At dawn, waiting is all but intolerable as she walks round and round the small chamber in the back of the temple. She stops again to adjust the headscarf with impatient fingers, vowing never to wear one again once this is over. For now, it is necessary with so much at stake. She might lose what little freedom she has gained, or even her life. But if she wins...

She freezes. Is that the temple door? Squinting hard as if it might help her see through the walls, she tries to discern the source of the noise, all muted here in the back chamber. No need for windows here, where the hallowman keeps all the accoutrements used to invoke the good will and protection of the Herder.

But no steps are heard in the temple hall. Out in the street, there is a shout, the crack of a whip and muted bellowing. The slow, grinding rumble of an ox cart starts away and she releases her breath. Someone in the village unloaded something at the temple door, that's all. She resumes her impatient tramping, her footfall the only sound in a hallow abode otherwise steeped in silence.

For the who-knowsth time, she goes over her story in her mind. Not only to pass the time, but she knows that the least slip of the tongue may be her undoing. The week gave her time enough to put the details together but unless she pays attention to what she says, they might slip through her fingers and that she can't afford. All of it isn't lies, of course. That her parents are dead is true, taken by consumption years ago, her elder brother and sister taking charge of the family as best they could. That her siblings are too many and work too scarce back home is also no lie, reason enough to seek a better life elsewhere.

The real reason for her flight is another of course, but there's ample reason not to reveal that truth. She has learnt to keep that memory at bay, distracting herself in a myriad little ways whenever she isn't too busy just staying alive. But now, with no other thing to do but fret, her defence slips and it seizes her. Gasping, she stops dead in her tracks, squeezing her eyes shut, gripping her own arms with fingers digging like claws into her flesh and bunching up around her cramping stomach. Feeling again the likewise clawing fingers of that man, master of the farm where her brother sent her to work as a farm girl, the master paying good and sorely needed money for it... hearing again the man's sickly sweet words in the middle of the night, cajoling, speaking of debt, a debt for saving her from starvation, of receiving his due... calling her his little lamb while treating her as carrion, taking what he would and leaving her with hope trickling out of her like blood.

That first time was the worst. It was the only time with him, she ran away before he could get another chance. Then there were others, catching her off guard, before she learnt how to spot the wolves and stay clear of their slavering jaws. And in the end still others, for payment, just to survive. She still isn't sure which was worse. And she has no urge to work it out.

No, that's past now. Never more a man's hands on her. Herndel seems trustworthy. But you never know.

A gateway to power might be opening to her this very minute, if she can keep up the charade. Forcing herself to breathe deeply and unclutch her hands, she staggers on to resume her pacing and slowly, one step, one piece at a time, she regains herself.

That was then and this is now and she, in the guise of poor, innocent Ardele, has been lodged and fed by the hallowman, better than she's had since... well, ever, really. Good fare for poor Ardele, too terrified to return to the Solbeck farm on the other side of the forest where - Herder protect her! - the witch prowls. No, she won't go back until the witch is gone. Hopefully today, the Solbeck's expect her to stay the night in the shieling so they won't miss her yet anyway. Sure, they don't know that themselves but what matters is what Herndel believes.

The risk of the Solbeck people visiting the village before then isn't great. The next market is almost a month away and so soon after the last one, what reason would they have to come again? Before that happens, if her game pays off, she will be far away with a new, powerful ally by her side. Far, far away, hunting down wolves with wolves.

She catches herself with a grim smile that she can't afford to wear openly, checks her features in the mirror and again adjusts that blasted headscarf. Once this is over, she'll use it for tinder. But for now...

Again, she stiffens to listen. Is that...?

It is. The little temple door set in the great gate slams to and Herndel's light but never hurried, ever dignified footsteps approach. Heart racing and fingers fumbling, she straightens her dress and assumes her most demure pose, facing the chamber door.

His eyes, as he pauses on the threshold, one hand still holding the door, stops her rushing pulse and rings her heart in three slow, heavy knells as if it were the temple bell calling for silence at a funeral. She opens her dry mouth but finds no nerve to ask. Shapeless plans for escape start hovering at the back of her mind like distant thunderheads. Something is amiss.

Then he glances aside and enters, slowly closing the door behind him and then leaning against it. Is he blocking the only way out for her? Swallowing and moistening her lips with a dart of the tongue, she finally manages two croaked words. "Did you...?"

He looks up again, his clean-shaven, angular jaws working, brow slightly furrowed. "We caught the young woman you described. Clothes and hair like a man, slight of build. Aye. But no bear was there. Nor any dark-haired woman."

The air seems to squeeze on her chest like a noose, making breath short and speech impossible. Her eyes lose focus. No bear? What about Brun?

