Kiernan never would have imagined how pleasant being snow-stuck in a mountain cave with a savage brute could be. Possibly because Grif wasn’t really the savage brute he’d initially seemed.

He wasn’t a civilized man. Oh, no. A civilized man would never have struck Kiernan the way Grif had, would never have stolen Kiernan’s equipment . . . would never have fucked the way Grif did, with every fiber of his being directed into the act, with no self-consciousness or self-awareness, as far as Kiernan could tell. Grif fucked like it was the most natural thing in the world, like it was what he’d been born to do.

So when the two of them woke up the morning after the deer had been killed and found the outside world was solid white, snow so heavy in the air they couldn’t tell how much was falling and how much just blowing, Kiernan wasn’t sorry to piss over the edge of the cliff and then turn around and crawl back inside. He complained about how his dick had almost frozen off, Grif said he knew a good way to warm it up again, and everything proceeded most satisfactorily from there.

They ate sparingly, and didn’t waste a single nibble. Even the blood, which Kiernan had been prepared to refuse, wasn’t bad when they only ate a little at a time, spooned onto the meat like a salty, metallic gravy.

Grif showed Kiernan how to make tools out of the antlers, and cursed apologetically at his own clumsiness. “I didn’t have much experience with deer, growing up,” he said. “I’m not the best teacher.”

“You’re the best teacher for miles around,” Kiernan promised him, and Grif raised a wry eyebrow but didn’t stop teaching. He showed Kiernan how to use the sinews to make a strong sort of twine, and how the intestines could become bow strings. The bladder was thoroughly cleaned with snow and then boiling water so it could hold liquids for them, the stomach got a similar treatment, while the brain was set aside with the explanation that it would be used later to tan the hide. It was no more disgusting than some of Kiernan’s tasks with the healer had been, and it was nice to work with Grif at jobs that required qualities other than strength and endurance.

To his credit, Grif seemed pleased when Kiernan’s nimble fingers performed tasks Grif’s couldn’t manage. No resentment or jealousy, just a joking, “That’s your job, then,” before the conversation led elsewhere.

And of course, when they weren’t working, they played. Grif gave Kiernan pleasure as if it were a pleasure to do so. They always ended with orgasms, but Grif would stretch things out for hours, sometimes, with massage and conversation and even eating.

When the storm finally abated after a few days, Kiernan didn’t want to go outside. They’d run out of firewood and were cooking tiny chunks of venison over tallow candles made from animal fat, and still, Kiernan didn’t want to leave.

“You stay here, then,” Grif said, and snugged the blanket around Kiernan’s shoulders. “I’ll bring firewood, first, and then I’ll go check the snares. I’ll bring back fresh needles for the tea too.”

“No,” Kiernan groaned. “I want you to stay. Can’t the servants bring the firewood and check the snares?”

“You’re right.” Grif sat down on the rock they used as a bench, but he was only putting his boots on, not actually staying. He spoke in a prim, vaguely feminine voice as he added, “The servants have become shockingly lazy. I will have a word with them and make sure they understand their duties.”

“I hadn’t realized you’d met my aunt, but you must have, in order to do such a good imitation of her.”

“I can’t think of who I have met who could have given me clues as to how she might speak.”

“You don’t—you don’t mean me, I hope! I’m not—not like that!”

“No?” Grif grinned, then said, in a voice slightly higher than his natural tone, “I have a very important mission. So important. And secret! I have an important secret mission!”

“I do have an important mission.”

“And secret,” Grif agreed cheerfully. “So you can stay here with your secrets, and I’ll go—”

“No. I’m coming with you.”

“It’s cold out there.”

“I know about cold. I rescued you from the cold, if you’ll recall. And I don’t want to have to do it again, so I’m going to go with you to make sure you’re okay.”

“Aye, that might be best.”

So Kiernan bundled himself up and followed Grif out of the cave, and they searched through the forest for wood that was dead and dry but hadn’t yet rotted. Grif hacked off green branches as they went and left them on the ground. They’d be shelter for game, Grif explained. And they’d start drying, so if firewood was needed later in the season, they wouldn’t be totally green.

“But it’s still going to be a problem, isn’t it?” Kiernan hadn’t thought of it before, but now it seemed so obvious. “We’re going to have to go farther and farther away to find firewood. We’ve already taken all the really easy stuff, and it’ll just get more and more difficult from now on.”

Grif didn’t answer right away, but finally he shrugged. “Game too.”

“What?”

