Magiere headed down the steps and through the crusted snow toward the iron gates.

Hkuan'duv could barely breathe by the time he heard voices. He and Danvarfij had sat vigils before in bad weather. But the thin air in temperatures well below freezing left him stiff, even with his training in controlling and conserving body heat. Snow was falling again, and the wind had picked up. He had difficulty moving his arms and legs as he crawled away from the wall for a better view of the gates.

"Sgailsheilleache and Osha."

Hkuan'duv glanced back at Danvarfij's whisper. Her face and lips were so pale. When he turned forward, someone stepped through the gates, and he flattened in the snow.

Magiere led with a square bundle under one arm and a larger canvas bulk strapped to her back with rope. Behind her came Leshil and Sgailsheilleache, and something heavy swung in a canvas sling swinging between them. The majay-hi ranged nearby, and Osha came last with another canvas bundle like Magiere's. When he took a long step, the small human female became visible, trudging beside him.

Hkuan'duv's gaze shifted quickly over the procession, skipping between the two canvas bundles and whatever swung between Leshil and Sgailsheilleache. More complications-he could not be certain who carried the artifact.

"It appears she was successful," he whispered.

"Do we take it?" Danvarfij asked in a weak voice, though she gripped her bow firmly in hand.

"Not here," he answered. "When they are farther from this place… and its guardian."

He did not see the white woman, but it was better to wait. He did not care to risk dealing with her again.

"We wait until they are out of sight," he said.

When the procession had passed halfway across the white plain, he crawled back to Danvarfij.

Her tan face was drawn and pale, and beneath the cloak's hood, strands of her hair had turned brittle with frost. Her pupils were small.

"Are you well?" he asked.

"Of course," she whispered.

He still opened his cloak and pulled her in against his body. She did not resist, and in truth he did not feel much better than she looked.

"Not long now," he said.

She leaned against him in silence. By the time the procession reached the distant rocky slope, the falling snow had thickened and the wind was blowing harder.

"They cannot travel far in this," he said. "They will remain at camp."

Danvarfij said nothing as he got up. When she tried to do the same, the bow slipped from her fingers. It sank in the fresh snow an instant before she fell.

Hkuan'duv quickly dropped, rolling her over, and brushed clinging snow from her face.

Danvarfij eyes were closed. Her breathing was shallow, barely leaking any vapor between her lips.

The wind sharpened as he disassembled her bow and stowed it behind his own back beneath his cloak. When he hoisted her over his shoulder and took his first step, his legs shook. The long night had taken more from him than he had realized. He stumbled across the white plain.

By the time he crested the rocky slope, he no longer heard Danvarfij's breaths over the harsh wind. He climbed down with one hand clawing for holds on the loose, cold stones.

With their purpose so close to an end, he should have left her behind and finished what they had started-but he could not. Perhaps he had grown too old in service, and his dedication now faltered. But she would never survive alone in the coming storm.

And Hkuan'duv could not survive the loss of Danvarfij.

He tilted his head down and pressed onward. Even when he passed through the chute, he barely glanced at Kurhkage's snow-dusted corpse. When he reached their campsite, the tent was half-buried. He laid Danvarfij down to knock off the caked snow, then quickly pulled her inside and found the bag of dung.

He built a smoldering fire at the tent's mouth, hoping it would keep going for a while, and then crawled beneath the layered cloaks beside Danvarfij. He pressed in against her, and between the smoky fire and her closeness, a hint of warmth grew between them.

Hkuan'duv closed his eyes for a moment, trying not to let exhaustion take him.

He opened them again and raised his head. He heard no wind, and it was dark inside the tent. Danvarfij shifted beside him.

"Where are we?" she murmured.

He crawled to the tent's opening. Snow pinned the tent's flap shut. He began digging to free it, and then emerged into a silent dark world covered in a fresh blanket of snow.

The blizzard had passed. In exhaustion and the welcome warmth of Danvarfij's body, he had fallen asleep. The day was gone.

Hkuan'duv crouched to find Danvarfij staring out of the tent. Her wide eyes mirrored his panic.

"Stay here!" he ordered, and he hurried out through the drifts.

When he reached a vantage point, and saw the canvas-covered depression, he knew he was too late. No light filtered out through the crusted fabric, and he closed quickly, not bothering with stealth. Why had they left the canvas behind?

He stepped forward, pulling the canvas back.

The bodies of Kurhkage and A'harhk'nis lay inside the stone depression. With their hands upon their chests, Hkuan'duv did not need to look further.

Sgailsheilleache had performed rites for their fallen brethren.

At least their spirits, if not their flesh, would return to their people and the ancestors. Without a way to bring home the bodies, the next choice would be to burn their remains and carry the ashes back. With no way to accomplish even that much, Sgailsheilleache had done the best he could for them.

Hkuan'duv crawled out of the depression to scan the craggy mountainside, but he found no hint of a trail in the pure unbroken snow. The storm must have weakened after he fell asleep. His quarry had moved on, their trail covered by the day's lighter snowfall. He hurried back to his own camp to find Danvarfij gathering their gear.

"I have lost their trail," he said flatly, crouching beside her.

She still looked pale and drawn. Her hood down, her thick hair fell around her shoulders. She leaned on her hands, close to his face.

"If they wish to deliver the artifact in Belaski, they will head straight across this range, trying to reach the western coast. Even if we cannot find them in these mountains, we can track them once they leave the snowy heights. They must come out above the Everfen, and I know that region well."

Hkuan'duv calmed at her words.

"Of course," he answered. "It is only a delay."

Magiere lost track of the days and nights as their supplies rapidly dwindled. By the time they reached the range's western side, Chap spent nearly half of each day hunting with Sgaile or Osha for anything to eat. Roasting mice and squirrels ferreted from hibernation became the low point in their scant and meager meals. But as the air grew warmer and any snowfall became rain in the foothills, they fared a little better each following day.

One day, spouts of light green wild grass appeared along a muddy path. And then spring greeted them as they stood upon a high crest looking down over the Everfen.

The marshlands stretched west beyond sight. Magiere began descending quickly, until Wynn took a step, and her boot was sucked off in the deep mud. Leesil helped retrieve it, as Wynn teetered on the other foot, and then everyone trod more carefully.

Even when the rain broke for a short spell, the constant drip from the trees soaked them. But the air was no longer frigid.

"If it was not so wet, I would leave my coat behind," Wynn joked.

Magiere was glad to see her in better spirits. The journey down through sharp foothills had been grueling for little Wynn. At one point, her limp was so severe that Sgaile suggested carrying her on his back. Wynn adamantly refused, though Osha took away her pack, slinging her heavy bundle of books over his shoulder.