"There was an old woman," he continues, snapping her attention back to him. Ma Crowth? "She seemed frail and bent and we paid her no greater heed. The young witch on the other hand put up a greater fight than anyone expected, and of course they had to avoid looking her in the eyes, which made it difficult. Two of the tythingmen are being tended for bad bites, one will be one-eyed for a week and one has probably recovered by now from a solid kick in the..." He catches himself and clears his throat before continuing. "When she was finally subdued, bound and blindfolded, the old woman had disappeared without a trace. But there was no bear nor any other woman."

He takes a step towards her, draws his breath to say something, hesitates, shakes his head. "It was dusky there in the forest, was it not?"

Wrenne frowns at Herndel's words. She understands his doubts perfectly, but little dim Ardele would not and so she makes her face a study in puzzlement. "What do you mean, Herndel?"

"Well..." He coughs, moistens his lips. "Are you sure there really was a bear?"

Wrenne has practised in the mirror, so she knows just how round she can make her eyes and mouth. With that very mien, she nods fervently. "Why yes! A big, nasty, furry beast, just as I told you. Grunting and growling and that w-woman talking back as if it were human. No old woman at all."

"I see." Herndel purses his lips and shakes his head. "I still wonder if we have really caught the real witch. Perhaps the old woman was the real witch, taking the shape of a bear? And that young girl was under a spell?"

He looks again at Wrenne, searching her eyes for an answer. But she shakes her head slowly while her mind races. Ma Crowth and Arkteia there, alone? It doesn't sound right. But she must keep up the game. "She did not look bewitched to me when I saw them in the woods," she says. "Why do you believe that?"

Herndel shrugs and sighs, his gaze wandering off along the floor. "Just that all that she would say after she was caught was Don't send me back, over and over again as if in terror."

Wrenne's heart skips a beat. That certainly does not sound like Arkteia. More like...

Oh, no.

She has to swallow hard before speaking. "Do you think it is safe for me to look at her?"

She is blindfolded, bound and dirty, her hair is cropped and she wears different clothes, but Wrenne knows it's her, down there in the bear pit beneath a sturdy wooden grating locked to the ground. That manic girl, Lin-something. With no powers to offer whatsoever in exchange for her freedom. In the hidden corners of her mind, she curses and curses again. Who asked this daft ninny to go and dress up like Arkteia and get caught in her stead? At least old Ma Crowth had the sense to disappear. Having her down there as well would have been too much.

On the outside, she merely frowns and squints. "It does look like her," she whispers to Herndel by her side. "It was a little dark in the forest, of course, but there was the bear and then someone who looked like that." Deep breaths, mind racing, Wrenne tries to silence the cursing within and think. She will have to get the girl out of there, of course. But she wants Arkteia on the inside as well. Or all will be in vain.

Yes, and maybe there is a way...

"It looks like her," she repeats. "I don't want to see more, please take me away." She rests her hand lightly on his arm as he guides her away from the pit. As they leave, she shoots a radiant smile at the young farm hand appointed as guard, awkwardly holding his bronze-tipped old spear to what he seems to consider attention. She notes how he flushes and tries to look ahead while almost turning his eyes inside out trying to steal a glance at her. Might be useful to have him charmed.

Then she gives the arm a gentle squeeze and beams at the hallowman instead. "It feels safer now. Thank you so much, you really are a good man! I think I can go back to the Solbeck farm, now that she is not in the forest anymore but guarded by that young, strong man."

Herndel stops short and looks at her, searching, but she makes sure that her smile is firmly in place and her eyes wide with admiration.

"I am not sure it would be good of me to let you go back alone," he says. "The bear..."

Wrenne chuckles and gives him a friendly slap on the shoulder. "Oh, but I'll go around the forest. It'll take a little longer but surely that's perfectly safe? They must be wondering why I'm not back yet, though I told them I would stay the night in the shieling to do more foraging. I'll have to go back there to fetch the blanket and things they lent me later. Oh well," she sighs, "I'll come back with an empty sack but a good story!"

Herndel's jaw is working and his concern is plain. "I still feel you should not go alone. Let me send word to the Solbecks, or send one of the tythingmen..."

"Oh please don't!" she interrupts. "I've caused far too much trouble as it is. And after all your kindness to me, I feel I can trust in the protection of the good Herder. Don't you?" She cocks her head and raises her eyebrows. "Perhaps the good hallowman can send a prayer to the Herder that He may guide my steps on the way? Then I would truly be safe."

It seems to her that the hallowman is not altogether convinced of the Herder's powers of protection. So much for his faith... But she also knows that he will yield to her wish.

"You must promise me to stay out of the forest, young Ardele," he says, resting a very light hand on her shoulder, looking deeply into her eyes.

She nods and makes the sign against the evil eye, feigning a shudder. "I can almost feel the Merciless Hunter going to the forest to bring the witch bear down. Who would want to come between the Hunter and the prey?"

