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piss. If you want me to untie you for a couple of minutes I will. But the first sign of trouble from you, lad, and you’ll feel my boot up your arse. Are we clear?”
    I nod, still not sure how this is going to work out but short of any better options. Will moves to the other side of the tree and within seconds the ropes holding me fast loosen and fall to my waist. I start to attempt to push myself up into a standing position but my legs are useless, like jelly. Will seizes my elbow and drags me to my feet.
    “I’ll free your wrists too, just for a minute or two. Unless you want me to do the honours for you?”
    I back away from him. “No! No, thank you. I can manage.” Somehow.
    Will grins, and gestures me to a dark spot a few feet from us, just behind where the two horses are tethered. “Do it there, lad. And stay where I can see you.”
    “I, I need to… I need a private place.”
    “My fine rabbit found its way through your innards so quick? Okay, you can squat if you want. But stay in sight.”
    I sense no further concessions will be forthcoming and can only hope this vile individual doesn’t take it upon himself to inspect the site after I’m done. As it is, it takes all the determination I can muster, and a hefty dose of desperation, to shuffle the several feet to the edge of the clump of trees surrounding our camp and fumble to undo my all-weather trousers. My back to Will, I crouch and relieve myself, then deliberately wait a few moments longer to create the illusion I’m not quite done yet. I right my clothing again, with difficulty as my hands are frozen, and pick my way back through the fog to where he’s waiting for me, the kerchief dangling from his fingers ready to retie me.
    I shake my head. “You don’t need to do that. I can’t move from the tree, and my hands are so cold. Please.”
    He cocks his head to one side, then, “Your hands, lad. Show me.”
    I hold out my hands, palms down. Will takes one in his and squeezes.
    “Fuck, these are like lumps of ice. Ye should have said, laddie. Go warm them at the fire.”
    I don’t need to be asked twice. I stumble over to the small blaze and stretch my hands out to it. The heat wraps itself around my numb fingers. It hurts, but feels so good too. I rub them together, the tingle in my fingers an indication that the circulation is improving.
    A slight movement in the misty gloom beyond the fire attracts my attention. It’s Robbie, lounging on a pile of furs and wrapped in his plaid. His hands are also bare, his knees too, but he doesn’t appear cold. Maybe he’s more acclimatised than I am.
    “You can sit if you want, lad, and get properly warmed up. I won’t bite you.” His voice is low, and were it not for the precarious situation I find myself in I might even consider it sexy, especially with that Scottish brogue to add a seductive richness to the mix.
    I don’t answer. My response is to sink to my knees, loving the comforting sensation as the heat from the fire reaches my face. I hold my hands closer, watching them redden in the firelight.
    “What’s your name, laddie?”
    I glance up, and bless the day my parents opted for a name that could be shortened to something androgynous. “Charlie.”
    “Charlie, eh? And where are you from, Charlie lad? Did you say Glenridding?”
    I nod. Glenridding’s as good as anything else to say, I suppose. I’m wondering whether to elaborate and explain that I’m just staying at the youth hostel for a few days, but my home is in Manchester when I sense rather than hear Will approaching behind me. He eases himself onto the ground at my side. His movements are awkward and he hisses in a sharp breath when he shifts his weight. Robbie notices, as I do.
    “Is it worse, then?”
    “Aye. I’ll last the journey though, then Morag can fix me up.”
    “Mmm, rather you than me, cousin.”
    Will groans. “Even Morag’s tender mercies will be preferable to this.”
    I risk a glance at him and even in this