"All this loose dust on the ground," said Fornjot as they climbed. "We're leaving a trail a blind man could follow."

  "Can't be helped," said Tarvos, puffing behind him as they laboured up the steep slope. "We can't take the time to cover our tracks. Not with them so close behind us. I'm just hoping we get over the top of the ridge before they see us." There was still loose dust in the air, moving as the wind gradually quickened. Tarvos's vision began to waver as his eyes watered, and he blinked several times to clear them.

  He looked back down to the path and was relieved to see that it was still empty. What if the bandits were to suddenly appear, though? There were no loose boulders that high. Nothing they could roll down to crush their enemies. The earthquake had rolled them all down to the bottom of the slope already. There weren't even any rocks large enough to make good slingstones. Nothing but dust in which their moccasins left clear tracks pointing the way they were going as clearly as if they'd left a signpost behind them.

  He quickened his pace, looking around to make sure the others were keeping up with him. "You okay, Daff?" he asked.

  "I'll be climbing long after you're lying flat on your face," Daphnis replied, a warning gleam in her eyes.

  "I'm okay too, if anyone's interested," said Geirrod. Everyone ignored him.

  Tarvos's legs were aching when they reached the top, and he ran across the broad, level top of the ridge to get out of sight of the path below. As the others joined him, he dropped to his belly and crept back to see the way they had come. He heard a gasp from Daphnis, who had joined him there along with the others, when six tiny figures came into view. They paused when they saw that the path was blocked and looked around. A moment later one of them pointed at the ground and then looked up the slope the Six-Tribesmen had gone. All six immediately began climbing.

  "Let's get out of here," he said, wriggling back on his stomach until he could stand without being seen. He didn't know why he did that. The bandits knew where they were. He could have stood up and waved and it wouldn't have made their situation any worse. The others did the same, though, in the grip of the fantasy that if their enemies couldn't see them, they were somehow safer.

  "They're going to catch us up," said Fornjot dejectedly as they scrambled down the steep slope. "So long as we're in the Spine, it's only a matter of time before we find ourselves in a dead end."

  "Then let's get out of the Spine," said Tarvos.

  "We're closer to the eastern edge than the western," said Fornjot. "We should go east."

  "That'll take us back to the river," Tarvos pointed out. "Which is flooded and impassable. We'd be trapped with our backs to the water."

  "We could go north or south along rhe riverbank," the other man replied. "They wouldn't know which way we'd gone. We could lose them."

  "And what if this canyon comes out north of the waterfall? We're going west."

  "We should talk about it..."

  "We're going west," Tarvos insisted.

  "You're not in charge," said Fornjot, giving him an angry look. "You've never led a hunt. I'm five years older than you. I have wisdom and experience. I should be in charge."

  "I'm going to be the next clan Chief," Tarvos pointed out.

  "One day," Fornjot replied. "But until then you're just a young, inexperienced clansman. We've followed you this far because all our choices have been pretty cleat cut. I would have made the same choices you did, but soon your lack of experience is going to count."

  "I'm not going to risk being trapped with my back to a swollen river or a high cliff. I'm not going to risk Daphnis being caught like that."

  "The eastward path might take us right back to Six Tribes territory. We find a village and we've got a hundred warriors to stand with us against Skoll and his new friends."

  "You go that way if you want," said Tarvos. "Daff and I are going west."

  "Am I?" said Daphnis, staring at him.

  "You'd come with me, wouldn't you?" said Tarvos, staring in surprise.

  "It would be nice if you asked. Or perhaps you intend to tie me up like Skoll did."

  "Now you're just being silly..." The look on her face made him choke off his words, though, and he chose some new ones instead. "You're right," he said. "I'm sorry. I should have asked. So do you think we should go east or west?"

  "West," said Daphnis, her expression softening. "I'm sorry. If you're going to be clan Chief, you can't have your wife undermining your authority. I'll go with you, wherever you lead."

  "He's not clan chief yet," said Fornjot, staring at her anxiously.

  "He is my Chief," Daphnis replied firmly, staring him in the eye as if daring him to contradict her.

  "And what about you, Geirrod?" asked Tarvos. "Will you follow where I lead?"

  "Even when you are a Chief you won't be my Chief," the other man replied. "I have sworn to keep my sister safe, though, so if she chooses to go with you, then I will too."

  "Then we're going west," said Tarvos to Fornjot. "You either come with us or go your own way."

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  "You're all fools," said Fornjot angrily. "The way home lies that way." He pointed to the right. "Our chances will be higher if we stick together, though, so if you're all determined to go the other way, then I'll come with you."

  "Thank you," said Tarvos in relief. "There may be times when we have to make a decision quickly, though. We won't always have time to talk things over like this. If you come with us, then I have to know that you'll accept my leadership at all times. If you disagree with me, you can suggest other alternatives, but once I've made my decision you follow my lead. Will you do that?"

  "You're asking a lot," Fornjot replied. "You're nothing but a youth, untested in battle. You've never even led a gooth hunt. I have led many hunts."

  "Will you follow my lead?" asked Tarvos, watching him closely.

  Fornjot's hands closed into fists, but then he nodded. "I will follow your lead," he said. "And may the spirits protect us."

  "It's starting to rain," said Daphnis, stretching her hand out in front of her.

  Geirrod swore under his breath. "That's all we need," he said.

  The rain was getting heavier, though. Soon Tarvos could feel it on his hands, and then a sudden gust of wind blew a flurry of warm droplets into his face. He looked up into the sky, where the clouds had formed a solid, dark blanket above them.

  "This could be good if it gets heavy enough," said Fornjot. "It might wash away our tracks."

