Still, here they would stay. He saw to the horses while she gathered wood that was not soaked. She started a fire while he banked dirt behind to send heat in through the opening of the shelter. They cooked some dried meat and ate it with flat-bread though without much hunger. Drink was rainwater sucked from the moss on fallen logs. By the last twilight they stowed their things inside and settled down.

The boughs rustled as they fumbled out of their clothes and drew the saddle blankets over them. Hardgreip pressed close against Hadding in the dark. “Hold me,” she begged. “Love me. I am so alone.”

It was as if the grisliness he had witnessed clung to her. “I’m worn out,” he said, not altogether untruthfully. He did make himself put his arms around her. She smelled not of woman but of fear.

After a while, though, he fell into unrestful sleep. Dreams gibbered at him. Now and then he woke. A full moon had cleared the treetops. The drenched grass outside shimmered like ice. Hardgreip’s eyeballs glistened in the shadows. She was lying awake. He said nothing, and soon the dreams overran him again.

Her scream roused him. Sounds of ripping and tearing followed. He sprang up. The top was torn off the hut. Moonlight streamed through a mangled wall. It dappled a hand coming in from above.

The hand was as broad as he was tall. Black hair bristled over it. The moon-glow sheened on fingernails like claws. It groped after Hardgreip. She cowered away. Her mouth stretched wide. Her arms flailed air.

“Grow big!” he yelled. “Grapple it!”

Her wits returned. As the fingers found her, she became whirling, whistling smoke. It curdled back into flesh. Her bulk broke open another wall. She caught hold of the hand and wrestled with it.

A wild gladness flared in Hadding. Here was a real thing to fight. By the fitful moonlight he found his sword, drew it, and hewed.

“Ya-ah!” he shouted. “God-foe, die!” The blade flew. Each time it struck, he felt the shock in his shoulders. The iron bit deep. Blood sprang forth. It stank like a rotting lich. Wherever a drop splashed on him, it seared.

To and fro the struggle swayed. The hut gave way. Its knitted branches fell over his head. He could not see what loomed beyond the hand. But he swung his sword.

So did he cut through flesh, sinew, bone at the wrist joint. The poison blood spouted. Hardgreip lurched and fell. She gripped a hand with no more arm behind it. A howl blasted Hadding’s ears. Earth trembled and thundered to hasty footfalls.

They passed from hearing. He stood panting in the wreckage. Hardgreip threw the hand off her. She climbed to her feet and loomed gigantic under the moon. Its beams made glisten her sweat and tears. Her breath sobbed like a stormwind.

“We live,” said Hadding wonderingly.

“We cannot—bide—here,” rasped Hardgreip.