Samo nodded. It was much as he surmised, but he was glad that Nate came to the same conclusion. We must hope, he said with a small smile. He left the traps unfinished for the moment; when they returned, he could stick the berries to the small trigger stick with sap, or else the frozen juice.

He let his gaze drop to his paws as they walked. He must tell Nate about the stigmata, and what must be done if his old masters came seeking their runaway slave. And yet, he could not bring himself to speak of such things. Even in this darkened forest so far from Rome, some part of him feared to even speak the name. Yet there was something about Nate that kept him from balking completely.

You were a trapper before? Samo asked instead, looking back up at him with gentle curiosity.