Hurrying towards Ma Crowth's cottage, she smiles grimly at her own words. If Herndel had but guessed that she had herself in mind when she spoke of the Hunter...

Finding out the whereabouts of the cottage while she was making her plans was a stroke of foresight for which she congratulates herself. Not counting on needing the knowledge, she still took care to find out what she could about the... well, the other players in this game. Ma Crowth counts as one player to be reckoned with. Villagers around spoke of her in tones ranging from fear through awe to gratitude, the latter in those whom she had delivered from maladies, wounds or childbirth.

The thought of the old woman makes her jaws clench. She isn't worried about Arkteia or Tirisi, but that old crow might be suspicious and perhaps sharp enough to see through her. So Wrenne will leave her no time for that, if she can help it.

When she smells smoke through the rich, earthy scent of autumn forest, she slows down and moves stealthily up the final stretch of the little track, skirting boulders, thickets and tree trunks that rise out of the moss like ponderous, lichen-bearded giants. Then just over a slight ripple of a ridge, the forest clears and the little hut comes into sight.

Wrenne is not sure what she expected, but there is nothing witch-like about the cottage. It is tiny but inviting, nestled between fruit trees, garden plots and a rose bush at the left gable, magnificent albeit barren this late in the year, save for the bright red spatter of rosehips still on their sprigs. By the south wall, to the side of the door, a bench made out of a cloven log provides a couple of seats before a neat trestle table. It is occupied by Ma Crowth and Arkteia, while Tirisi sits on a stool opposite the table and Brun on the ground beside her.

However she squints and strains her ears, Wrenne cannot tell what manner of talk they are having. Are they upset, resigned, sad or deeply immersed in planning a rescue? Whichever it is, they are hushed and restrained, giving out no clue.

Time to change that. Wrenn squares her shoulders, works herself up into a seeming agitation and then rushes down the track. As she crashes towards them, wild-eyed and panting, they freeze to watch her approach. When she is within talking distance, Arkteia opens her mouth but Wrenne forestalls her, blurting out her prepared phrase with well balanced frenzy. "I saw them take her to the bear pit! In village Lewden! We have to free her!"

Arkteia catches herself and frowns. "You saw them take Linder?"

Wrenne nods eagerly. Linder, that was the name and she will make sure to remember it now. "I was still undecided about joining you but I was going to the shieling to meet you anyway. I was almost there when I heard the fighting. I hid of course, and then I saw them take her towards Lewden. And they threw her into the pit." She frowns and looks hard at Arkteia as she delivers another carefully planned wording. "How did they know about the meeting, was it Ardele?"

She can tell by the glances they exchange that Ardele is not the only suspect they had discussed, at least until now. That's not surprising. But she gives them no chance to come up with some evasive answer. "It must have been. I mean, she said she wouldn't tell, but maybe her man beat it out of her. It sounded like he's a real savage!" She spits, then looks around hopefully, meeting but not holding their gazes. "Do you have a plan? Maybe I can help?"

Arkteia raises her hand with a strange half-smile. "Please, Wrenne, give us a chance to think and speak. We knew she was taken to Lewden, Ma Crowth also saw it, though she didn't see you."

Wrenne nods. "I was well hid I can tell you, I wouldn't want to be seen by that band!"

"Yes," Arkteia agrees levelly. "And we guessed she was thrown into the pit, and now we know it thanks to you. Did you see her?"

Wrenne waggles her head. "Only a glance. She was blindfolded so she didn't see me. I didn't dare to call out to her nor stay longer."

"Was she bound?" Tirisi asks.

"I..." Wrenne hesitates. "I think so. There are these wooden bars on top too, I think they're locked. And there's a guard." Drawing her breath, she lets her eyes drift aside as if lost in thought before she continues with a third deliberate phrase. "Perhaps I can lure the guard away? Tonight, so you can free her?"

They all regard her with wonder. Arkteia takes a step towards her, puts a hand on her shoulder. "Can you do that? Would you?"

Wrenne tosses her hair impatiently and shrugs the hand off. "Can I turn the head of a young fool? Didn't Tirisi tell you how she found me?"

Arkteia steps back, pale. "Surely you don't mean to..."

But Wrenne rolls her eyes. "Good grief, no! I won't let him near me. I'll find a way to get rid of him once he's away from the pit. But you'll need to be quick."

Ma Crowth rises from her seat with a chuckle. "I might have something useful," she says and with a few strides disappears into her cottage.

Before Wrenne has time to wonder nor worry about the old woman, Arkteia takes her hand and looks her in the eyes.

"Does this mean you are joining us?" she asks, almost hesitantly.

A moment of bewilderment, then it dawns on Wrenne. The hope in Arkteia's eyes shoots through her like a sudden pang of shame and she looks aside. "I'm still undecided, " she answers. "We'll set Linder free first. Then we'll see."

