---Torgan’s perspective---

  I pause, my fingers partway through lashing evergreen branches together to decorate the Solstice Festival tomorrow.

  That laugh I’m hearing from outside the store chamber sounds… very familiar?

  None of my clan laugh anything like that!

  It… couldn’t be who it sounds like… could it?

  If it’s someone doing an impression of him, it’s both a very convincing one and a good sustained fake laugh.

  I put down the decorations and stand, making my way along the chisel marked wall to the doorway curtain.

  I push it aside to see that, indeed, the one doubled over in laughter and pointing at my woman’s swollen belly is exactly who I thought it was!

  What’s he doing back here!?

  I didn’t think I’d see him again (or anyone else from his tribe besides Tsazel) for years, if ever!

  My child isn’t even born and he’s already back!?

  Tsazel is performing a complicated set of bodylanguage and facial expressions… but interpreting that kind of thing has never been a strength of mine.

  Behind the tallest man I’ve ever met stands my cousin, her blue eyes fixed on him, and a somewhat short, rather strong looking woman I don’t know.

  Judging by the dark red colour of her hair and the features of her face, my guess is that she isn’t from anywhere near here.

  I take a step forward and Ksem whips around, his brown eyes fixing on me beneath his tall, flat, brown skinned forehead and an unnerving smile twisting his lips above his chin prong.

  “You’re back…” I say, stupidly.

  “I’m back, Torgan… I’m back and you are a wolf!!!” he laughs, striding towards me in his people’s odd gait and gesturing to my woman “Why didn’t you just say, Torgan? Why didn’t you just tell us you were already her man!? It would’ve made the argument about whether Kseley could stop you taking her back here null and void!”

  He stops an armlength away and places his left hand on my right shoulder, rapping his right four fingernails against my left as he leans his weight on me, doubling over in hysterics.

  “I… uhm… I… err… I didn’t know I’d already got her pregnant… She hadn’t told me then…” I answer, honestly.

  He straightens back up, looking at me through narrowed eyes with a twisted smile, and says “You sure it wasn’t because you were worried Kseley would curse you if she found out(?)”

  My stomach drops as I look around for the witch and, terrified, ask “She’s not here, is she!?” remembering the threat she made when we parted ways.

  I’ve technically kept up my end of the bargain but… that might not matter to her if she’s angry enough!

  The tall man shakes his face and smiles “No, Torgan, she’s not here… aaaaand I can play dumb about just how far along Tsazel is when I let her know if you like(!)… It’s just me and Raala, my friend over there.”

  “Not your friend, arsehole!” objects the strangely accented woman I don’t recognise in a manner that I’m pretty certain is genuine irritation, not a humorous pretence of it.

  “What are you doing back here then?” I ask, deeply confused by why this man would be so far from the multitude he leads and only in the company of this one woman.

  The smile drops from his face as he says “Well my friend… we’re going through a bit of an ordeal right now. We came here to ask for your help… May we come inside?”

  Shaken, I reply “Y-yes! Of course!… Please come in and tell me your troubles.”

  ---Raala’s perspective---

  The awkward, reticent man sits on the floor of a sleeping cave which, judging by the toolmarks etched into every part of every surface, was either entirely carved into this cliffbase by his clan or, at the very least, significantly expanded by them.

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  A lot more work than just building a freestanding hut but the advantage is that your hundred-greats-grandchildren can still enjoy the home you carved.

  Huts have to be knocked down and rebuilt every few decades.

  The man shares the same fiery orange hair as everyone South of the great River seem to have and, from the backs of his hands, I’d guess it covers his whole body quite thickly.

  It might be my imagination but all of his people look taller than Basinfolk typically are… He’s only a little shorter than Wuurlo and that irritating, cheery, sexy brunette girl wouldn’t be an unusual height for an outland woman!

  His hooded eyes make his face look sad no matter what expression he makes.

  Right now though, I think the sadness is real… and that’s not good news!

  “You…” he agonises, looking at Ksem “…are a friend, Ksem… a friend to my people, a friend to me but … it’s as your friend that I must tell you; what you propose is ill advised.”

  My heart sinks as I realise that the prospect of a guide to make our journey a little less ‘ill advised’ is not happening.

  It’s just going to be me and Ksem the whole way!

