Nate patrolled. It seemed the thing to do. In the distance he could still sometimes catch glimpses of the blue flame. He thought of Eduda's stories — and wondered if it meant defeat for wolves — or for the spirits, gods, whatever they ought to be called, who now brought cold and dark to the world. In languid thoughts, it seemed a bastion of warmth against an inevitable end. Why should the powers of this world be any more benevolent than those of the last?

Ko-Ga flew farther in the days following the ice-crossing. Looking for Nat. It was a lonely purgatory for Nate, but he persevered in routine, and told himself that though there was no redemption for him, there might still be some for others, which he could play a part in.

It was in this fading light he found the silhouette of a stranger, and paused with pricked ears. Evening. He called out from his perch on a fallen spruce, tail raised in a wag.