The endless forest of giant firs came right down to the coast, to the sandy beaches at the shore. At times as they walked they had to cut inland when the beach gave way to high cliffs with the waves breaking against them. The forest was silent and trackless, the snowdrifts beneath the trees were very deep and made the passage slow and tiring. Each time they worked their way back to the shore they looked eagerly in both directions, for some sign of habitation. Nothing. Just the barren coast and empty sea.

The food was almost gone when the blizzard struck. They had no choice, they could only go on, leaning against the north wind, looking for shelter of some kind. They were numb, half frozen when they found the shallow cave at the foot of the cliffs, just above the beach.

“There,” Kerrick called out, shouting to be heard above the roaring of the wind, pointing out the dark opening barely visible through the driving snow. “We must get inside, out of the wind.”

“We’ll need wood—a great deal of it. Leave what we carry inside, then get wood.”

They kicked through the drift that half-blocked the entrance, stumbling and falling. Away from the wind it seemed almost warm, although they knew the air was far below freezing.

“We cannot lie here,” Ortnar said, stumbling to his feet. He seized Kerrick’s hand and helped him to rise, pushed him out ahead of him back into the storm.

They hacked and chopped clumsily at the low branches, breaking off what they could with hands that were unable to close properly. Ortnar dropped his knife from his numb fingers and they wasted precious time digging through the drifts until they found it. With the last of their strength they dragged the wood back; it would have to do, they could not go back for more now. Kerrick fumbled out the firebox, but could not feel the stones inside until he had put his hands inside his furs to warm them against his body.

The fire was finally lit and they built it high, huddled next to it gasping in the smoke yet feeling the life return to their numb bodies. It was dark outside now, the wind howling incessantly, while the snow drifted across the entrance so that they had to keep digging it free to allow the smoke to escape.

“We are not the first ones to shelter here,” Kerrick said, pointing to the low ceiling of rock where the outline of a greatdeer had been traced with a charred stick. Ortnar grunted and kicked at the ground next to the fire.

“At least they did not leave their bones here.”

“And we might?” Kerrick said.

In silent answer Ortnar pulled over his pack and shook out the remaining food. “This is all we have left, about the same in your pack. Not enough to get back with.”