She looked at Lief and mentally added another day. His legs stiffened even more in the cold, and the high mountains were always colder. A sickness in his belly that sometimes made him bend over in pain had also plagued him recently. They had gathered a supply of fungus from the bark of birch trees that eased the problem, and it seemed to be helping, but he was still slower than usual.

They would spend one night on the mountain, Zena decided, build a fire and cook deer meat and bread, and other food they found along the way. She had seen berries on some bushes, and wild plums. That would be very pleasant.

They climbed slowly but steadily, enjoying the fine day and pausing often to rest and admire the sweep of land below, the brilliant blue of the sky above. The air itself seemed to sparkle in the sunlight, and they were content.

When the light began to fade, they stopped on the sheltered side of a deep ravine. They made a small fire and sat quietly looking out at the views and working on projects they had brought with them. Lief had left his bow and some arrows with the men in Runor's village as a parting gift and was making a new one, as well as some new arrows, while Zena repaired their clothing. Since she had no sinew, she used thread made from long grasses twisted together. Then they shared a fine meal of meat, bread they had made from grains, and fruit.

When it was too dark to see, they snuggled close inside their furs and watched the stars slowly appear. They were so brilliant, Zena thought with wonder. Even without the moon, they gave enough light so she could see Lief's face, close to her own. What made them so bright, and why were they always in the same places? Some moved, but always along predictable paths, so that she could tell the seasons from their position. Others were always in exactly the same place, providing a welcome sense of direction.

"To fly up among the stars would be fine," Lief murmured sleepily, picking up her thoughts as he so often did. "When I return one day to the Mother I will go up and see them, I think."

Zena shivered in his embrace, horrified at the thought. "You must not do that for a long time," she answered. "How would I live without you?"

Lief stroked her face gently. "You would live," he said confidently. "You must live. You are Zena."

She sighed. "Sometimes to be Zena makes me weary."

"Then let us pretend we are two other people for a time," Lief answered. "We can make up stories as we travel."

Zena brightened. "That is a good idea! Perhaps we could be lovers fleeing our village because I am being forced to take a horrible old man as mate, and you are the one I love above all others."

"And the leader of the village is chasing after me, seeking revenge," Lief added, holding her closer. They traded ideas until they fell asleep.

They woke to clouds and intermittent rain, but the day was windless, and they trudged on, making up more stories to pass the time. Zena suspected Lief suffered more than he allowed her to see from his ailments, but she also felt a deep happiness in him, especially now that they were alone again and able to come together in Akat whenever they liked, and that gave her great pleasure.

By the time they reached the slopes that led to the final pass, Zena felt as if she could almost smell home. Sorlin and Hular knew the route they were taking and would be watching for them, might even come up part way to greet them, and the village would be waiting...

Lief's expression dampened her optimism. "I do not like the look of that sky," he said uneasily. He felt the tingling again, too, and knew they were being watched, but he did not tell Zena that.

Zena looked up and saw that he was right. A filmy haze covered the sky, not obliterating it completely, but causing it to give off a strange purplish light. That could mean a storm was coming, but sometimes the haze, and the threat, moved on to the next valley, leaving only a sprinkle behind. If the westerly winds held, that would probably happen.

The air turned damp and cold as they climbed higher, and a thin fog spread across the slopes. Shivering, they stuffed their boots with soft grasses to make them warmer and pulled on leggings and fur capes and caps, glad now to have them. In the mountains, to be prepared for any kind of weather was wise.

The way quickly became steeper, and almost all the slopes were covered with the loose rock they had seen from below. They decided to climb in a ravine that seemed to lead to the pass, though it was hard to be sure in the fog. If they could get over the top before a storm came - if one came - they would be all right, Zena reassured herself.

They did not speak but saved their energy for climbing. They must be very high, Zena thought, because her breath came in gasps. She had not realized how high the pass above her Kyrie was. Lief was gasping too, but whether it was from the effort of climbing with his stiff legs or the thin air she could not tell. He kept going anyway.

