There was a sudden crashing and the large dappled, green and white form hurtled through the undergrowth towards him.

When he raised his weapon the beast screamed fiercely through widespread jaws. Kerrick squeezed the hèsotsan but the marag did not stop. Squeezed again as it loomed over him, stepped back as it fell heavily, almost at his feet.

There was a quick movement in the air and Arnwheet’s little spear thudded into the carcass.

“Well done, great hunter,” Ortnar said, an unaccustomed smile on his lips. “You have killed it.”

Arnwheet came forward, more than a little afraid of the large creature, then bent and pulled his spear free. “What is it?”

“A marag.” Ortnar spat on the corpse. “See the teeth, a meat eater.”

“Then we will eat it, instead of it eating us!”

“They are no good, the flesh is poison.”

“Then I will cut off its tail.”

Ortnar smiled. “The tail alone is bigger than you. But take one of the claws from the hind foot. You can hang it around your neck next to your knife for all to see.”

“Will there be more of them?” Armun asked, taking up the baby and moving along the trail away from the corpse. It stank.

“I don’t think so,” Ortnar said. “This kind, I’ve seen them before, they hunt alone. Its smell will keep any other murgu away.”

“Myself as well,” Kerrick said, going to join Armun and the others. Ortnar stayed where he was, spear ready, to watch over the boy. Harl returned soon after that and admired the kill.

“There is no game. I think this marag has frightened off everything else in the forest. We are not far from a large trail. There are the marks of travois poles on it.”

“New marks?” Armun asked, hopefully.

“Very old, grown over. Hard to see.” He took his flint knife and went to help the blood-splattered boy cut off the claw.

It was not a long trek, but they moved even more slowly now. Ortnar protested but Kerrick insisted that Harl stay with him, armed with a hèsotsan. Kerrick would go ahead with the others and guard them against the deadly creatures of the forest.

They were eight nights more on this trail, the main one leading north that the sammads had used, before Harl came running up from behind them, calling out.

“What is wrong?” Kerrick said, raising his weapon.

“Nothing. But Ortnar says that you have passed the track we must take. Not far back.”

Ortnar was leaning on his spear when they came up. He pointed with satisfaction to a broken branch that was almost completely concealed by the undergrowth. “I marked it, when I was here last. This is the way.”