  Huh… My spirits just lifted back up for no reason?… Strange…

  Continuing, the deep voiced man says “I know you understand how dangerous it is to travel in Winter, Ksem. You told me yourself that you and your people overwintered in those grottoes near the sea rather than continuing to travel last year… and that was in a land without snow or ice! In Winter days are shorter, air is colder, food is scarcer and predators are hungrier… Honestly, you’re lucky to have made it across the Northern steppe in one piece! You should thank the Great Elk for leading you away from the clan of crazed murderers I hear live out there!… Why don’t the two of you just stay here until Spring? I’ll happily walk you back to the Rift as soon as it’s safer to travel?”

  Ksem gives a resigned nod and smiles “I know, Torgan, I know… Under normal circumstances, I would absolutely agree! I would advise exactly what you’re advising right now; ‘it’s not worth the risk’, ‘getting there soon is less important than getting there alive’, ‘just find a safe spot to hunker down until conditions are better’ etc. Unfortunately, there are other considerations that override the risks to our safety… For… reasons I won’t go into, the situation between Raala’s people and mine was a little… fraught when we became stranded… My Banehood would have been a good thing to reconcile us but, as my people may well now see it, I went into the territory of the six clans and then just… didn’t come back!… We need to return as soon as possible to set the record straight before anyone does anything reckless and irreversible!”

  “And we’ve just wasted half a Moon heading here instead of straight to the Rift.” I add, bitterly.

  “Indeed.” Ksem acknowledges before turning his attention back to the one declining to guide us “I won’t try to convince you, Torgan… I know it would be unfair of me to make you risk your life for our sake when it isn’t just yourself you need to consider anymore…” gesturing his countrywoman whose swollen belly looks very weird on her skinny frame “…If I could just request hospitality for the night and perhaps some previsions for the trail? Then we’ll be on our way tomorrow morning. It’s probably best if we aren’t here for the party tomorrow night… we’d be too tired the next day to make good progress.”

  I catch sight of the blue eyed brunette looking crestfallen in the corner of my eye and feel a completely disproportionate amount of anger at that.

  Then, the pregnant woman raises a palm and, her speech thickly accented, says “Wait…?”

  Every face in the cavern turns to her.

  “…how you sleep, coming here?”

  “Three walled snow shelters made every day, leather tarp roof, cloaks for bedding.”

  Frowning, the woman switches to her mothertongue to clarify something.

  Ksem answers her, incomprehensible to me.

  “Show me ‘tarp’.” she says, holding out a hand.

  Wordlessly, Ksem stands and makes his way over to the willow basket, opens it up, pulls out the folded, weatherproofed leather and dusts off the charcoal powder before handing it to her.

  She unfolds it, her face twisting in dismay before she asks “This and snow!? Not good! Can’t keep like that!”

  “I mean… it’s not luxurious but-” he starts but she cuts him off.

  “It danger, Ksem!… Give this me. Make you tent. Space and fire for in it… Five days.” she says, decisively.

  “Tsazel, I-”

  “Five days would also be enough time for me to make you a sledge?” suggests the orange beard, looking at the ground pensively “Or finish making it anyway. I’ve got one I’m most of the way done with that was intended as a spare… Your need is greater… You could carry a lot more that way than on your backs? That would improve your chances of not dying…”

  Unusually uncertain, Ksem looks at me.

  “Raala? What do you think?”

  Every eye in the room turns to me.

  I think.

  It feels like, ever since the collapse, it’s just been Due after Due we’ve had to pay in time(!)

  First my foot had to heal, then we had to take this fruitless detour for help, then we had to spend days with the Hyenas while Ksem worked for our provisions… and now…

  It seems like the entire world is conspiring to keep us out here for the rest of our lives!

  On the other hand, a sledge would significantly decrease the work of carrying our stuff?

  A tent would also be a lot more comfortable and easier to set up than what we have been doing?

  We might actually make better time overall losing the five days here in order to have more time and energy each day to travel?

  Even if this guide won’t come with us, he and his clan still clearly want to help and it would be a bit of a shame to throw their charity back in their faces…

  I sigh internally before answering “Let’s do it… Thank you guys. A tent and a sledge sound amazing!”

  “Good good!” beams the pregnant woman, clapping her long fingered hands together once with a very ‘that’s settled then’ demeanour “I make tent, TorTor make sledge, two you stay tomorrow party… While you here, Raala help everything and Ksem… you teach bows… I try teach but not archer, not good(!)”

  Tsazel |