Half way up the wind hit them. It came from all sides, making everything around them, leaves and twigs and even branches, swirl through the air. They lowered their heads and forced their way through it.

Then, unexpectedly, another danger came blasting through the wind. Arrows, Lief realized, and felt his body recoil with shock. Men were shooting arrows at them! One flew past his head; another thunked into the rocky slope beside him.

He spotted one of the attackers behind a rock. Pulling a newly finished arrow out of his quiver, he shot it at the man, grateful that he had strung his bow. He did not wait to see if the arrow found its quarry. Instead, he reached urgently for Zena and pulled her down to the ground. As he did, he felt a sickening thump in the back of his shoulder. Piercing pain followed. He cried out, and Zena turned her face up to him, alarmed.

He must not let her know the arrow had hit him, Lief thought frantically. If she knew she would try to defend him, and then she might be killed. He must get rid of the arrow, too, so she would not see it protruding from his back. He could not do it now, though. Zena would see what he was doing, and so would the attackers. Later, when it was safe to walk again, he would pull the arrow out.

He lay perfectly still for a long time, holding Zena under him. To stay where they were was dangerous, but he did not think their attackers could see them well in the swirling fog and wind as long as they did not move. And if they did shoot, Zena was safe beneath him.

"Who was it?" Zena's voice was muffled.

"A hunter perhaps, who saw our movements and thought we were game," Lief replied, trying to make his voice sound normal despite the waves of pain stabbing relentlessly at his shoulder and the faintness that assaulted him.

He hoped Zena would believe the explanation, though he did not himself. No hunter would come into the mountains when a storm threatened. But if not hunters, who were they? If there had been only one man, he would have suspected that the mysterious watcher really was following them, intent on revenge for some reason he did not understand. But many men made even less sense. Why would they attack at a time like this, when they were in the mountains in fog and wind and a bigger storm seemed imminent?

Zena did not believe the explanation either, but she had no other ideas, so she focused on Lief. She did not like the sound of his breathing. It was still labored from the climb, but also shallow. She must get him home quickly, she thought. He was not as well as he pretended to be.

No more arrows came, and Lief decided the attackers must have left, deterred by the fog and the relentless winds. Creeping away from Zena on hands and knees, he stood up slowly, keeping his back turned so she would not see the arrow stuck in his shoulder. Dizziness threatened to swamp him but he managed to fight it back.

Zena peered into the wind and fog behind them. "I think they have gone," she murmured.

"Yes," he agreed, still keeping his back carefully turned away from her. She nodded and began to climb again, her head lowered against the wind.

Lief waited until she was a short distance ahead, then he reached back with his right hand and pulled with all his strength at the arrow, grunting with the effort. The shaft broke off so suddenly that he lost his balance and fell back against a boulder, his arm still twisted behind him. As he hit the rock, the sharp point of the broken shaft plunged deeply into his palm. Wincing, Lief hauled himself upright and pulled the shaft out again. Nausea rose in his throat; he swallowed it, paying no attention to the pain that caused it. All he could think of was the need to protect Zena, to keep her from knowing if he could.

Hardly aware of the movement, he thrust the broken shaft into his quiver and peered at his palm. There was blood all over it, and the wound looked deep. More blood oozed slowly out, and his hand throbbed with a dull, aching pain. He flexed his fingers; they felt stiff, unyielding. He wondered vaguely if the arrow in his back had penetrated as deeply. That wound throbbed, too, but mostly it burned as if a fire had been lit inside him.

He ought to have a knife ready, he realized with an effort, in case the attackers came back. He pulled it out but his hand could hardly grasp it. He was about to put it away when the man struck. Leaping out from behind another boulder, he wrestled Lief to the ground. The attacker's beard was encrusted with snow and ice, and his head and body were so swaddled in coverings that Lief could not tell who he was. All he knew was that the man had inhuman strength. Panic poured through him as the massive arms encircled him. How could he break such a savage grip? But he had to, had to get back to Zena...

