Trehearne frowned and in the interval of silence he heard the noises from the clearing--the whining growl of hounds and the sudden lifting of human voices. "Your parents?" "No," said Torin. "They are still trying to catch our beasts in the forest." "Look out and see who has come, Torin." He flattened himself in the corner behind the door. The boy opened it and peered. "Two men," he whispered. "A hunter whose name is Kurat--and a Vardda." He drew back and looked at Trehearne. "They were hunting you?" Trehearne nodded. His face had tightened and grown cruel. "Give me a knife." Torin handed him a skinning blade of crystal chipped to a razor edge. Trehearne said, "Go and tell them I am dead from the hounds' tearing. Tell the Vardda to come and help you carry out my body." Torin hesitated, then he went. Trehearne heard him calling across the clearing. The gabble of voices increased and Yann's familiar laughter sounded. The boy was talking, telling the details of Trehearne's dying. Yann strode into the hut. He came confidently. He had nothing to fear. And then Trehearne's arm was around his throat and the point of the knife was biting in under the angle of the jaw. "Don't move," said Trehearne. And again, "Don't move!" Yann stood still. Blood was running down the side of his neck. "You'll cut the vein," he whispered. "No deeper, please, no deeper." He had not picked up any weapons on the way. There was none in his belt, none in his hands. Trehearne took the point of the knife out of Yann's throat and then he hit him. Yann fell sprawling on the floor. He started to complain, and Trehearne kicked him, as hard as he could with his bare foot, twice in the ribs, wanting to hear bone break. Yann's breath came out with a rush. Over his shoulder Trehearne said to Torin, wide-eyed in the doorway, "Keep watch, and tell me if anyone comes." "They are busy with the hounds and with talking," the boy said. And then, "Will you kill him?" "I'd enjoy it." Trehearne touched Yann again with his foot. "You tried it that other time, too, didn't you? God damn it, answer me! Didn't you?" Coughing, his face against the floor, Yann muttered, "Yes." "You crept up behind me, between those growths. You pulled my air-line loose and ducked before I could turn around. You went to a lot of trouble. Why did you save my life?" Yann groaned and retched. "I'm sick." "You'll be sicker." Trehearne got him by the hair of the head, standing carefully and watching for any sudden move, and dragged him half erect. "Sit up and talk like a man. Why did you undo all your good work? You could have let me die right there." Yann shook his head. "You were blundering straight into the others. Somebody was going to save you, and I figured it might as well be me. If you had any suspicions you'd switch them to someone else. Make it easier next time." His mouth twisted into a parody of a grin. "It did."