It took them only a little time to dig their way out of the shelter and they emerged to be greeted by a soft misty snowscape. Everywhere was silent and still and large parts of the stern mountain scenery had been transformed by a swaddling whiteness. The sky to the east was a dull red, but to the north and west dark heavy clouds hung expectantly, and the peak of the mountain they stood on was still lost in the mist.
‘It’s beautiful,’ said Tirke, his breath steaming.
‘It is,’ Dacu agreed. Without speaking, Gavor flapped off into the cold silence, black and clear against the misty haziness.
Hawklan took Tirke’s arm. ‘Come and help me feed the horses,’ he said. ‘Then we can eat.’
The horses had fared better than the shelter, Dacu having taken greater pains to place them well in the lee of
