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er； and Covenant's wounded face held a look of intentness or frustration； as if only the hurt on his mouth kept him from plaining impatiently。 In that look； Triock caught a glimpse of how fragile Covenant's avowed hatred was。 It did not appear to be a sustaining Passion。 Triock shivered。 A foreboding distrust told him that Thomas Covenant's resolve or passion would not suffice。
But he clenched the thought to himself as he returned Foamfollower's final salute。 There was nothing he could say。 And a moment later； the Giant arid his two panions had disappeared northward between the houses。
Their footmarks filled with snow and faded from sight until Mithil Stonedown seemed to retain no record of their passing。
Gruffly； Triock said to Yeurquin and Quirrel； 〃We also must depart We must leave this valley while the snow holds。〃
His two friends nodded without question。 Their faces were empty of expression； they looked like people from whom bat had drained all other considerations…carried their short javelins as if the killing of enemies were their sole interest。 From them； Triock drew a kind of serenity。 He was no High Wood wielder to them； no bearer of burdens which would have bent the back of a Lord。 He was only a man； fighting as best he could for the Land； without pretensions to wisdom or prophecy。 This was a proper role for a Cattleherd in times of war； and he weled it。
Girded by the readiness of his panions； he went to the other elders and spent a short time discussing with them Mithil Stonedown's precautions against future attacks。 Then he left his home to them and went out into the snow again as if it were the duty of his life。
Flanked by Quirrel and Yeurquin； he left the village by the northward road； and crossed without stealth the stone bridge to the western side of the valley。 He wanted to make good time while the snow cover lasted； so he stayed on the easiest route until he neared the end of the horn of mountains which formed the Mithil valley's western wall。 At that point； he moved off the road and started up into the foothills that clung around the tip of the horn。
He intended to skirt the peaks west and south almost as far as Doom's Retreat； then swing northwest toward the isolated wedge of mountains which defended the South Plains from Garroting Deep。 He could not take the straight march westward。 In the open Plains； he would certainly encounter marauders； and when he did； he would have to flee wherever they chased him。 So he chose the rugged terrain of the foothills。 The higher ground would give him both a vantage from which to watch for enemies and a cover in which to hide from them。
Yet； as he plodded upward through the snow； he feared the choice he had made。 In the foothills； he would need twenty days to reach those mountains beyond Doom's Retreat； twenty days would be lost before he could begin to search for the Unfettered One。 In that time； Covenant and his panions might travel all the way to Landsdrop or beyond。 Then any message which the High Lord might receive would be too late； Covenant would be beyond any hand but the Gray Slayer's。
With that dread in his heart； he began the arduous work of rounding the promontory。
He and his rades had reached the first lee beyond the horn when the snowfall ended； late that afternoon。 There he ordered a halt。 Instead of running the risk of being seen…brown against the gray slush of the snow he made camp and let the long weariness which had been his constant panion since he first began fighting lull him to sleep。
Sometime after nightfall； Yeurquin awakened him。 They moved on again； chewing strips of dried meat to keep some warmth in their bones； and washing the salt from their throats with mouthfuls of the unsavory snow。 In the cloud…locked darkness； they made slow progress。 And every league took them farther from the hills they knew most intimately。 After a tortuous and unsuccessful effort to scale one bluff slope； Triock cursed the dreary clasp of the sky and turned to descend toward easier ground nearer the Plains。
For most of the night； they traveled the lower hillsides； but when they felt dawn crouching near； they climbed again to regain their vantage。 They pushed upward until they gained a high ridge from which they could see a long stretch of the way they had e。 There they stopped。 During the gray seepage of day into the air； they opened their smokeless graveling pots and cooked one hot meal。 When they were done； they waited until the wind had obliterated all their tracks。 Then they set watches； slept。
