There was a thin mist above the stream when he awoke in the morning. Ortnar touched his shoulder and motioned him to silence as he slowly lifted and aimed his hèsotsan. The small buck, knee-deep in the water, raised its head at some sudden warning—but fell forward when the dart imbedded itself in his side.

The rich flesh was a change from the preserved murgu meat and they ate their fill, drying and preserving the rest in the ashes.

“Tell me of the Paramutan,” Kerrick said, muffled through a mouthful of meat. “I know only the name, that they live in the north.”

“I saw one once, our sammad traded with him. He had fur all over his face, not a real beard like ours, but all covered with hair like a longtooth. And he was short, only a little taller than I was and I was still young. I have heard that they live on the shore far to the north where the sea ice never melts. They fish in the sea. They have boats.”

“How will we find them? Do they have different sammads?”

Ortnar patted his cheeks in the gesture meaning he did not know. “If they do, I was never told. But I listened when they spoke and they are too stupid to talk Marbak. A hunter in our sammad had a few of their words and they talked. I think that all we can do is go north, stay on the shore, look for their tracks.”

“It will be winter before we get there.”

“It is always winter there. We have furs, we will bring dried meat. If we stay on this path we will meet the sammads on their way south. We will get ekkotaz from them. That is what we must do.”

“Dried hardalt as well—they will surely have some.”

Many days later they smelt smoke under the trees, carried to them by the rain-filled wind. They followed it to the meadow where the dark tents of the sammad of Sorli were staked out, half-seen in the downpour. The mastodon trumpeted as they passed and they were grateful for the welcome and the chance to eat until they could eat no more, then sleep dry and out of the rain. They went their separate ways in the morning: these were the last Tanu that they met.

They walked north, out of summer and into the colors of autumn. Drifted leaves lay heavy across the trail and the rabbit that Kerrick shot—with his bow, his aim was improving steadily—was already showing white in its fur.

“Very early winter,” Ortnar said, his face grim.

“The winters are all early now, we know that. All we can do is keep on, keep moving north as fast as we can.”