“I feel better. Really,” Ren assured him when he looked doubtful. Wrapping his fingers around Niklas' wrist, he dragged their hands down. Niklas turned his hand in Ren's grip to clasp it in his own.

“We're resting here for the night,” Anik said, walking past them and kneeling by their bags to find something they could eat. “I think we're far enough from Sifa's camp to be safe.”

“How long was I out?” Ren asked. Letting go of Niklas, he sat down on the fallen tree trunk. The daylight was fading fast.

Niklas sat down next to him. “Only a day. You were poisoned last night and you stayed unconscious until this morning,” he explained. “I didn't think you'd bounce back this quickly. That Lowlander woman wasn't doing as well as you by the time we escaped.”

“We should keep moving. We already wasted a day,” Ren said.

“We will. Tomorrow. You need rest,” Anik said, not looking up from the glowing embers of the fire.

“I'll get some more firewood,” Niklas said, getting up.

Ren wanted to protest, but he knew it was no use. The twilight was fast turning into inky darkness and he doubted even Anik could find his way in the thick of the forest at night. They'd just have to hope that whatever men Halvard had sent to take Stag's Run wouldn't catch up to them in the meantime. The fort couldn't be more than a day's ride away by now.

Standing, Ren steadied himself and crossed to sit by the fire opposite Anik. One of them, probably Niklas, had dressed Ren in his new winter coat while he had been unconscious, but the cold had still managed to creep under the layers of fabric. He held out his hands, the warmth of the embers easing the stiffness out of his fingers.

Around them, pine trees stretched their needle-covered branches like eerie fingers. Pines were the only trees hardy enough to survive in the constant cold of the north, and their appearance was dark and uninviting, nothing like the oak and birch forests that surrounded Ren's home. Even in daylight, no summer birds would sing here.

Ren looked at Anik. He sat tense, hands clasped around his elbows, curled in on himself as if to soak up as much warmth from the dying fire as he could. His coat was tugged tight around his shoulders, face half hidden in the fur that lined the collar.

Around them, the ground was covered in a faint layer of frost, and their breath formed little clouds of mist in the light of the fire. Anik had probably never been somewhere this cold before. The weather in the south where the Lowlands lay was much milder. Despite the still-hot embers and the warm coat, Ren could see him shivering. Squinting, he noticed something else. A narrow gap at the front of Anik's coat revealed a dark red stain on the collar of his white undershirt.