Biorn found himself swept back as the press of numbers overbore the little knot of sorely wounded men.

Someone caught him by the arm and snatched him from the mellay into the cover of a thicket.

He saw dimly that it was Leif.
He was giddy and retching from weariness, and something inside him was cold as ice, though his head burned.

It was not rage or grief, but awe, for his father had fallen and the end of the world had come.

The noise of the battle died, as the two pushed through the undergrowth and came into the open spaces of the wood.