“There are a lot of rabbits to catch, but not an endless supply. Same with the other animals. That’s why the deer was important, and the bow and arrow. I’ll have to start going out farther as the winter wears on, and it’s better to spend a few days out and come back with a deer than to spend a few days out and come back with a handful of squirrels.”

“What about the fish?”

“The fish will help. We might be able to use fire, somehow, to get through the ice—then you could fish on your own while I’m away. Or we could try setting the trap where the water is still running, and shove it down to the deeper part. We’ll figure it out.”

“But I’ll come with you. When you go to hunt deer, I’ll come along.”

“No. You’ll be safer—more comfortable—staying at the cave.”

Not without Grif. Not alone. Not worrying about Grif, out there in the cold, when he’d already proven he didn’t have sense enough to look after himself properly. “No, I should come.”

“You’d slow me down.” The words were said gently, almost kindly, but there wasn’t much doubt that Grif had made his decision.

As if it were his decision to make.

As if Kiernan were a child.

“You’ll have a base camp, won’t you? So I’ll come with you to the base camp, help you make the burrow, and then I can stay there if that’s what you think is best. I can set up snares in the area right around the camp while you go and hunt for larger game, and when you catch it, I’ll help you use all the parts.” Kiernan felt strangely desperate, as if he were making a case for a privilege much more important than being allowed to go on a hunting expedition. Maybe he was trying to persuade Grif to treat him like a partner, not a child. “I know the words—I’ll say them for every animal I catch, and I’ll leave the parts behind, like you showed me, and I’ll be careful to use everything I take. We have almost enough furs to make a blanket, now, don’t we? I can add to that.”

Grif looked doubtful. “It’ll be cold. And a lot of hard work. Even if I’m breaking the trail, it’s still not easy wading through the snow.”

“Don’t forget the crevasses. You told me about the mountaineers who rope themselves together. We should rope ourselves together, and then if you fall—”

“If I fell, I’d drag you down with me like a tiny ball of yarn.”

“Then maybe I should walk in front. If you were tied to a tiny ball of yarn and it fell into a crevasse, you could pull it out easily.”

“Are you remembering what it’s like to walk in front? You did it for part of one day, and I don’t think you enjoyed it too much.”

“You could carry all the gear. So I’d be breaking the path, but it wouldn’t be as hard because I wouldn’t be burdened.”

“We don’t have any rope, so all of this is just a distraction.”

“What are you doing with the deer hide? Couldn’t you make a rope from that? If you sliced it up, maybe braided it?”

“We’re not tying ourselves together. I’ll test the ground with a walking stick as I always do.”

“Okay,” Kiernan agreed. “And then we can both carry some of the gear. It’ll be useful for you to have someone extra to help carry the meat home.”

Grif sighed as if he knew exactly what was happening—knew Kiernan had manipulated him into agreeing—but he didn’t object. Instead he scowled and promised, “I’m going to load you down like a pack mule.”

Kiernan nodded his acquiescence. He was going on the trip; he’d worry about the details later.

Over the next month, Grif forced himself to spend longer and longer out of the cave, trying to find food from the dwindling supply. They ate fish, which seemed to be plentiful, but were difficult to pull out from under the ice. Kiernan came out with Grif increasingly often, learning about the wilderness and building his endurance. Grif taught him to wrestle and then to really fight, using whatever dirty tricks he could think of. He was always going to be slight, but he was strong for his size and quick, and he was smart. That was important.

The two of them could talk, or they could be comfortably quiet together. They teased, they squabbled, they made up, and they fucked, whenever and wherever. Wasting energy they should have spent on survival? Maybe so, but Grif didn’t care. Better to spend his efforts on something he enjoyed than throw them away trying to resist temptation.

One day Grif found a blue jay, dead and frozen in the snow, and knew it was a gift from the gods. They’d appreciated the respect he’d shown to the other creatures of the forest and had sent him this token, as they’d sent the deer, to help him take care of Kiernan. The feathers from the bird would make perfect fletching for the arrows Grif was making, and he’d use the arrows to hunt more food. For Kiernan.

Of course, everything wasn’t perfect. Kiernan was still thinking about his mission sometimes, Grif could tell. He got restless, as if he wanted to be happy in the cave, wanted to be content, but couldn’t quite let go. Grif could usually distract him, but only temporarily.

And as Grif came home with less and less from the snares, he knew they needed to focus on survival for a while. They needed to take their hunting trip, possibly only the first of several.

