'Oh, I like my head where it is, big lad. We draw him on, north by north, that's what the forest told me. There's a place up in the mountains, a place well loved by the moon. A strong valley, and watched over by the dead of my family, and the dead of my people, and the dead of the mountains, all the way back until when the world was made.'

Dogman scratched his head. 'A fortress in the mountains?'

'A strong, high place. High and strong enough for a few to hold off a many until help were to arrive. We lure him on up into the valley, and your Union friends follow up at a lazy distance. Far enough that his witch don't see 'em coming, she's so busy looking at us. Then, while he's all caught up in trying to snuff us out for good and all, the Southerners creep up behind, and—' He slapped his palms together with an echoing crack. 'We squash him between us, the sheep-fucking bastard!'

'Sheep-fucker!' cursed the girl, kicking at the hammer on the ground.

They all looked at each other for a moment. Dogman didn't much like the sound of this for a plan. He didn't much like the notion of trusting their lives to the say-so o' this crazy hillman. But it sounded like some kind of a chance. Enough that he couldn't just say no, however much he'd have liked to. 'We got to talk on this.'

'Course you do, my new best friends, course you do. Don't take too long about it though, eh?' Crummock grinned wide. 'I been down from the High Places for way too long, and the rest o' my beautiful children, and my beautiful wives, and the beautiful mountains themselves will all of them be missing me. Think on the sunny side o' this. If Bethod don't follow, you get a few nights sat up in the High Places as the summer dies, warming yourselves at my fire, and listening to my songs, and watching the sun going down over the mountains. That sound so bad? Does it?'

'You thinking of listening to that mad bastard?' muttered Tul, once they'd got out of earshot. 'Witches and wizards and all that bloody rubbish? He makes it up as he goes along!'

Logen scratched his face. 'He's nowhere near as mad as he sounds. He's held out against Bethod all these years. The only one who has. Twelve winters is it now, he's been hiding, and raiding, and keeping one foot ahead? Up in the mountains maybe, but still. He'd have to be slippery as fishes and tough as iron to make that work.'

'You trust him, then?' asked Dogman.