Trap-trap. I froze where I was, my legs curled under the eave of the roof while I clung to the two awls sunk between the shakes. I did not even breathe. It was not Nighteyes. No. Small Ferret. Trap-trap. Go away. Trap-trap. It’s a trap? Trap-trap for Fitz-Wolf. Old Blood knows, Big Ferret said, go with, go with, warn Fitz-Wolf. Rolf-Bear knew your smell. Trap-trap. Go away.
