For the briefest of moments, Vredech was a child again, wilfully disobedient, running recklessly down a rocky hillside. He had only done it once and it had ended in bruised ribs, a twisted ankle and a response from his father that was at once thunderously furious and frantic with relief.
As the memory flitted by he felt a hint of, ‘What will this end in?’ threatening, but it was swept aside by the desperate needs of the moment. He was vaguely aware of Pinnatte just ahead of him, but he could neither help him nor seek help from him. Everything now was filled with the sound of his gasping breath and the pounding of his heart, and only instinct was guiding his feet.
Then that same instinct was intruding into his mind.
He must slow down.
The slope was becoming steeper and steeper. Soon the
