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.
He'd never heard that one of the first signs of freezing was
a wild slipping away of the wits. But he imagined that it
probably was because he still could not believe that what he
saw was real.
Get up, the words whispered. Get up! Come back, they
urged. Come back! Lies, they sighed. The cold is telling
lies! Like dreams of a blazing hearth seen through frosted
windows, the words wandered through Tanis's mind. Gently
they coaxed and encouraged. Beneath the simple words
danced the light, bright notes of a shepherd's pipe. Behind
the tune, beyond the words, flickered images of a place
where the cold had no power to touch him.
The wind, he thought, pulling away from Sturm. Or just
my sanity slipping away . . .
But there was no wind. Its howl was silenced. And when
he lifted his face to the night sky he no longer felt the
snow's deadly kiss. Beside him Sturm moved, slowly, but
with the deliberate care of a man marshalling strength.
"Tanis, do you hear?"
"The wind - it's died down."
"Aye," Sturm agreed, as though it had only just come to
his attention. "That, too."
Tanis looked at him in surprise. "You hear music?"
"Yes. It sounds like a shepherd's pipe. . . ." His words
wandered away, lost in surprise and sudden realization
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