'Straight down or left through the pines?' Asked Dion in his low, level voice. The words seemed to surprise the man lying on the ground, although, initially, only his face gave this away. The remainder of him was wrapped as tight as a parcel with a heavy cream canvas sheet and a full fifteen yards of cord.

  'After two days of silence, that's the first thing you say to me?!' The man then barked at his captor, his arms rustling comically from within the bondage. A restrained exclamation.

  'Left.' Dion's utterance came out so deeply and with such passiveness that they barely appeared at all, but he knew The Prisoner could hear him. Despite his preference for brevity, he'd been growing bored these last few hours, and the snowy backdrop all about him was, despite its beauty and purity, offering a pittance in terms of stimulus. The white decline of the slope had changed little in a long time, and the motion parallax of the far valleys and peaks of North Ruskel made it appear as though they'd barely moved at all. A little toying with his bounty was just the ticket to shake away the ennui.

  After all, humour was a rare commodity in the life of a claimant. And anyway, he'd read the deviance sheet for the man he was dragging. He deserved far worse. Dion knew little of this area, but he trusted not just his gut but also his spatial memory. The crop of emerald pines just down the way to the left looked familiar enough from when he made the climb four days ago. Their dark trunks and darker green needles looked inviting in the setting sunlight, a place of quiet and protection from the night's dangers. Dion hoisted and secured the rope about his shoulder and set off on a gentle course correction to the left. His snowshoes lifted and dropped in exaggerated arches, sifting the caught snow with each step, before crunching back down to form shallow divots.

  He sensed a fresh energy of unrest from behind him. The simple question must've stirred the captive from a daydream. Perhaps the toying hadn't been worth it.

  'You know we're not going to make it to Dwyr Hallt before morning,' he exclaimed, 'let alone nightfall!'

  Dion Cylith marched on, mouth sealed.

  'There's not just wolves and bears in these peaks as well you know? Plenty of cryptids! Plenty. Whole sea of half eaten corpses just inches beneath the snow you know? All around us. Decades old some of 'em. Ain't wasted away for the cold you know? You might not mind being one of 'em but you've tied me up like a trussed ham!'

  Dion stopped in his tracks and the captive suddenly ceased his yammering as he did so. But Dion only brushed some long loose locks of iron grey hair from his eyes, before continuing his journey.

  'Pleeeeenty of bad things out here, mind!' Continued the captive, a note of clear frustration now attached to the words in the form of a jarring squeakiness. 'I only came up here cos I thought no claimant would be foolish enough to risk his skin by stepping foot in these lands.'

  'I wonder if that partly explains the oddly high price on this mountebank.' Thought Dion.

  The captive restarted his wailing. 'You heard of the third man right? Of course ya have, big ol' Claimant Wanderer like you, I bet you've even seen one once or twice. Well I saw one a week before ya turned up and hog tied me before I could even plead you my case...'

  'I should snag his mouth with my kerchief when we settle for the night,' Dion pondered in his head, 'although he might choke on it. I wonder if 'excessive yammering' was missed from the list of charges for 'Almsman Schwinn'.'

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  '... and let me tell ya, this was no man.' Continued Schwinn. 'And the legends are wrong, this one weren't a friendly type. Didn't try to lead me back home or anything, although I wasn't lost, was just lookin' for some winter berries and layin' squirrel traps in the woods. But this one was of an evil kind, you know? Didn't say nothing, real silent type like you. but I can tell you got a kindness in ya, you know? This third man. There was no kindness in his eyes. He just wanted me gone from these parts was my guess. But then, in a blink, he was vanished! I swear on the Kindred Triad. Right before me. Would be a fool's endeavour to assume he was gone for good though. He might be watching us right now, you know? And if he is I can tell you now you'd wish I was free of these bonds to help ya in a scrap.'

  They were close enough now to the treeline that Dion could make out the individual grooves in the bark. Despite his inane jabber, Schwinn had a point. At this pace they would never make it to Dwyr Hallt for at least another fifteen hours, and the rope was starting to pinch at his shoulders. He'd even considered riding the captive like a toboggan at one point to speed up the journey but one hidden rock in the snow could split the bounty's head like a walnut shell, and the bonus for a live capture would be out the door.

  Dion slowed to study the terrain once more. He hadn't ventured to this range in many, many years, not since his early days in the Ruskelite army, and he'd spotted a few tracks to trigger concern earlier that morning. Big ones. Schwinn was clearly spinning tales of the mystic as a means of smooth-talking his way to freedom, but there may have been a kernel of truth behind them. It was time for some high ground.

  The gaps between the trees were wide enough for Dion to pave a comfortable route through the little wood, although he still made a point to watch out for the hazardous snow wells that lay around the pines. After about half an hour of slow walking, when the light was dimming to a gentle russet colour, Dion came to a halt beside a sturdy beech growing amongst the thinner pines, and dropped the cord line beside Schwinn.

  'Oh we're stopping! Thank everything. I need to piss! And I'm starving! And gasping! Of all the chasers I've come across, you are by far the worst host. Let me out of this thing I beg of ya.'

  Dion turned, leaning forward a little, and offered Schwinn a pantomime expression of confusion. He then took the cord, knotted the end about itself several times and threw it upwards with careful aim. It whizzed through the air, the trailing cordline flying up after it like an un-coiling snake, before the belly of the rope caught on the rough skin of a branch about five yards up. The knotted end stopped dead in its ascent and twisted before dropping into the snow with a satisfying, crisp thud.

  'What are you... doing?!' Cried Schwinn, despite it being quite clear he knew the answer. Dion sauntered round to where the rope landed, taking his time so as to stoke the tension in Schwinn's heart. He picked the knot up from its dip in the snow, and, securing his feet, leaned back and started hoisting the rope. The cocooned Schwinn jerked forward with each pull, as if taking part in some comical ritual dance, until the whole body started lifting. Dion's chest, deep and broad like a bull's, strained at the seams from the exertion. He was strong, yes, but no longer a young man.

  'Ahhh. Whaat are you doooing?! You mad dooog!' Schwinn was now fully in the air and swinging pendulously.

  'Protecting you from all those beasts you were talking about.' Dion heaved some more, until eventually Schwinn reached the branch over which the cord was looped. He then stretched and tied the knotted end to a lower branch, before climbing the grand old tree himself, using the many grooves and sturdy twigs as leverage. He found Schwinn, and secured him flat in between two heavy branches that had ensnared each other as they'd grown. He tied his supply pack to a nearby branch and then shuffled backwards to rest his shoulders against the solid trunk.

  'You can't expect me to stay here all night.' Said Schwinn, sounding weary after his ordeal, 'I might fall in the night.'

  'Best to keep still then.' Grumbled Dion, his eyes now closed, a serenity about him.