he meant. Macenion spared a glance at her, furious.

"Your ring, human! your special ring," he went on. Paks nodded, then, stripping off her glove to touch it.

"But are you sure it will work? Maybe the thing—the snowcat—will just go away if we let it alone."

As if in answer to that suggestion, the glowing eyes moved closer. Now Paks could see a suggestion of the body's outline, a long, powerful catlike form, crouching as if to spring.

"You fool!" cried Macenion. "It knows we're here! It's about to jump. Stop it! Hold it!"

Paks thought she could see a twitch in that long tail, like the twitch she had seen in the mousers at the barn, the last instant before they sprang on a rat. She pressed her thumb hard on the ring and thought "Hold still, cat." She wondered if those words would work.

"Are you?" asked Macenion hoarsely.

"Yes," said Paks. "How long does it—"

"As long as you concentrate. Keep holding it."