It was impossible to predict the weather in the mountains, not more than a few hours into the future. But Grif tried to play the game. If the gods sent a storm, then wouldn’t they be kind enough to follow it with a few days of calm? If they were kind enough to give a few days of calm, didn’t it make sense for them to get bored and start stirring up snow?

He knew the foolishness of relying on the gods for anything, let alone mercy, but he waited for the next storm to come and then abate before he decided it was time for a trip. There was still some game in the area surrounding the cave, but that should be their emergency supply.

He’d spent time in the long evenings rigging up two pairs of snow-walkers, strips of thin wood woven together into a platform that could be strapped to their boots and used to keep them from sinking as far into the snow. They were unwieldy and quite possibly more trouble than they were worth, but Kiernan loved his pair, skipping about like a baby goat on the first day of spring, so Grif’s efforts had been worthwhile.

They left camp midmorning, delayed because Grif had been sure there was another wave of clouds rolling in, then sure there wasn’t, then sure there was, until Kiernan had grabbed Grif’s walking stick and started off into the woods.

“You don’t even know where you’re going!” Grif called after him.

“I’m going somewhere, Grandpa! Come on, get moving.”

Grif jogged along, snow-walkers slapping against the soles of his boots, and took his rightful place in the lead of their little procession. Kiernan was towing the sled Grif had rigged up, with two curved tree trunks as runners and the hide from the first deer as a harness. There wasn’t too much on it, yet, only their blankets and tools, but hopefully it would be useful if Grif managed to find larger game.

No, not if. When.

He sent a quick thought to the gods, reminding them that it wasn’t only him they were toying with. Kiernan seemed like a good sort, didn’t he? Not someone they would want to hurt? Grif promised to keep looking after him, but he could use a little help, and it wasn’t like it would be a big deal for the gods to send a few big fat stags his way.

Or at least none of your storms, he amended quickly. The gods didn’t like greedy people, and they were notorious for playing games and being ironic and otherwise annoying. Sending him a whole herd of deer and then freezing him to death? Yeah, that’d be their style. I’d appreciate any game you send, but the weather really is the big one. Please let the weather hold.

“Where are we going?” Kiernan asked, cheerfully breaking into Grif’s thoughts. “Do you have a plan, or are we simply going to wander around and hope for the best?”

There was certainly an element of hopeful wandering to Grif’s plans, but it wouldn’t inspire much confidence if he admitted to that. “We’ll head west, down the valley. We’re still going downhill, so it’ll be warmer down there, with more food for animals.” He glanced around. “Keep your eyes out for another cave—maybe we’ll set up a second home for ourselves in the tropics.”

“I think there’s only another day or so of walking until it starts sloping back up to the pass. I came between those peaks down there, I’m sure of it.”

“A day or so of walking in the fall could be a week’s walking in the winter. I hope we don’t have to go that far. Remember, if we’re lucky, we’re going to be fighting our way back up the slope with a sled full of heavy deer meat. I don’t want to go any farther than we have to.”

“And you don’t think we should move down here permanently?”

“Not unless we can find a great campsite, no. Not yet. If we run out of firewood and game where we are now? Then we’ll have to move, great site or not.”

“You’ve thought all this through, haven’t you? I’ve been . . . not playing, exactly, but not worrying about it. I’ve been letting you do all of that.”

“There’s no need for both of us to worry.”

“And since I don’t actually know what I’m talking about, it makes sense for you to do all the brain work as well as the physical work. I can just be a burden on you in every way.”

Grif stopped walking and turned to face Kiernan. “I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or feeling sorry for yourself, but either is annoying. Stop it.”

Kiernan stared at him. He looked surprised, but then, after a moment, he grinned ruefully. “Right. Fair enough. Sorry.”

“If you want a job, look for stands of hardwood trees. Oaks are best, but I’ll take any kind you can find.”

“For better firewood?” Kiernan asked as Grif turned and started walking on.

“No, although if we can’t find deer, we could do worse than to take a load of good dry wood home with us. But deer like hardwood trees better than softwood. They eat the tender branches, and the buds. Oaks are good because they have acorns; that’s good for us and for deer.”

“Okay,” Kiernan agreed. He seemed cheerful again, now that he had something to do.

Because he wasn’t used to being helpless. Being served, maybe, but always as the one in the position of power.

It was an interesting switch. Grif was used to being bossed around, used to being one more sword, one more body. He was enjoying the chance to be in charge, even if it was only of himself and one other person. But if he was serious about looking after Kiernan, he needed to look after all of him, not just his body.