She tries to slip out of Arkteia's grasp but the woman doesn't let go. "Please think about it," she insists. "I have a feeling that good would come of it. For both of us. And perhaps..." Arkteia hesitates and Wrenne wonders, raises her eyes to fathom what it is the bear woman has in mind. The glitter in her eyes is unreadable but then she speaks her mind. "Perhaps we could be friends, you and I. I think I would like that."

Wrenne frowns and glances at Tirisi, but she wears her usual placid face and does not seem to listen. Then Ma Crowth comes back out, carrying a tiny earthenware jar, sealed with a wax stopper. "This is something I give to people with insomnia," she says and winks. "Too much is no good, but what's in here should be enough to give a guard sweet dreams through the night, if you can slip it in his drink. No need to risk getting... well, you know."

Wrenne frees her hand from Arkteia's, takes the little jar and weighs it in her hand. Then she looks up with a grim smile. No need to make an act of being pleased, this was truly an unexpected boon. "That sounds like a better idea. When do I make sure he's asleep?"

"As soon as the moon sets," Arkteia answers immediately.

Brun hums and grunts and Arkteia looks unsure. "I don't know," she says. "It might be good to have you around, but what about dogs?"

"I can wait with Brun outside the village," Tirisi says. "If anything goes wrong, we'll help if we can."

"Will Brun come with you?" Wrenne asks. "Are you sure? They've got bear catchers in the village. You saw their net? They were ready for her at the shieling, Ardele must have told them about Brun..."

"Yes," Tirisi interrupts, "that is why we'll wait outside. And they won't be expecting us tonight, will they, so why bring a net?"

Wrenne nods and shrugs, looking down as if in thought, not daring to look Tirisi in the eyes. "But what if you get caught as well?"

Arkteia answers for her friend. "Tirisi knows better than to try something that will let them catch her. If there are too many of them, she will stay hidden and work out a plan to free me later. And Brun will only scare them off if anyone comes by unexpectedly, not go barging into a fray of bear catchers."

Wrenne stores that away för later use, sucking her lips as if in misgivings. Then she shrugs. "If you think so," she says.

A pang of shame and doubt suddenly racks her. Friends, Arkteia said... from her lost age of innocence, there are memories of something called friendship. Then there was only betrayal, broken illusions... and now this bear woman invokes that bitter illusion, seems to believe in it herself. What if...

Then she collects herself, tightens the grip on herself that has kept her alive so far.

Friends, in her memories, would share. Well, let her have a chance then, just one. Wrenne looks up and meets Arkteia's eyes. "If I join you, will you teach me to hunt?"

The sparkle in Arkteia's eyes fades. "Hunt for living, yes. For revenge, no."

That was expected. Wrenne begins to turn away, but at an impulse she shoots one last plea at the bear woman, her eyes locking onto that faded sparkle. "Would you at least help me talk to those sisters to get an ally of my own? Please?"

At those words, the shutters behind Arkteia's eyes are again flung wide, stranding Wrenne in that marrow-freezing, dead landscape. Then Arkteia turns away, fumbling for a seat, leaving Wrenne blinking and dazed.

"You have no idea what you ask," she hears as if through a mist, but it is Tirisi's voice, not Arkteia's, and she is clearly upset. "You have no idea what it cost her. If you knew the price for such a request, you wouldn't dare to ask."

Wrenne glares at her. "But..."

"No," Arkteia says, silencing both Tirisi and Wrenne. "It is a fair question, since she doesn't know."

"Then if you want us to be friends," Wrenne groans, "tell me!"

Arkteia leans back against the tarred timber wall of the cottage. Her cloak slips aside and for the first time, Wrenne can see the slight bulge on her belly. "I understand you were raped," she says. "Well, so was I! What price is so terrible that you won't tell me?"

Arkteia heaves a sigh as deep as the night of midwinter, then looks up, her shutters again carefully closed and barred. "I want us to be friends so that I can tell you my story, but I cannot tell it to you to make us friends. Tirisi knows what price I have paid only because she has proven herself time and again. I trust her with my life. I hope one day to say the same of you, Wrenne." She looks at Ma Crowth with a weak smile. "Perhaps one day, with enough friends around me to share it with, it will not seem such a burden anymore."

"You tell me in due time, my child," the old woman says kindly. "I'm in no hurry."

As silence falls, Wrenne finds herself watched by four expectant pairs of eyes. Friends share, a faint echo from long ago tells her. But what comes first, friendship or sharing?

Then that soft echo of yesterday is drowned out by the harsh sneer of today. Survival comes first. And for that you need power. She draws herself up and meets their eyes, manages a smile that is neither yes nor no. "Come to the village with the setting moon, then. I'll do my bit, you make sure to do yours. Then we'll talk again."

Before she can betray her disappointment, she turns on her heels and leaves Ma Crowth's hut behind.