After the Val had disappeared into the woods, bow in hand and sword at his side, the hours passed even more slowly than the lazy course of the Brown. Every wild rustle that arose around it was superimposed on the next in a long anxious flow. The anguish that this sudden abandonment by Ulrick caused me still exceeded my fear of seeing him return in time for the evening blows. In a confusing way and in retrospect completely unfair, I had chosen to hold him personally responsible for the transformation of this day of rest into a succession of squeaky moments that sheared what nerves I had left. Before leaving me, the Val had coldly explained to me that, in case he had not returned the next morning, I would have to head for Culon, but he had also made me understand that I would have as much chance of doing so as of escaping from the jail in Brown-Horn without his help. Unable to forget the warrior's warning, I ruminated throughout the morning, while startling at the slightest noise in the forest. My imagination and this sudden solitude fed my anxiety and the forest added a layer of it. I almost died of fear when around noon, in a crash that I wrongly identified as an army of brigands who had come to slash me, a herd of dwarf deers trotted across the shady end of the clearing.

As I had nothing else to do to take my mind off things, I greased Ulrick's weapons with suspicion, my gaze twirling between my sticky work and the yellowing foliage of the forest. I hated the ease with which I obeyed him almost as much as I hated the Val himself.

Nevertheless, I was worried about Ulrick, even if in my present situation I was unable to admit it. In spite of the implacable force emanating from the Val, I could not help thinking that our invisible pursuer could probably be the assassin. I had not forgotten the brutal and feline aspect of the man from Franlake, and it seemed to me that this killer was one of the rare individuals who could measure up to the vaïdogan. And then, at the very bottom of the ravine of my most secret terrors, there was one that my mind barely dared to touch and which contemplated me from below, with the black eyes of the Seïd. I hadn't dreamed since I left Brown-Horn, but my fear of the demon had not diminished, and I don't know why, I feared that it could still find my trace, even on this side of the Brown.

I had the horses to keep me company, but Berda seemed to be sulking because the Val had tied her up before leaving, and Pike had made a clear choice between the grass of the meadow and my quest for consolation.

I still lacked appetite when I had finished passing the rind over my mail, and reluctantly forced myself to swallow what was left of the beans from the day before. I chewed without appetite, the cold beans turned under my teeth into a heavy paste that stuck to my palate and which I swallowed with difficulty. I then tried to rest a little, but it soon became clear that my heightened nervousness, combined with the variations in the voice of Vaw, would prevent me from finding any refuge in my sleep. So I decided to take Berda for a walk so that she could graze more. As soon as I had untied her tether, I regretted my compassionate initiative.

The rigan mare first ventured to the edge of the woods where Ulrick had disappeared, dragging me behind her as I would have pulled a rat myself at the end of a thread. Then, after hesitating, she turned back, ignoring my cajoling and insults, and since I didn't dare let go of the tether, I had to make up my mind to spend my time following her in her wanderings. To my relief, the mare did not leave the clearing, but she seemed to take a malicious pleasure in showing me who was really in charge when Ulrick was gone. The hours unraveled slowly as Berda pulled me back and forth. Soon exhausted, I had no choice but to become her toy for the afternoon. As night fell, in search of oats, the war mare eventually ventured close enough to the camp that I could pass her tether around a low branch of the large oak tree. I managed somehow to prevent the looting of our provisions, even though she glanced at me ferociously from time to time, she had finally lost interest when I had moved the edibles out of her reach. As I tried to rekindle the campfire that the mare's whims had prevented me from maintaining, I realized that I had developed the same resentful respect for Berda that I had for her master.

The water was simmering in the tin pot, and I threw in enough tubers for two, while waiting for Ulrick's return with growing anxiety. In the darkness that seemed to palpitate around me, the night birds were uttering their strange songs, the fire was crackling and spitting, and in the background there was this soft thunder that was born in the bellies of the horses. I scanned the shadows, watching for the slightest crack in the undergrowth, jumping at each squall and each yelp. Then, far to the south, somewhere between the shredded rocks from the heights of Culon, a pack of wolves began to converse, and I shivered to the ground near the flames, terrified by their gloomy howls. I knew I would not sleep through the night, not until the Val returned, and the thought filled me with both exasperation and despair. After a good hour, my tubers began to sizzle for lack of water, and it was by swearing that I removed the smoking pot from the fire.

Suddenly Berda neighed softly and I looked up. The fresh dew reflected the pale light of the stars. Something was moving in the thicker night under the trees. I frowned as I probed the darkness. There was a creaking sound. An indistinct silhouette approached the camp in long strides through the glistening grass in the clearing. I bit my lip, torn between panic and hope, before sneaking away behind the large oak tree. My outstretched fingers clung to the rough bark. I could hear footsteps now, heavy footsteps getting closer and closer. I held my breath, my heart pounding.

"Sletling? Are you there?"