“Does my plan sound acceptable?” he asked over his shoulder. “Going west? Does that make sense to you?”

There was a pause long enough to make it clear that Kiernan was looking for a trick, then a cautious, “Yes?”

“That’s what we’ll do, then.” It was still him making the decision, but he could pretend Kiernan was in charge. That was probably all his servants back home had done anyway.

So they walked on, and when the ground dipped and the trees turned to about half hardwood, with some cedar trees that deer would find delicious, they made their camp. Another burrow into the side of a snowbank, the tunnel in and then a chamber tall enough to kneel in, if not stand upright. Grif lit a tallow candle on the snow ledge that would be their bed, then reluctantly reached for his coat.

“I want to set the snares,” Kiernan said, with a determination in his voice that suggested he’d been planning this for some time.

Well it was a little difficult to pretend Kiernan was in charge when he wanted to do such stupid things. But Grif tried anyway. “Aren’t you going to get the rabbit thawed for us?” They’d cooked it at the cave where they could have a wood fire, but they’d let it freeze on the outer layer of their packs all day. “I can do the snares.”

“I want to. I need to learn.”

“This isn’t familiar territory. You should practice at—”

“The whole point is that it’s not familiar. I need to learn to use the snares so I can travel, don’t I? That was the deal—you’d teach me, and then I could travel on my own.”

Grif scowled. “You gave up on that nonsense.”

“For now, yes. But I still have— Go ahead and laugh, but I have an important mission. I can’t go home until I’ve carried it out. You were right that I couldn’t travel before—before I knew what I was doing. But the snow-walkers help a great deal, and if I take it slow and make camp early every night, like we’re doing here, I should be fine, shouldn’t I? Especially if I can set the snares? I think this trip should be a test for me. I failed the last one; I realize that. But this time I’m better prepared.”

Grif bit back his own stupidity. He’d had to travel; they needed food. But he shouldn’t have brought Kiernan with him, shouldn’t have given him that vote of confidence. Now, Kiernan wanted to go and set snares, wanted to prove he could travel on his own. As if a few snares would be enough to get him safely across the east side of the mountains in the winter. Had Kiernan not heard what Grif had said, or was he refusing to understand? Were there some new words Grif needed to use, some fresh perspective that would make it crystal clear that the high passes and the east side of the mountains were absolutely impassible, by anyone, in the winter time?

Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing if Kiernan went out alone. If Grif truly wanted to protect him, if he was ready to do what was necessary. Maybe . . .

“I’ll light a fire,” Grif said. “Outside. I can find lots of good wood here. And I’ll warm up the rabbit, and as long as you’re careful—as long as you don’t go too far—you should be able to find your way back by following the fire, even if it’s dark.”

Kiernan frowned, clearly confused by how easy it had been to get what he wanted.

“And take my coat,” Grif added. Too obvious? No, not necessarily. “I have all the tools for the snares in the inside flap.”

“My coat is too small for you, though. We can’t trade.”

“I won’t be going far, and I’ll have the fire. It’s not a cold night, not yet. I don’t need a coat. But if you’re caught out there, or if anything goes wrong, I want you to have the extra warmth. You can burrow up on your own if you have to—not as nice, and you’ll be hungry, but you’ll be able to survive until morning.”

Now that the details were upon him, Kiernan looked as if he was having second thoughts about his adventure. Maybe he’d had a different plan; maybe he’d been hoping to negotiate away from setting the snares to something he truly wanted.

But he didn’t back down. “Fine,” he said, and shrugged out of his coat. Grif made the exchange, then smiled reassuringly and started to crawl toward the tunnel, the candle sheltered in one mittened hand. No point messing about with the flint when he already had a flame. Kiernan followed without further discussion.

Grif didn’t let himself watch as Kiernan headed out into the forest, poking dubiously with Grif’s walking stick at every step. This time apart would be a good learning opportunity. For Kiernan, yes, but also for Grif.

Because as soon as he got the fire started, as soon as it was tall enough to be seen for an hour’s walk in every direction, he was going to crawl back inside the burrow and pick out the stitches around the strange patch in the lining of Kiernan’s coat. He was going to find out what was inside, what Kiernan had been carrying around all this time. And if it was the mysterious secret orders, the mission Kiernan was willing to die over? Grif was going to read what he could and puzzle out what he couldn’t.

And then he’d go back out and put more wood on the fire, ensuring Kiernan made it safely back to camp. Because even if the little bastard was determined to throw his life away on his stupid mission, Grif wasn’t going to make it easy for him.