They followed this pattern for two more days…down out of the foothills at dusk； long； dark night…trek； back toward higher ground at dawn for one hot meal and sleep…and during these three days； they saw no sign of any life； human or animal； friend or foe； anywhere； they were alone in the cold gray world and the forlorn wind。 Trudging as if they were half crippled by the snow； they pressed themselves through the chapped solitude toward Doom's Retreat。 Aside from the unpredictably crisp or muffled noises of their own movement； they heard nothing but the over…stressed cracklings of the ice and the scrapings of the wind； fractured in their ears by the rumpled hills。
But in the dawn of the fourth day； while they watched the wind slowly filling the footmarks of their train； they saw a dull； ugly； yellow movement cross one rib of the hills below them and e hunting upward in their direction。 Triock counted ten in the pack。
〃Kresh！〃 Yeurquin spat under his breath。
Quirrel nodded。 〃And hunting us。 It must be that they passed downwind of us during the night。〃
Triock shivered。 The fearsome yellow wolves were not familiar to the people of the South Plains； until the last few years； the kresh had lived primarily in the regions north of Ra； foraging into the North Plains when they could not get Ranyhyn…flesh。 And many thousands of them had been slain in the great battle of Doom's Retreat。 Yet they soon replenished their numbers； and now scavenged in every part of the Land where the hand of the Lords no longer held sway。 Triock had never had to fight kresh； but he had seen what they could do。 A year ago； one huge pack had annihilated the whole population of Gleam Stonedown； in the crystal hills near the joining of the Black and Mithil rivers； and when Triock had walked through the deserted village； he had found nothing but rent clothes and splinters of bone。
〃Melenkurion！〃 he breathed as he gauged the speed of the yellow wolves。 〃We must climb swiftly。〃
As his panions slung their packs； he searched the terrain ahead for an escape or refuge。 But despite their roughness； the hills and slopes showed nothing which the wolves might find impassable； and Triock knew of no defensible caves or valleys this far from Mithil Stonedown。
He turned upward。 With Quirrel and Yeurquin behind him； he started along a ridge of foothills toward the mountains。
In the lee of the ridge； the snow was not thick。 They made good speed as they climbed and scrambled toward the nearest mountain flank。 But it rose sheerly out of the hillslope ahead； preventing escape in that direction。 When the western valley beside the ridge rose up toward the mountain； Triock swung to the right and ran downward； traversed the valley； lunged through the piled snow toward the higher ground on the far side。
Before he and his panions reached the top； the leading kresh crested the ridge behind them and gave out a ferocious howl。 The sound hit Triock between his shoulder blades like the flick of a flail。 He stopped； whirled to see the wolves rushing like yellow death along the ridge hardly five hundred yards from him。
The sight made the skin of his scalp crawl； and his cold…stiff cheeks twitched as if he were trying to bare his teeth in fear。 Without a word； he turned and attacked the climb again； threw himself through the snow until his pulse pounded and he seemed to be surrounded by his own gasping。
When he gained the ridge top； he paused long enough to steady his gaze； then scanned the terrain ahead。 Beyond this rib of the foothills； all the ground in a wide half…circle reaching to the very edge of the mountains fell steeply away into a deep valley。 The valley was roughly conical in shape； open to the plains only through a sheer ravine on its north side。 It offered no hope to Triock's searching eyes。 But clinging to the mountain edge beyond a narrow ledge along the lip of the valley was a broken pile of boulders； the remains of an old rockfall。 Triock's attention leaped to see if the boulders could be reached along the ledge。
〃Go！〃 Quirrel muttered urgently。 〃I will hold them here。〃
〃Two javelins and one sword；〃 Triock panted in response。 〃Then they will outweigh us seven to two。 I prefer you alive。'' Pointing； he said； 〃We must cross that ledge to the rocks。 There we can strike at the kresh from above。 e。〃
He started forward again； driving his tired legs as fast as he could； and Quirrel and Yeurquin followed on his heels。 When they reached the rough ground where the ridge blended into the cliff； they clambered through it toward the ledge。
At the ledge； Triock hesitated。 The lip of th