I breathed out slowly, a long relieved stream, before emerging from my hiding place.

Ulrick stood by the fire, feeling the overcooked tubers. When he saw me, the Val waved at me and I joined him near the flames. My fright had quickly dissolved, giving way to the usual fearful confusion. In the distance, the wolves were still howling, with long moans that seemed to stretch to infinity. Without being able to really explain it, I felt pensive. It was a wolf day, it seemed to me, and I hadn't been up to the task. Ulrick chewed on a tuber loudly, all the while making a grimace. "I'm going to have to teach you how to cook too," he said in a tone so ordinary that it contrasted furiously with the fear that had gripped me since he had left, and even more so with what must have happened earlier in the woods. I shrugged my shoulders without finding appropriate words.

Ulrick emptied the tubers onto the grass by the fire, while staring at me with his sparkling eyes. "We'll try to save your potatoes," he continued after a short silence. I involuntarily pouted, and the Val looked at me with an indifferent eye.

Ulrick put some bacon in the bottom of the pan, then he pulled a rabbit from a rough package that I didn't recognize and began to cut up the carcass in the steaming fat. It made my mouth water when Ulrick added a little salt and some herbs, and then finally my tubers which he sliced. I was suddenly hungry, very hungry, for the first time since we left Woody. As I did not take my eyes off the jar sizzling, the Val bent down and snapped his fingers near my ear to get my attention. As I raised my face toward him, I noticed the dried blood that was in his thick hand. Ulrick again reached into his pouch, and this time he pulled out a head.

It was a human head, which he held by its curly hair. The shadow casted by the flames filled every cavity, as if the darkness oozed out of his eyes, nose and twisted mouth. I moved backwards.

"Did you know him?" Ulrick asked me in a surprised voice. I shook my head. "Are you sure?" insisted the Val, ogling me with interest. "Look at him well." I took a deep breath. "Yes," I said weakly. "I don't know him." Ulrick spat in the fire.

"That's what I thought," he said darkly, and he put the head in the grass next to him. Even from this angle, I couldn't take my eyes off the hollow eye sockets.

Our pursuer was not more than twenty years old. "I shot too high," Ulrick grumbled. "We'll never know. He followed us from Woody, no doubt. Look how stupidly we die for a handful of money, Sletling. Take a good look, and remember." I looked up with two frightened eyes at the scarred face of the val-warrior. "But he must have known he couldn't kill you," I said in a small voice, as if to defend the dead man.

Ulrick shook his head. "That wasn't his intention, Sletling. He wouldn't have tried to kill me. He only wanted to know where we were going so he could sell you to the man from the League. Thin as he was, he wasn't eating much." The Val spat into the flames again.

"Gedesleffe," he concluded, bitterly.

We ate a little later, and I was surprised to find that the company of the severed head hadn't spoilt my appetite. We literally devoured the rabbit and sponged off the fat with a few thin slices of dry bread. "You can thank the tracker for this rabbit," Ulrick said, pointing to the brown curls on the head. "He's the one who caught it." In spite of my satisfied and distended stomach, I immediately felt a touch of guilt. The warrior coughed. "Here. There's this too. I forgot to ask Reut for one when we were in Woody." The Val handed me a thick belt of worn leather, which I grabbed hesitantly. The dark streaks that stained the leather were too sharp for me not to notice. "It will help you better with the mail than your strap," he said. I contemplated the object that had belonged to the dead man, horribly frightened, and at the same time I was excited at the thought of accompanying a man as dangerous as the val-warrior.

"You've already killed many men?" I asked, surprised by my own audacity. Ulrick pouted and added a log to the fire. "Yes," he replied in a flat voice, while watching the embers. "How many?" I insisted, before regretting my persistence. The Val looked up at me.

"A lot," he grunted more rudely. I swallowed, before bending my knees under my chin to look at the fire. The night air cooled very quickly and the burning nostrils of the horses emitted small clouds of condensation with each deep breath. The Val straightened up and cracked his back. "Come on, Sletling," he said, rolling his shoulders. My heart suddenly accelerated. The feverish admiration that I had felt a few moments earlier disappeared entirely, only to leave room for a cold and desperate little knot, stuck somewhere in my gut. I briefly wondered how I had managed to forget it, and then I was on my feet too, my eyes full of hate and fear.

"We have a long way to go tomorrow, we'd better get some sleep," Ulrick continued, staring at me strangely. "We don't fight tonight?" I breathed in a strangled voice. The Val shook his head and unfastened his weapon belt. "Not tonight, Sletling," he said softly, without looking at me. "Tomorrow."

