It was all very well for men to offer them food, and she ate well, but as the darkness deepened, she wanted trees over her head, and to be away from the open sky and the falling snow, which made her, and all her kin, sleepy. Together they loped west, their axes on their backs, into the debatable ground between Penrith and the woods. There were men there, where the ancient road rose up four feet above the fields on either side; and Blue Berry could see other men landing from boats to the south, and more snow coming into the east. But she craved the safety of the woods, and she and her clan went into the open trees at the edge, where in better times men kept pigs and all the under-growth was clear; and when she was under the branches of the huge old maples, she relaxed.

But she kept going, moving carefully, because the woods were not clear of enemies and the fields to the east were now beginning to fill with bogglins and worse. Blue Berry led her bears north, avoiding combat; looking for a huddle of fallen trees or a little cave to spend the night.

After an hour of steady moving, she found a fire, and a little cautious exploration showed that there were men at the fire. Blue Berry had little trust in men, but much experience, and she liked the look of the two caves the men had found.

She motioned with a paw and her warriors went flat in the snow. Then she approached carefully, until she was challenged by a sentry, a young knight with a heavy crossbow cradled in his freezing-cold arms under a heavy cloak.

“Halt!” the young human cried. “Identify yourself.”

She gave a growl. “I am Blue Berry of the Long Dam Clan,” she said. “I have fought all year alongside men.”

“Galahad!” roared the boy.

Before the ice on her paws between her long toes could harden uncomfortably, another man came. He bowed to her, and she thought she might recognize him.

“I knew Flint,” he said. “I am Ser Galahad d’Acon.”

“Ah, the gallant Galahad,” purred Blue Berry. “I come to share, grrrr, your caves.”

Gabriel nodded. “Come and join us.”

The crowd of fighters who had cleared the gate were tired, and Bad Tom pulled them back; he had not lost a one, but he was troubled by the worms and the snow.

Ser Michael replaced them with the scarecrows. The whole phalanx came through the gate very quickly and formed a hollow square, covering the opening of the gate.

The snow squall ended. Moonlight fell on snow; to the west, a long line of clouds marched in, presaging worse weather, but for the moment, there were stars.