Grunting with the effort, Lief struck out with his knife. His hand seemed not to work, and the blow was weak. He tried with his other hand but that was no better. He felt the man's huge hands move up his body to his neck and close around it, begin to squeeze...

With strength born of sheer desperation, Lief twisted away from his assailant's heavy body and struggled to his feet. The man rose to face him. He was as wide as he was tall, with limbs as thick as trees, and Lief could feel the hatred emanating from him. He caught a glimpse of the man's eyes as he pulled out a long knife, and saw confidence in them, and triumph. This time, his assailant expected to kill him. He raised an enormous arm, ready to drive the blade home.

Petrified, Lief thrust out with his own knife and at the same time gave the man's body a heavy shove with his good shoulder. Taken by surprise, his opponent stumbled and the knife dropped from his hand. Lief shoved again, harder, propelling his whole body into the man with the frantic energy of terror. His adversary lunged, hands upraised as if to clasp Lief around the neck again. It was a savage lunge, and it made him careless. He was standing below Lief, and when his foot slipped on the icy rocks, he fell heavily, rolled and fell again; then he tumbled out of control down the steep side of the mountain.

Breathing hard, trying not to faint, Lief stood still, waiting to see if the man would return. The sound of his falling body had stopped but the swirling fog made it impossible to see where he had landed or if he was still moving. No further noise came, no sign of movement.

Slowly, haltingly, Lief climbed toward Zena again. He did not try to overtake her but stayed behind so she would not see his unsteady steps or the blood on his back or hand, or know that he had fought with one of the attackers.

Suddenly, without warning, snow was all around them, hard and heavy. No light flurries or tentative flakes came first as they usually did, giving mountain travelers a chance to go down before the storm worsened. The stinging onslaught flew straight into their eyes, making it even harder to see through the whirling debris and hazy air.

"To have snow so late in the season is strange," Zena said when he came close enough to hear. "Perhaps we should go down the mountain and find shelter."

While they stood uncertainly, the wind shifted again. Now it was blowing straight up the ravine, and there was no longer any possibility of going down. It would be too hard to see. Wearily, they began to climb again, the wind shrieking at their backs.

"It might be calmer at the summit," Zena shouted, "if we can crest it."

As abruptly as all the other changes, the fog thickened, as if a massive cloud had poured up the mountain to engulf them. Zena could hardly see her hands. She reached for Lief, but he was too far behind. She waited until she heard his faltering footsteps; then reached out again until she felt his fingers clasp hers.

"Hold on and do not let go," she shouted, and hoped he could hear above the noise of the wind. The answering pressure of his fingers told her he had. His left hand, at least, had some use, Lief thought gratefully as he held on to Zena's fingers, though most of his arm seemed not to work because of the wound in his shoulder.

Snow clung to their legs and faces, wet, heavy spring snow that made the rocks even more slippery and treacherous. It piled up quickly and soon they could not see what was rock and what was hollow. The wind was an endless, painful noise that made Zena want more than anything to put her hands over her ears, but she dared not let go of Lief. She would lose him in moments.

And then she did lose him. With a wrench that pulled her to her knees, his hand was torn from her grasp. She thought she heard the muffled sound of something falling but it was hard to tell through the wind.

"Lief!" she screamed. "Lief, are you all right?"

There was no answer. Still on her knees, Zena began to crawl back, feeling with her hands, hoping desperately they did not encounter empty space where he had been. Except they had still been in the ravine; she was almost sure they had, and surely there were no cliffs in ravines...

Her hands crept up a rock; beyond it, they felt nothing but cold air. She felt one side, then another, trying to peer through the haze, aching to hear some small noise, anything at all. "Lief!" she screamed again. "Lief, where are you!"

"Here." The voice was weak but she was sure she heard it. Zena's whole body trembled with relief.

