Our mare did just that.
The light was gone and the cold getting intense when the wagon in front of us turned off the road and jolted into an opening in the trees by the river. Obediently I turned our mare to follow, and we bumped down off the road with a thud that made Kettle curse. I smiled; there were few Buckkeep guardsmen who could have done better.
In a short time we halted. I kept to my seat, wondering, for I could not see a thing. The river was a black sweeping force somewhere to our left. The wind off it added a new note of damp to the cold. The pilgrims in the wagon ahead of us were shifting restlessly and talking in soft whispers. I heard Nik's voice speaking and saw a man lead his horse past us. He took the lantern from the tail of the wagon as he went by. I followed its passage. In a moment man and horse had passed into a long, low building that had been invisible in the dark.
'Get down, go inside, we'll spend the night here,' Nik instructed us as he rode past us, again. I dismounted and then waited to help Kettle down. As I offered her my hand, she looked almost startled.
'I thank you, kind sir,' she said quietly as I helped her down.
'You're welcome, my lady,' I replied. She took my arm as I guided her toward the building.
'Pretty damn well-mannered for a shepherd, Tom,' she observed in an entirely different voice. She gave a snort of laughter at the door and went inside, leaving me to go back and unhitch the mare. I shook my head at myself, but had to smile. I liked this old woman. I slung my pack over my shoulder and led the mare into the building where the others had gone. As I lifted her harness from her, I glanced around. It was one long open room. A fire had been kindled in a hearth at one end. The low-ceilinged building was of river rock and clay with an earthen floor. The horses were at one end, crowding around a manger full of hay. As I turned our mare in with the others, one of Nik's men came bringing buckets of water to fill a trough. The depth of manure at that end of the room told me this building was frequently used by the smugglers.
'What was this place originally?' I asked Nik as I joined the others around the hearth.
'Sheep camp,' he told me. 'The shelter was for the early lambing. Then later, we'd shear here, after we'd washed the sheep in the river.' His blue eyes were afar for a time. Then he gave a harsh laugh. 'That was a long time ago. Now there's not enough feed for a goat, let alone sheep like we had.' He gestured at the fire. 'Best eat and sleep while you can, Tom. Morning comes early for us.' His glance seemed to linger on my earring as he passed me.
Food was simple. Bread and smoked fish. Porridge. Hot tea. Most of it was from the pilgrims' supplies, but Nik put in enough that they did not object to feeding his men and Starling and me. Kettle ate by herself, from her own stores, and brewed her own pot of tea. The other pilgrims were polite to her and she was courteous in return but there was plainly no bond between them save that they were all going to the same place. Only the three children of the party seemed unafraid of her, begging dried apples and stories from her until she warned them they would all be sick.
The shelter soon warmed, from the horses and folk in it as much as from the hearth. Door and window shutters were closed tight, to keep in light and sound as well as warmth. Despite the storm and lack of other travelers on our path, Nik was taking no chances. I approved of that in a smuggler. The meal had given me my first good look at the company. Fifteen pilgrims, of mixed age and gender, not counting Kettle. About a dozen smugglers, of whom six had enough resemblance to Nik and Pelf that they were at least cousins. The others looked a mixed bunch, professionally tough and watchful. At least three were on watch at all times. They spoke little and knew their tasks well enough that Nik directed them very little. I found myself feeling confident that I would see at least the other side of the river, and probably the Mountain border. It was the most optimistic I'd felt in a long time.
Starling showed to her best advantage in such a company. As soon as we had eaten, she took out her harp, and despite Nik's frequent cautions to us to speak softly, he did not forbid the soft music and song she gave us. For the smugglers she sang an old ballad about Heft the highwayman, probably the most dashing robber that Buck had ever known. Even Nik was smiling at that song, and Starling's eyes flirted with him as she sang. To the pilgrims she sang about a winding river road that carried folk home, and finished with a lullaby for the three children in our midst. By then more than just the children were stretched out on bedrolls. Kettle had peremptorily sent me out to fetch hers from the back of her cart. I wondered when I had been promoted from driver to servant, but said nothing as I fetched it for her. I supposed there was something about me that made all elderly folk assume my time was at their disposal.
I unrolled my own blankets next to Kettle's and lay down to seek sleep. Around me most of the others were already snoring. Kettle curled in her blankets like a squirrel in its nest. I could imagine how much her bones ached with the cold, but there was little I could do for her. Over by the hearth, Starling sat talking to Nik. From time to time, her fingers wandered lightly over her harp strings, their silvery notes a counterpoint to her low voice. Several times she made Nik laugh.
I was almost asleep.
My brother?
My whole body jerked with the shock of it. He was near.
Nighteyes?
Of course! Amusement. Or do you have another brother now?
Never! Only you, my friend. Where are you?
Where am I? Outside. Come to me.
I rose hastily and redonned my cloak. The man guarding the door frowned at me, but asked me no questions. I walked into the darkness, beyond the pulled-up wagons. The snow had ceased and the blowing wind had cleared a patch of starlit sky. Snow silvered the branches of every bush and tree. I was casting about for his presence when a solid weight hit me in the back. I was flung face first in the snow and would have cried out, save that my mouth was full of snow. I managed to roll over and was trampled several times by a joyous wolf.
How did you know where to find me?
How do you know where to scratch when it itches?
I suddenly knew what he meant. I was not always aware of our bond. But to think of him now and to find him was suddenly no more difficult than to bring my two hands together in the dark. Of course I knew where he was. He was a part of me.
You smell like a female. You have taken a new mate?
No. Of course not.
But you share a den?
We travel together, as a pack. It is safer so.
I know.
For a time we sat in stillness of mind and body, simply adjusting to one another's physical presence again. I felt whole once more. I had peace. I had not known I had worried so much about him until the sight of him put my mind at rest. I sensed his unwilling agreement to that. He knew I had faced hardship and dangers alone. He had not thought I could survive them. But he had also missed me. He had missed my form of thinking, the sorts of ideas and discussions that wolves never shared amongst themselves. Is that why you came back to me? I asked him.
He stood up suddenly and shook himself all over. It was time to come back, he replied evasively. Then he added, I ran with them. They finally allowed me to be part of their pack. We hunted together, we killed together, we shared meat. It was very good.
But?
I wanted to be the leader. He turned and looked at me over his shoulder, his tongue lolling out. I am used to being the leader, you know.
Are you? And they would not accept you?
Black Wolf is very large. And quick. I am stronger than he is, I think, but he knows more tricks. It was much like when you fought Heart of the Pack.
I laughed quietly and he spun on me, lifting his lips in a mock snarl.
'Be easy,' I said quietly, warding him off with open hands. 'So. What happened?'
He flung himself down beside me. He is still the leader. He still has the mate and the den. He considered and I sensed him wrestling with the concept of the future. It could be different, another time.
'It could be,' I agreed. I scratched him gently behind the ear and he all but fell over in the snow. 'Will you go
