As the boy lay down and closed his eyes, Tewanias reached for the Oneida’s carbine. Taking the carbine’s ramrod and removing a rag and a small brush from his own ammunition pouch, he set about cleaning out the weapon’s barrel and lock mechanism. Every so often, he would pause to watch the gentle rise and fall of the boy’s chest as he slept. He had listened to the boy’s explanation as to why he was alone in the woods with puzzlement. He knew white men had a curious affinity with their animals, but to head into the forest in search of a missing dog seemed foolhardy in the extreme. His people kept dogs, but they came and went as they pleased. A dog was far better equipped to fend for itself in the wild than any human, especially a child. And dogs weren’t stupid; they would find their way back to their human companions sooner or later, drawn by the prospect of food and warmth.

Tewanias noted the hand curled around the turtle amulet. The boy was certainly an intriguing mix. While it was said that a man’s courage could be judged by the number of enemies he had dispatched, there were other criteria that were more important – chief among these being strength of character. How a man conducted himself in the face of danger was a far better measure of his resolve than the tattoos etched into his skin. Tewanias had learnt of the boy’s history from Wyatt. As he gazed upon the figure huddled against the dog’s flank, one thought occupied his mind.

This one carries the blood of a warrior.

An owl screeched but the boy did not awaken; neither did he stir at the rustling and the accompanying sequence of scuffling grunts that came from the direction of the river, which suggested that something was being dragged through the bushes. Tewanias paused in his task and listened. Gradually, the noises faded. When he looked up he saw that he was under observation. The dog was watching him, eyes bright in the moonlight, its ears pricked. For several seconds man and dog stared at each other, before Tam dropped his head on his paws. As the dog closed its eyes, Tewanias returned to cleaning the gun.

From the direction of the river there came the sounds of crunching bones and of an animal feeding.

“Cut’s fresh,” Jem Beddowes murmured softly, running his fingers across the edge of the coin-sized blaze. “It means we’re closing.”

“Eyes peeled, boys,” Wyatt whispered, knowing the instruction was unnecessary. The Rangers were versed in forest warfare. They knew what was expected of them and didn’t have to be reminded.