The voice came again." Wait. I will come up. The drop was not far."

Lief rubbed his head, vaguely aware that he had hit it hard. The new injury seemed to take his mind from the others. He wondered how he could climb with only one arm and an almost useless hand. He was so cold now that he could not feel much at all, so perhaps he could manage.

"I will throw down a rope," Zena shouted. "Try to find it, so it can guide you. I can pull you up if you tie it around you."

Tie it, Lief thought ponderously. I must tie it around me.

Zena pulled out the rope they always brought when they traveled. One end she dropped slowly into the empty space, the other end she wound firmly around the rock to give her leverage. The rope disappeared into nothingness, and she waited. After a long time, she felt a gentle tug and then a stronger one that meant Lief wanted her to pull. Arms straining, she braced her feet against the rock and hauled the rope in slowly, hand over hand, glad that Lief was not a heavy man.

Within moments she heard a scraping sound and then Lief's head appeared. With one last hard pull, he slithered over the rock and collapsed beside her. For a moment unconsciousness claimed him; then the touch of her hand rallied him.

"At least my legs are not sore," he said faintly, wanting to know if he could still speak, but wanting even more to reassure Zena. "I am too cold to feel them."

Relief made Zena laugh. It was hysteria more than amusement, but the warmth of the sound seemed to Lief to create a protective cocoon around him, momentarily erasing his pain and the terrible coldness of his body.

"We must find shelter," Zena said when she regained control. "We can make a snow fort under a cliff and wait out the storm."

"First, we should get out of the wind," Lief answered, hoping he had the strength to try. He wanted to say more, but found he could not.

Zena said the words for him. "I think we are near the top now, and if we can get to the other side, we will be protected."

He nodded. So often that was the case in the mountains. On one side of a pass the wind could be relentless, freezing them quickly, but the other side could be calm. They could build a good shelter and he could rest, he thought with longing. Surely he would feel better as soon as he could rest.

"It is worth a try," Zena said, looking worriedly at Lief. His face was very pale despite the harsh winds that chafed it, and his legs seemed unsteady. He must have hit his head harder than she had realized. Perhaps that was why he was so weak.

"I will tie us together with the rope," she told him, but she had to blow hard on her fingers and tuck them under her arms before she could knot it around her waist.

"But then I could pull you over if I fall," Lief objected weakly.

"We will have to take the chance," Zena replied grimly, struggling to manipulate the stiff rope and get it tied around Lief. His fingers must be even colder than hers, she realized. He could barely make them work.

"If I fall you would be pulled over, too," she added. "Besides, I am not sure either of us can survive this storm alone."

Lief nodded reluctantly. She was right. Two bodies, two sets of furs made more warmth than one. And on this night, warmth would make the difference between life and death for Zena. For himself, he was not sure it mattered. Ignoring the faintness that kept threatening to overcome him, he followed her.

For what felt like hours to Lief but was probably less, they half-walked, half-crawled up the ravine, feeling always with their hands to make sure they were still in it. Gradually the ground beneath them became smoother, no longer filled with the debris washed down when the snows melted, but more like alpine meadow.

Abruptly, the wind rose into a fierce crescendo, pushing them so hard they dared not stand lest it topple them over. They inched ahead on hands and knees, gasping for breath, and suddenly they realized they were going down. Not up, but down.

Cautiously, they crawled a little further until Lief was brought to an abrupt halt by the slack in the rope. Zena had stopped moving. Anxiety washed over him, and he peered ahead to see what was wrong.

"The wind! The wind has gone." Zena's voice filled with wonder. "We must be over the top."

"Over the top," Lief repeated, unable for a moment to think what the words meant. Then the meaning came, and he slumped down into the snow. "Yes. We are over the top."

Zena crawled over to him, frightened by his terrible exhaustion. For her, the ordeal was bad but for Lief, weakened by the illness in his belly, unable to move without pain, it must be almost unendurable. She was sure now that he had hit his head very hard, though he still had not spoken of it. Pulling him into her arms, she cradled his limp body against her own.

