Varg walked through the ruins for the third time, hunting for anything the fire hadn't taken. The ash was still warm. His boots left prints in what used to be the floor of his father's hall. He found her wedged between two fallen beams — a woman, breathing shallow, her face black with soot. She opened her eyes when he knelt beside her. He pulled the beams off and dragged her clear. She coughed hard, clutching his arm. "I saw," she rasped. "I saw who did this." Varg went still. His heart hammered against his ribs. "Tell me," he said. She shook her head. Her fingers tightened on his sleeve. "The purple medicine. From the caves past the eastern ridge. Mushrooms in it. Keeps the fever away." She coughed again, blood on her lips. "Bring it. Then I talk." Varg stared at her. The silence stretched between them like a blade. He could shake it out of her, maybe. But she looked half-dead already. He stood. "I'll find it," he said. The woman closed her eyes. Varg turned toward the ridge, the weight of the dead pressing harder on his shoulders.