text: Dawn was not even tinging the eastern horizon and Aedwen's breath was ragged and wheezing. She was utterly exhausted, but she vowed not to admit weakness to Dunston. The grey-bearded man seemed not to feel fatigue as they trudged on into the night. Twice, soon after they had left Briuuetone, he had grabbed her shoulder and pulled her down, indicating for her to be silent. The first time he had done this, they had hunkered down beside the bole of a beech tree, hidden in the moon shadow beneath its boughs. They had remained there for a long time, but Aedwen was unsure of who it was that Dunston believed would hear them. The night was silent save for the breeze-whisper in the trees and the burble of the river, which ran broader and more slowly now they had moved south from Briuuetone. After a time, the light from the moon dimmed and, looking up through the branches, she had seen the darkness swallow up half of the great orb in the sky. She had trembled and when Dunston had followed her gaze, he had frowned.
  
  "What is it?" she'd whispered, but Dunston had shaken his head and held a finger to his lips.
  
  Moments later, the night had brightened once more and the moon was whole again.
  
  They had waited so long like that, hushed and cramped beneath the beech that her limbs had become stiff and Aedwen had begun to fall into a doze. But then Dunston had pulled her roughly to her feet and was once again setting such a fast pace that she was barely able to keep up. Her legs were numb from the lack of movement and tingled unpleasantly as the blood flowed back into her abused muscles.
  
  Dunston had appeared oblivious or uncaring of her discomfort.
  
  The second time he had caught hold of her, guiding her into the lee of a stand of alder. She had shaken off his touch.
  
  "What now?" she'd hissed, not wishing to again crouch in the cold and damp while her legs seized up. "And what happened to the moon?"
  
  He had pulled her down roughly with an unyielding strength.
  
  She opened her mouth to complain at his treatment, but before she could utter a sound, he clamped a large harsh hand over her mouth. She squirmed, but he held her tightly. She had been contemplating trying to bite his hand when she heard them. They must have been only ten paces from Dunston and Aedwen's hiding place.
  
  Several men walked quietly past. From time to time one of them would whisper something, but they were travelling quietly, stealthily.
  
  After a while, Dunston had released her, and they had both sat in silence for a very long time. Eventually, Dunston had been sure that their pursuers had moved on and he stood.
  
  "Sorry," she whispered.
  
  "Don't be sorry," he had replied, his voice the hiss of a blade being drawn from a scabbard. "Be obedient. Do what I say without hesitation and we both might live."
  
  She had swallowed back a reply and merely nodded, unsure whether he could see her movement in the dark.
  
  For the rest of the night they had walked in silence and had no further encounters.
  
  Aedwen could not tell how Dunston was navigating. They were not walking on any roads or paths she could discern in the dark, and yet he appeared to be leading them with unerring conviction. Though to where, she had no idea.
  
  She stumbled, her toe stubbing a root that ran across the track they followed. Dunston reached out with uncanny speed, grabbing the back of her dress and righting her. She could scarcely believe what she had witnessed in Briuuetone. Perhaps Gytha's husband had not been spinning tall tales about Dunston's prowess in battle. He had dispatched the younger, armed Raegnold in a heartbeat and it had all happened so quickly, she was hardly certain of what had occurred. One moment the tall man had been threatening them, the next he was slumped on the earth unconscious or dead. Dunston seemed to care not which.
  
  "We will rest soon," he whispered in the darkness. She noticed with a start that she could make out his features. Dawn was not far off and the wolf-light that came before the sun was beginning to colour the land. Dunston had led them out of the dense woods and across some open grassland. It was colder here, the sky clear of clouds.
  
  Aedwen's senses swam. Her legs ached as she climbed up an incline. She was barely awake and had been walking in a daze. Now, she was suddenly afraid.
  
  "Will they find us?" she asked.
  
  "Not where I am taking us," he replied. His voice was soft now, gentle. She nodded in the pre-dawn dark and stumbled along behind him. She believed him.
  
  He led them to a cave. The entrance was scarcely wide enough for them to squeeze inside, and she felt a tremor of fear at being trapped in the earth. But she was too tired now to worry and so she followed Dunston in to the black gloom. She sensed him moving, as he sat down, propping his back against the wall.
  
  "You will be safe here, Aedwen," he said, his voice echoing quietly in the darkness. "Lie down and rest. Nothing will befall you here."
  
  His voice was soothing, and the solidity of his presence comforting. She wrapped her cloak about her and sat down on the hard floor of the cave.
  
  "You can rest your head on me," Dunston whispered. Without thinking, Aedwen did just that. She lowered herself down and placed her head on the old warrior's outstretched legs.
  
  He patted her arm gently. She shivered.
  
  Aedwen's mind was filled with visions of fire and blood and a moon being consumed by darkness. The face of her mother came to her as sleep embraced her, and in her dreams she was sure she could feel the warmth of Odin the hound stretched out beside her.