"I will be all right," he murmured. "I must just rest for a moment." Breathing hard, he fought to stay conscious through a haze of pain.

"Fire," Zena said. "We must have a fire." As she spoke she remembered the first time she had uttered these words to Lief, when they had gone together to save the infant, and Lief had shivered in the cold rain while she spoke to the women in their Ekali. It seemed a lifetime ago.

She must take charge now. Lief was too weak, weaker than he should be, she thought with momentary panic. Pushing her fear away, she concentrated on the problem of finding shelter. Mercifully, both the fog and the driving snow were lessening without the wind, and she could see again, at least a little. There was a ridge jutting up just ahead, with another ridge behind it. If the hollow between the ridges was deep enough it would offer some shelter. They could go there, build a snow fort, or at least burrow into the snow and build up walls around them for warmth. Then they could start a fire.

"Can you go as far as that ridge?" she asked, pointing. Lief followed her gesture and nodded, though he was not sure it was true. His mind seemed to be somewhere else now, and his body felt heavy and useless, as if it wanted only to sink down into the snow and never move again. He moved anyway, half-crawling to the depression between the ridges, shaking his head to throw off the dizziness. The effort buoyed him, made him feel as if he might be able to retrieve some strength after all.

For a moment, he was even able to help Zena as she began to dig out a cave-like space under the highest ridge. His strength deserted him quickly and he lay down again, watching her. Zena made no comment but just kept digging. When the cave was deep enough to satisfy her, she brought out the tinder they kept in birch bark canisters, but the snow wet it so fast it was useless.

"We must make a better cave instead of having a fire," she said determinedly. "If we make it thick and build up walls, we can keep each other warm inside."

Lief watched helplessly as she piled the wet clinging snow as high as she could around the cave, and when that was finished, lined the bottom and sides with their grass capes. He crawled in after her, grateful to be able rest at last. Only then did she turn her full attention to him. Pulling off his fur cap, she surprised him by first examining his head. He had forgotten that he had hit it when he fell.

Zena's exploring fingers found a lump but she did not think it explained Lief's terrible weakness by itself. His stomach ailment must be worse. That could make people very ill. She picked up his hand to comfort him and was startled when he winced. Her eyes dropped to the hand, saw the blood, the wound.

"How did that happen?" she asked, horrified by the deep, jagged tear.

"Arrow," Lief mumbled indistinctly, feeling too weak now to lie.

"Arrow? Did one of the arrows hit your hand?"

"Yes," he said, thinking that a wound to his hand would worry her less than an arrow in his shoulder. If she was to live, she must not worry. She must sleep if she could. "I pulled it out and it will heal," he added.

Zena looked more closely at the wound and rubbed it gently with snow to clean it. She suspected it was very painful, and pain too made people weak. Some part of her was not entirely satisfied with this explanation, but she did not question Lief further. What he needed now was to rest, to sleep if he could.

"We will rest now and wait out the storm," she told him, replacing his cap and covering him with furs. "Soon, the cave will seem warmer, even if we do not have fire." They huddled together, and after a time, Lief realized she was right. The small space did seem to get warmer. He saw that the snow seemed to be slowing down as well, now that the light was fading. The pain was receding, too. Shock had made him numb, and now he hardly felt the fire in his shoulder. He was grateful.

Zena pulled out some cooked deer meat she had saved and they both ate a little, or at least Lief tried. "It will keep up our strength," Zena told him. "Then, as soon as the light comes again, we can go home." She smiled at him and rested her head on his shoulder. He was relieved that she had chosen his good shoulder, and he put an arm around her.

Snuggling against him, Zena allowed her eyes to close for a few moments. She felt Lief's arm tighten protectively; she forced her eyes open again and stroked his wounded hand gently. As soon as she stopped, her eyes began to close again. She yanked them open, determined not to fall asleep lest he become worse without her knowledge. Surely, though, it would be all right just to rest in this way.

