At times he had taken to the ice, following the course of the stream for a few miles.

No snow had fallen; it would be easy to return on his own track.

Through this part of the forest no road was cut.
For nearly half an hour they drove in silence.

Only the whistle of the iron-bound runners on the powdery snow, the creak of the warming leather on the horses, the regular breathing of the team, broke the stillness of the forest.

Paul hoped against hope that Catrina was asleep.