  "Wrong time of the year," said Tarvos, though. "The world is drying out as the Long Summer begins.

  "The tales of the ancestors say that there are sometimes a few final rainstorms before the rain dries up completely," the other man replied. He looked up into the sly. "And I think this could be a heavy one. We can use this. If we head towards the east, leave tracks going that way, Skoll will think we're heading back to the river. Then, when the rain's heavy enough to wash away our tracks, we head west." He looked across at Tarvos. "If our leader agrees, of course."

  Tarvos was still uncomfortable with having argued with the older man, and was keen to fix things between them. "Good idea," he said therefore. "But we have to be out of sight before they reach the top of the ridge."

  "I think there's a precipice a little further down," said Fornjot, squinting his eyes to see. "If we reach it, it should block us from their view.

  Tarvos glanced anxiously back at the top of the ridge. It was still empty. "Let's be quick then," he said.

  Going down was faster than going up had been, as they were able to slide their way down the loose gravel raising a cloud of dust above them as they went. They angled to the right, and before long Tarvos was able to see the precipice Fornjot had spotted. The slope fell away to form a sheer cliff several yards deep, but to the east it merged into the slope of the valley. They slipped and slid towards it, creating a small avalanche below them as they went, while the rain grew steadily harder.

  Soon it was a heavy downpour, plastering their hair to their heads and sending rivulets of water flowing past them down the slope. "A little too heavy," Fornjot muttered to himself unhappily. "It might wipe out our false trail leading east." He raised his voice to speak to Tarvos. "What do we do if they miss our false trail and think we've gone west? If they take a more direct route, they might cut us off."

  "Then we'll have no choice but to go east," Tarvos replied. "I imagine that would please you."

  "The bandits are setting our course now," the other man replied. "I'll be glad just to get away from them."

  They reached the overhang and turned left, into its shelter. They edged their way along it until they reached a spot where a huge chunk of rock had fallen away some time in the past, leaving a shallow cave. Tarvos pushed Daphnis to the back of the cave, and then he and Fornjot pressed up against the entrance to peer out.

  "If they followed our trail," said Tarvos, just loud enough to be heard by the other man whose head was inches away beside his, "we'll see them climbing over there."

  Fornjot looked down, where the side of the canyon continued to drop to the narrow river that was flowing past at the bottom. It was too steep for anyone to come at them that way. "If they see us, there's only room for two of them to stand side by side," he whispered into Tarvos's ear. "We might actually have a chance to kill them."

  "And they might kill us," Tarvos whispered back. "Our aim us to get away. Not fight."

  "We might never find another spot with such favourable terrain," the other man whispered back. "What if they catch us later, out in the open?"

  "Hopefully they won't catch us anywhere. They'll go east, we'll go west and that'll be the last we'll see of them."

  They waited in tense apprehension as tbe rain grew heavier, until it was a grey curtain that hid everything more than a few yards away. Water fell over the overhang in a steady stream carrying with it dirt and dust and the occasional rock large enough to fit a sling. All four of them picked them up and tucked them into their clothing in case they needed them later. They were rough and scratchy and dripped water down the inside of Tarvos's clothing.

  Then they saw movement and froze, holding their breaths. As they watched, a human figure, nothing more than a silhouette in the driving rain, picked his careful way down the slope, steadying himself with one hand on the ground. He was followed by another, who slipped as the ground gave way under him. He fell on his bottom, cursing, and slipped until he almost took the first man with him. "Watch yourself, you idiot," the first man told him.

  The third man was the bandit Chieftain. Tarvos struggled to remember what his name had been, but then came the unmistakable shape of Skoll, his huge, hulking form hunched over as he picked his way carefully down the slope. Behind him were two last men who scrambled after the others as if afraid of being left behind. Beside him, Tarvos saw Fornjot mouthing the word 'Six' and gripping his spear tighter. Tarvos saw that the man wanted to fight them. To end the threat here and now, leaving them either in the spirit world if they lost or with an easy journey home if they won.

  But if they lost, Daphnis would be taken alive to be Skoll's wife, and after their lovemaking the night before she had told Tarvos about the kind of life Skoll would give her. A life of brutality in which her spirit would be crushed and every trace of rebellion extinguished until all that was left was a shell of the woman she had been. A life of misery in which she would never forget what had been taken from her. Fornjot might be willing to risk her meeting that fate, but Tarvos was not. Her best chance to escape Skoll's clutches lay not in fighting the bandits but in escaping them.

  As Fornjot tensed himself, therefore, Tarvos reached out and touched his arm. Fornjot turned his head to look at him and Tarvos shook his head firmly. In reply Fornjot nodded his head towards the bandits, who were totally unaware of their presence. They were continuing to descend, their backs to them. Easy targets for thrown slingstones. Tarvos and Fornjot could kill two of then easily, and then it would be four against four, with only two on each side able to engage each other at a time in the narrow space. Fornjot wanted to do it, and he stared at Tarvos in confusion, not understanding why he wasn't equally keen to take advantage of the situation.

  Tarvos shook his head again, more fiercely this time, and Fornjot sneered with disdain, but to Tarvos's relief he relaxed and settled back against the bare rock of the cliff. A short distance away the bandits continued to descend. "I can't see their tracks any more," they heard one of them say.

  "It's clear enough where they're going," another said.

  Then they were too far away for their voices to be heard above the hissing of the rain and Tarvos watched as the bandits passed out of sight around a curve of the rock. Then the four of them sat as the rain continued to fall, waiting for the bandits to be far enough away for it to be safe to continue their journey.