The next morning, we set out again at dawn, and our walk lasted another four days. The further south we went, the steeper and more rocky the landscape became, and the trees were scattered. The sandstone of Culon heights had been carved by water, so that we often encountered gullied canyons, which we had to bypass, and standing stone columns emerging from between the trees, which Ulrick called fairy chimneys. The forest never really stopped, but grew wider, clinging to the jagged stone with roots as stiff and outstretched as a dead man's hands. It was a very game-rich area, and not an hour went by without seeing the tail of a hare, a dwarf doe or a chamois.

One evening, at bedtime, we witnessed from afar the battle of two large stags, which were charging each other again and again at the bottom of a gorge and whose clash of antlers resounded for miles around.

Ulrick kept his word, and our nightly confrontations resumed. The day after our departure, I got a new shiner.

Nevertheless, despite the landscape that sometimes climbed steeply, I suffered much less from walking. It was no longer raining, even though a twisting wind had begun to blow and the nights were getting considerably cooler. My boots were starting to break in, I no longer had blisters and, despite the bruises and the weight of the mail, I was no longer dragging behind and I was less tired. Of course, my new belt was helping to distribute the weight of my armor better, but, above all, as the Val had predicted, I was starting to make muscle. It wasn't very impressive and the changes were so undetectable that I couldn't see the difference myself. Yet I was getting sharper. My whole body was hardening and tightening.

At the same time, my anger at Ulrick grew slowly but surely, like a small ember that I meticulously maintained throughout the day, which I fed with his ankyloses, his grunts of effort and his rare falls, when he sometimes slipped on the wet stone. I began to wait for the evening, not with impatience, as the fear remained, but with my newfound strength, I tried to hurt him. I couldn't do it, of course, but I kept telling myself that one day, one day soon, I would succeed. What I couldn't stand the most was the way he would behave with me when he didn't hit me, that awful ability to not notice the hatred I had for him. The hits, which only lasted a few moments on the scale of a whole day, had become the norm for me, the only thing I expected from Ulrick, and when he was patient or caring, it filled me with a black and confused rage. I particularly hated the habit we had of sleeping together in the rain to keep us out of the cold.

When on the tenth day we reached the last summit, we could see below a wooded area coiled between the tops. Ulrick showed me from a distance the plumes of smoke that betrayed the presence of Culon and, a little further south, the Long-Vein copper mines, nestled in front of us, against the opposite side of the valley. "We're going down a little more Sletling, and then we'll start looking for a place to spend the winter," he told me as I gazed down at the valley, and the wind blew my hair down into my eyes. I couldn't wait for it to grow back to a more comfortable length. I sniffed without answering, and the Val resumed speaking while adjusting Berda's tether for the descent. "We're three or four days away from Culon. We must have crossed the border with Cover-Pass last night. We are walking on the land of the lords of Vaw now." Without waiting for an answer, he led the horses down the rocky slope. I followed him.

We searched for a stream while walking, then, after Ulrick discovered a small torrent babbling at the bottom of a gully, we followed its course to the south. At the end of the day, we came upon a suitable, almost perfect spot, whose splendor made me forget my resentment for a while. The gorge that we were walking along ended abruptly and opened on a beautiful grassy plateau, dotted with many birches, whose the white bark glittered in the setting sun, and whose the blood-red leaves reflected the blazing sun that was declining on the horizon.

Between the bright trunks of the birches grew a dense fescue, still fat for the season, whose stems had not yet begun to yellow. The pebbly stream, swollen by a few other gullies, crossed the plateau from side to side, from southwest for more than a mile, before leaving in a series of foaming waterfalls, where the drop in elevation resumed. The clear water hammered the mossy sandstone, sank into the deeper forest below, and sang between the stones before being swallowed up by the trees down the valley.

The gully by which we had arrived cut through a small uneven cliff, overhung by pine trees, sufficient to shelter us from the north wind and heavy snow. We had a breathtaking view to the east, where the plateau had been cut sharply, sitting on top of the colorful foliage that extended beyond it to the foothills of the Thorns. The mountains were distant peaks against the clear line of the sky, with only slightly darker sketches against the azure. To the west, the woods were more accessible and the plateau receded into a gentler slope, then the peaks twisted southward like a tangle of carved spines.

Somewhere on the other side must have streamed the Brown. The Val nodded in approval at the sight of the wooded slope, while mumbling something about hunting and dead wood.

The plateau was only a few days walk from the invisible road that curved at the bottom of the valley to connect Culon to Whitewood, which meant double the distance for those who would attempt the ascent towards us. Ulrick had insisted many times on the value of our solitude: the isolation of the plateau would help to preserve us from any undesirable contact. The woods of Vaw were home to as many wolves on four legs as wolves walking upright, and Ulrick had already explained to me that we had much more to fear from the latter than from the former. I helped the warrior unload the horses, and we temporarily set up the canvas against the cliff side, supported by a few large hazel tree poles and weighed down on the ground by a handful of smooth pebbles. I turned around to breath when we were finished. With my hands on my hips, my eyes scanned the horizon that seemed to spread from the tip of my boots to the end of the world.