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he banks。 But part of the herd followed him。 He changed shape again； desperately； began flying south in the night。 But shapes rose； swirling out of the darkness； beat him northward across the Thul； northward toward White Lady Lake； northward； he began to realize； toward Erlenstar Mountain。
The realization filled him with both fury and terror。 On the shores of White Lady Lake； he turned to fight。 He waited for them in his own shape； the stars in his sword…hilt flaring a blood…red signal to them across the backlands。 But nothing answered his challenge。 The hot afternoon was motionless； the waters of the huge lake lay still as beaten silver。 Groping； he could not even touch their minds。 Finally； as the waning sun drew shadows after it across the lake； he began to breathe a tentative freedom。 He sheathed his sword； shrugged himself into wolf…shape。 And then he saw them； motionless as air； ranged across his path； shaping themselves out of the blur of light and darkness。
He sparked a flame from the dying sun in his sword hilt； let it burn down the blade。 Then he frayed himself into shadow； filled his mind with darkness。 He attacked to kill； yet in his exhaustion and hopelessness； he knew he was half…goading them to kill him。 He killed two shape…changers before he realized that in some terrible mockery； they had permitted it。 They would not fight； they would not let him go south。 He changed back into wolf…shape； ran northward along the lake shore into the trees。 A great herd of wolves massed behind him。 He turned again； flung himself at them。 They grappled with him； snarling； snapping until he realized； as he rolled over and over on the bracken with a great wolf whose teeth were locked on his forearm； that it was real。 He shook it away from him with a shudder of energy； burned a circle of light around himself。 They milled around him restlessly in the dusk； not sure what he was； smelling blood from his torn shoulder。 Looking at them； he wanted to laugh suddenly at his mistake。 But something far more bitter than laughter spilled into his throat。 For a while he could not think。 He could only watch a starless night flowing across the wastes and smell the musk of a hundred wolves as they circled him。 Then； with a vague idea of attacking the shape…changers； he squatted； holding wolves' eyes； drawing their minds under his control。 But something broke his binding。 The wolves faded away into the night； leaving him alone。 He could not fly； his arm was stiffening； burning。 The smell of loneliness from the cold； darkening water overwhelmed him。 He let the fire around him go out。 Trapped between the shape…changers and the black horror of Erlenstar Mountain； he could not move。 He stood shivering in the dark wind； while the night built around him； memory by memory。
The light wing…brush of another mind touched his mind； and then his heart。 He found he could move again； as though a spell had been broken。 The voice of the wind changed； it filled the black night from every direction with the whisper of Raederle's name。 His awareness of her lasted only a moment。 But he felt； reaching down to touch the bracken into flame； that she might be anywhere and everywhere around him； the great tree rising beside him； the fire sparking up from dead leaves to warm his face。 He ripped the sleeves off his tunic； washed his arm and bound it。 He lay beside the fire； gazing into the heart of it； trying to prehend the shape…changers and their intentions。 He realized suddenly that tears were burning down his face； because Raederle was alive； because she was with him。 He reached out； buried the fire under a handful of earth。 He hid himself within an illusion of darkness and began to move again； northward； following the vast shore of White Lady Lake。
He did not meet the shape…changers again until he reached the raging white waters of the Cwill River； as it broke away from the northernmost tip of the lake。 From there； he could see the back of Isig Pass； the distant rolling foothills and bare peaks of Isig Mountain and Erlenstar Mountain。 He made another desperate bid for freedom then。 He dropped into the wild current of the Cwill； let it whirl him； now as a fish； now a dead branch； through deep； churning waters； down rapids and thundering falls until he lost all sense of time； direction； light。 The current jarred him over endless rapids before it loosed him finally in a slow； green pool。 He spun awhile； a piece of water…soaked wood； aware of nothing but a fibrous darkness。 The gentle current edged him toward the shore into a snarl of dead leaves and branches。 He pulled himself onto the snag finally； a wet； bedraggled muskrat； and picked his way across the branches onto the shore。
He changed shape again in the shadows。 He had not gone as far east as he had thought。 Erlenstar Mountain； flanked with evening shadows； stood enormous and still in the distance。 But he was closer to Isig； he knew； if he could reach it safely； he could hide himself interminably in its maze of underground passages。 He waited until nightfall to move again。 Then； in the shape of a bear； he lumbered off into the dark toward the pattern of stars above Isig Mountain。
He followed the stars until they faded at dawn； and then； without realizing it； he began to alter his path。 Trees thickened around him； hiding his view of the mountain； thick patches of scrub and bramble forced him to veer again and again。 The land sloped downward sharply； he followed a dry stream bed through a ravine； thinking he was going north； until the stream bed rose up to level ground and he found himself facing Erlenstar Mountain。 He angled eastward again。 The trees clustered around him； murmuring in the wind； the underbrush thickened； crossing his path； imperceptibly changing his direction until； shambling across a shallow river； he saw Erlenstar Mountain again in a break between the trees ahead of him。
He stopped in the middle of the river。 The sun hung suspended far to the west； crackling in the sky like a torch。 He felt hot； dusty； and hungry within the shaggy bear pelt。 He heard bees droning and scented the air for honey。 A fish flickered past him in the shallow water； he slapped at it and missed。 Then something rumbling beneath the bear…brain sharpened into language。 He reared in the water； his head weaving from side to side； his muzzle wrinkled； as if he could smell the shapes that had been forming around him； pushing him away from Isig。
He felt something build in him and loosed it： a deep； grumbling roar that shattered the silence and bellowed back at him from hills and stone peaks。 Then； in hawk…shape； he burned a golden path upward high into the sky until the backlands stretched endlessly beneath him； and he shot towards Isig Mountain。
The shape…changers melted out of the trees； flew after him。 For a while he raced ahead of them in a bunding surge of speed toward the distant green mountain。 But as the sun set； they began to catch up with him。 They were of a nameless shape。 Their wings gathered gold and red from the sunset； their eyes and talons were of flame。 Their sharp beaks were bone…white。 They surrounded him； dove at him； snapp