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white reindeer leaping over him. White wolverines ambled
peacefully among white lemmings and willow grouse. A snowy
musk ox grazed near a raven bright as frost.
"Am I dead?" he mumbled.
"I don't think so," said a voice that seemed to come from a great
distance. Torak sighed.
Later, it occurred to him that the voice had been right,
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as he was still in his body. His outer clothes were gone, but he
wore his jerkin and under-leggings. The cloud tickled his bare
feet.
"Where am I?" he murmured.
"Here," the voice said quietly.
Torak tried to make sense of that. "Are you the Hidden People?"
A pause. "I hide. But I'm not one of them."
The mist began to clear. Torak smelled woodsmoke. He heard
water dripping; the spitting of a fire. He felt the tightness in his
chest that he only got when he was in a cave.
His eyes snapped open.
He was lying on a mat of hare-skins beneath a covering of musk-
ox wool. The cave was so narrow he could have spanned it with
his arms, but he guessed it must be deep. Beyond his feet,
daylight rimmed a patchwork of hides that shut off the cave
mouth. Nearer, a fire cast a ruddy glimmer. Torak saw piles of
heather and dried musk-ox dung; and strings of herbs,
mushrooms, and trout, hanging to smoke.
White reindeer and musk ox had been painted on the walls in
gypsum. Lemmings, wolverines, and grouse, cramming every
ledge, had been carved in slate and dusted with chalk. The white
raven was real. It perched on a rock, peering at Torak. Feathers,
legs, claws, even its beak were white. But its eyes were dark, and
raven-keen.
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Shakily, Torak sat up. He felt giddy and bruised, but he could
move all his limbs, so he guessed that the snow and his bulky
clothes had broken his fall. His head throbbed. The eagle owl had
reopened his scalp wound, which someone had bandaged.
The eagle owl.
Everything returned in a rush.
"Who's there?" he said. "Where's my knife! Where's Wolf?"
No answer.
Torak staggered toward the cave mouth. "Stop!" cried the voice.
Torak heard running feet and clattering claws. He pushed past the
hides into an icy blast. Hands yanked him back from a dizzying
drop. He sat down hard, and Wolf pounced on him, snuffle-licking
his face and whimpering with joy. You 're awake! I hate these long
sleeps! I'm here!
Torak reached for Wolf's scruff. He stared up at the boy who had
saved his life.
He appeared to be about Torak's own age. Grimy and thin, he
was blinking and shielding his eyes from the light. He wore a
shaggy robe of musk-ox wool, and had no visible clan-tattoos. But
it wasn't any of these which made him extraordinary.
He looked as if someone had stolen all his color. His long, tangled
hair was white as cobwebs. His brows and
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lashes had the hue of dead grass, his face the pallor of fresh-cut
chalk. His pale-gray eyes made Torak think of a sky full of snow.
"Who are you?" said the boy with an odd blend of fear and
longing.
"What are you?" cried Torak, struggling to his feet. "You took my
clothes and my knife. Give them back!"
The boy stretched his lips in a gap-toothed smile that looked as if
he hadn't used it in a while. "Your knife is safe." He pointed to a
ledge. "You're dizzy. I made you sleep. You talked a lot."
"You're one of her creatures!" snarled Torak.
"Whose?"
"Eostra!"
"The one who has taken the Mountain?"
"Don't pretend you don't know!"
"Oh, I know. I've seen her." Torak saw the shadows under his
eyes. This boy had endured days and nights of fear.
Or else he was a good liar.
"You must be helping her!" Torak insisted. "Why else would you
be here?"
"I was here before. I--" He broke off, turning his head to listen.
"I'm coming soon," he called.
"Who's there?" said Torak suspiciously.
"You should rest," urged the boy. "You're dizzy."
As he said it, the giddiness got worse. "Are you a
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Mage?" Torak said. "Making me feel whatever you want?"
"A Mage? I don't think so."
Wolf was licking Torak's hand. Hazily, Torak saw that his pack-
brother's wounds had been cleaned and smeared with salve, and
that he seemed quite at ease with the stranger.
"At first he wouldn't let me near you," said the boy, holding out his
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