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lained how one calculated this spiral…the troll's woodcraft lecture had concerned the movement of sun； the coloration of bark and leaves； the direction certain tree roots sprouted as they lay in running water； but at the time Binabik had been explaining these things； Simon had been watching a three…legged lizard slowly limping along the Aldheorte Forest floor。 It was a shame Binabik had not tried to make his explanation a little more interesting； Simon thought； but it was too late to do anything about it now。
He tramped on through the thickening snowfall as the sun rose invisibly behind the smother of clouds。 The brief afternoon arrived； then almost immediately began preparing to leave。 The wind blew and the storm seized Aldheorte in its frosty fingers and squeezed。 The cold jabbed at Simon through his cloak； which began to feel as thin as a lady's summer veil； it had seemed adequate while he was still in the pany of friends； but when he thought about it； he could not remember the last time he had felt truly warm。
As the day of unrewarded snow…trudging dragged on； his stomach began to ache as well。 He had last eaten in Skodi's house…the memory of the meal and its aftermath dislodged one of the few remaining shivers that the cold wind had not yet discovered。 Who could say how much time had passed since then？
Holy Aedon； he prayed； give me food。 The thought became a sort of verse that echoed over and over in his head in time with the crunching of snow beneath his boots。
Unfortunately； this was a problem that would not go away by thinking of something else。 Neither had it gotten as bad as it could get。 Simon knew he could not get any more lost than he was at that moment； but he could bee a great deal more hungry。
In his time with Binabik and the soldiers he had gotten used to others doing the hunting and gathering； when he had helped； it was usually at someone else's direction。 Suddenly he was as alone as he had been during those first awful days in Aldheorte after he had fled the Hayholt。 He had been dreadfully hungry then； and had survived until the troll found him； but that had not been winter weather。 He had also been able to pilfer from isolated freeholdings。 Now he wandered in a frozen and unpeopled wilderness that made his earlier sojourn in the forest seem an afternoon outing。
The storm winds rose in pitch。 The very air seemed to grow suddenly colder； sending Simon into a fresh spasm of trembling。 As the forest began to darken ever so slightly； sending the first warning that even this weak daylight could not last forever； Simon found himself fighting back a rising surge of horror。 All day long he had tried to ignore the faint scrabbling of its claws at times he had felt as though he walked along the edge of an abyss； a pit which had no bottom； no limit。
In a situation like this； Simon realized； it would be very easy to go mad…not to spring suddenly into arm…waving lunacy； like a beggerman ranting on Tavern Row； but rather to slip over into quiet madness。 He would make some unrecognized misstep and topple slowly； helplessly into the abyss whose nearness seemed at that moment so unarguably clear。 He would fall and fall until he did not even remember that he was falling anymore。 His real life； his memories； the friends and the home he had once had； all would dwindle until they were nothing but ancient； dusty objects inside a head like a boarded…up cottage。
Was that what dying was like； he suddenly wondered？ Did a part of you stay in your body； as in Skodi's ghastly song？ Did you lie in the earth and feel your thoughts dwindling away bit by bit； like a sandbar broken down and earned off by a flowing stream？ And now that he thought of it； would that be so terrible after all…to lie in the damp and dark and just slowly cease to be？ Might it not be better than the frantic concerns of the living； the useless struggle against impossible odds； the panicky and pointless flight from death's ultimate vlctory？
To give in。 To just stop fighting。。。
It had a pacific sound to it； like a sad but pretty song。 It seemed a gentle promise； a kiss before sleeping。。。
Simon was falling forward。 Shocked into alertness； he threw out a hand and steadied himself against the trunk of a skeletal birch。 His heart was beating very swiftly。
He saw with astonishment that snow had gathered thickly on his shoulders and boots； as though he had stood m this place for a long time…but it had seemed like the merest instant！ He shook his head and slapped at his cheeks with gloved fingers until the stinging brought life surging back through his body。 He growled at himself。 To almost fall asleep standing up！ To freeze on your feet！ What kind of a mooncalf was he？
No！ He growled again and shook his head。 Binabik and Sludig had said he was almost a man： he would not prove them wrong so easily。 It was cold and he was hungry； that was all。 He would not cry and give up like a lowly apprentice scullion locked out of the kitchen。 Simon had seen and done many things。 He had survived worse than this。
But what should he do？
He couldn't solve the lack of food immediately； he knew； but that wasn't so bad。 One thing Binabik had said that Simon remembered very well was that a person could go a long time without food； but could not survive a single night in the cold without shelter。 For this reason； the troll always said； fire was very； very important。
But Simon had no fire； nor could he make one。
As he considered this grim fact； he kept walking。 Despite the fast… increasing darkness he hoped to find a better camping place before he stopped。 The snow was falling faster now； and at the moment he was slogging along the bottom of a long； shallow canyon。 He wanted to find higher ground； someplace where he would not have to dig his way out if he survived the night。 Thinking about this； Simon felt a painful smile form on his cracked lips。 With the dreadful luck he had been having； the high place he chose would probably be struck by lightning。
He laughed hoarsely and was momentarily heartened by the sound of his own mirth； but the wind snatched it away before he could savor it。
The spot he chose was a stand of hemlocks clustered atop a low hill like white…caped sentries。 He would have preferred the shelter of several large stones…or better still； a cave…but his luck was not so generous。 He ignored the gurglings of his empty stomach as he briefly surveyed the little copse； then set to work pressing snow into hard lumps。 These he piled between the trees on the windward side； pressing and smoothing them together until he had a serviceable wall that reached to a little above his knees。
As the last light started to bleed from the sky； Simon began pulling branches from the surrounding hemlocks。 He pilled them near the base of his snow…bulwark until he had made a bed of springy needles nearly as high as the wall。 Not yet content； he continued his way around the clearing； using his Qanuc knife to cut branches by the handful until a pile of equal size lay beside the first。 He stopped for a moment； breathing heavily； and felt the chill air suck the warmth away from his exposed face as abruptly as if he h