Hours seemed to pass, and she thought Lief slept a little. Zena was glad, and vowed again to watch over him. For a time she succeeded; then, despite her efforts, sleep overcame her, the deep impenetrable sleep of youth and exhaustion. Later, she became aware that she was lying down and that Lief was lying beside her. She pulled him closer and pressed hard against his body so she could give him her warmth, and plummeted once more into sleep.

Lief smiled, feeling the warmth radiating from her. Only warmth would keep her alive on this night. The thought lodged in his mind as he lay there with Zena cradled in his arms. More hours passed, and the thought was still there: only warmth would keep Zena alive. It went around and around inside him, seeming to meld with the dizziness, and making sleep impossible.

He lay there thinking about the man who had attacked him, wondering who he was, and suddenly his mind became as clear as a mountain lake, and he understood. The man who had wrestled him to the ground and fought like a devil to kill him was the man with the scarred face he had seen all those years ago, the man who had spied on them and shot at them. He was the reclusive man who traveled with Korg and the Leader. They had been dressed as women that day, and the Leader was comatose with mead.

Another revelation followed. The man with the scarred face was the real threat, not Korg and the Leader as they had always thought. He was dangerous still. He would kill Zena, kill all of them if he could. Lief did not know why, only that it was so. The knowledge came to him abruptly, without warning, in the same irrefutable way he had known long ago that Zena would one day be important in his life. He knew too, that the man was still alive. The fall had not killed him. He could feel rage emanating from the huge man, as strong and vengeful and implacable as before.

Why had he never realized these things before? And what had been in the sack the scarred man carried across his back?

Panic struck Lief. He must warn the others, warn Zena, quickly, while he still could. Lips stiff with fear and cold, he spoke urgent words into her ear, about the man with the scarred face and what was in the sack he carried, about the danger that was still all around them, but the dizziness had come back forcefully and he was not sure he said them aloud. Perhaps they were just in his mind. He forced the words out again, desperate now, but the howling wind blew them away and he did not know if she had heard. He spoke them again and then again, or he thought he did.

Another shock came, suddenly, irrevocably. He would not live through the night. He was too weak, and he could feel the weakness growing, spreading through his body and mind, sucking the life from him. He would not live, but Zena must. While he still had the will, he must do what he could to keep her alive. That was all that mattered now: Zena must live.

Zena must live. Over and over the thought resounded through Lief's mind as he summoned the last of his strength to do what had to be done. Moving carefully so he would not wake her, he stripped himself to the waist and covered her sleeping form with his clothing. The movements were strained and difficult with his maimed hand and shoulder, but Lief hardly noticed. He just kept tugging until the job was finished. His cap went over her head, his fur cape and the extra furs above him were tucked around Zena instead. When he was certain she was wrapped as warmly as possible, he lay above her to protect her from the snow and to give her the last of his body's heat. He looked down at her face, but the night was utterly dark, and all he could see was a pale oval. Closing his eyes, he remembered it instead. He saw her lips curve into a smile, saw doubt encompass her features, and then strength, the strength she had not known she possessed. Now she was intense, serious, as she spoke for the Mother, now she was looking up at him, her eyes filled with love.

Above him, the snow changed to freezing rain that pummeled his naked back and head, and the winds shifted direction again to whistle across their cave, but Lief did not notice. There was nothing for him now but Zena's face, the beloved face he would take with him to the stars. He was almost there now, beginning to fly as he and Zena had flown so many times together. For a moment anguish filled him because this time she could not come, but the sorrow quickly passed. It did not matter that he should go alone. What mattered was that Zena would live and would go on living and that no harm would ever come to her. He knew that was so because he would always be with her, watching from the stars. However difficult the challenges she faced, however far she journeyed, he would be with her, helping her, loving her, making sure she was safe. Always and forever, he would be there.