‘We’ll see this through,’ he said, ‘find Fritha . . .’
Alive or dead, Drem finished his da’s sentence.
‘And then we’ll be away, quick and quiet as we can,’ Olin added.
‘Thank you, Da,’ Drem said, relief washing through him. To give up on her now would feel wrong.
Olin took the lead, pushing on through the deepening snow. The hounds were silent now, and Drem could see no one to the left or right, only the snow, the constant flutter of it in his face. Olin’s eyes were on the foliage about them, branch and bush. He paused once, lifting leaves that had been snapped, scraped past; he marched on more quickly.
And then somewhere up ahead hounds were barking, a raucous baying, close, much closer than Drem would have thought, and he felt his heart lurch in his chest. He broke into a run, past his da, the sound of the hounds growing ever louder, deafening now, and changing, snarling, growling, snapping, a yelp and whine. Drem burst into a clearing, or, at least it was a clearing now, as a giant white bear had snapped branches, torn bushes up and uprooted trees in its violence against the hounds that had tracked it and brought it to bay.
There was blood on the snow, a hound crawling, whining, its back legs not working, another hound lying as still as stone, head twisted at a sickening angle. Others were circling the bear, snarling and snapping as the great beast growled and swiped at them with its huge scythe-like claws.
Where’s Fritha? Drem thought, looking about frantically for her, but he could see no sign of her. Hope drained from him.
It wouldn’t have left her alive in its den, or anywhere else. Dead and stored, more likely. He’d seen predators do it many times, hide their kill until they felt it was safe to retrieve it. He felt a rush of anger, rage like he’d never felt before.
I will kill you, bear, for what you’ve done.
Ulf burst into the clearing, a handful of men about him, all of them pausing for a frozen moment, staring at the white beast in astonished wonder. Then a man was charging it, a spear levelled at the bear’s chest, stabbing through fur and flesh, the bear bellowing its pain, a shrug of its shoulder and claws splintered the spear shaft, another swipe and the man was spinning through the air, an arc of blood trailing him. He crashed to the ground, rolled, didn’t move again.
As if breaking a spell, the first man’s ruin released the others from their frozen stupefaction, Ulf bellowing, the others rushing forwards, spreading about the bear, jabbing at it with their weapons. Drem charged with them, Olin following more cautiously, unsheathing their own blades. Drem heard the distinct sound of sizzling, saw snowflakes melting to steam where they touched his da’s black sword. Then they were part of the net closing on the white bear, Drem stabbing when it slashed or bit in another direction, jumping back when it cast its baleful attention in his direction.
That’s definitely the one from the elk pit, Drem thought as he saw its right paw, one long claw clearly missing.
Just need to carve the rest of you up, now.
Red lines appeared on the beast, blood leaking into its fur, and more men died, those too slow or too foolhardy. In a few hundred heartbeats five men lay bleeding into the forest litter, only two dogs still standing, but a handful of new men had trickled into the clearing, one of them, Drem noted, was Wispy Beard.
The bear lunged forwards, caught a warrior’s thigh with its claws as he tried to jump away, sent him crashing to the ground, and the bear’s head darted forwards on its long, powerful neck, its jaws crunching about the man’s torso, lifting him into the air and shaking him like a terrier with a rat. Blood sprayed in fountains, the man’s screams rising in pitch, abruptly silent as bones snapped. Olin danced into the rear of the bear and slashed two-handed at the beast, carving a red gash down the bear’s flank and leg, the stench of meat burning, flesh and fat hissing. It bellowed in pain, dropping the dead man, and surged forwards, straight at Drem, fleeing this new agony. It slammed into him and the bulk of men about Drem, sending them spinning, flying through the air like so many twigs. Drem crashed to the ground, air forced from his lungs. He tried to move, hand grasping for the hilt of his blade, and then a clawed paw thumped into the ground by his head and the bear’s jaws filled his vision. It stood over him, looking down at him, saliva dripping from one long tooth to land on Drem’s forehead.
It sniffed him, opened its jaws and let out a great roar, then exploded away from him and went crashing into the undergrowth, disappearing into the twilight.
Only Olin was still standing, a handful of others groaning as they tried to rise. Olin ran to Drem and helped him back to his feet, put his sword back in his hand.
‘I’m all right,’ Drem said to his da’s worried look.
I should be dead. It didn’t kill me.
Drem shared a look with his da and they followed the bear, moving quickly, not quite a run, the sounds of it crashing ahead making it easy for them to track the beast.
The noise of the bear slowly faded, despite Drem and Olin picking up their pace, a sense of despair settling in Drem’s chest. Eventually Olin stopped, twilight thick about him.
‘We’ll not catch it in a sprint,’ his da said. ‘And anyway, it doesn’t have Fritha, you saw. It might have dropped or discarded her somewhere in the forest. Best thing to do is retrace its steps. And then . . .’
We’ll find Fritha’s dead body in the snow and forest litter, Drem thought morosely.
‘She may have escaped the bear of her own accord,’ Olin said. ‘She may still live.’ Drem could tell that his da didn’t believe that, though. And neither did he.
Drem nodded, admitting defeat, the forest silent about them now, draped with shadow, snow still falling, though he could feel it more than see it, twilight masking the world in grey. A voice in the distance, a horn call, faint and far.
‘Ulf and Hildith, regrouping. Might be better to camp out here as a group than try and walk home,’ Olin said.
‘I think you’re right and it’s time to leave, Da,’ Drem said, ‘in the dark, where we won’t be missed. Fritha must be dead, though I dearly wish she were not.’
Olin looked at him.
‘Only if you’re sure, son. She means much to you; we’ll stay and search until you’re ready.’
Drem nodded, then froze, cocking his head to one side.
A sound, to their right, deep in the undergrowth. His da heard it, too, both of them staring, alert. And slowly something formed in the shadows, the darkness deepening, a shifting of muscle and bulk, a low rumbling growl.
‘RUN!’ Olin yelled, shoving Drem back the way they had come as the undergrowth exploded outwards, snapping and shattering in a burst of snow and leaves, a deafening roar blasting them, filling Drem’s head as he stumbled to the ground. He glimpsed his da setting his feet, lifting his blade, heard the crash and growl of the bear as it surged from the shadows.