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    Summary

    Arthur let himself soften, turned to keep his eyes on the fire that glowed warm against the biting cold of the morning. “I know,” He said. “Things ain’t good for us right now, but… it ain’t safe. You know what the O’Driscolls are like, for folk like me.”

    “I’ve watched you kill, Arthur,” Said Pearson, and there was a flicker of that old fear deep in his eyes, never quite gone away. The smartest part of him still that blustering navy man taking command of the cooking to hide how terrified he was of them. Fear that was faint, but still sour, on the still air. “I’ve seen what you do to idiots who pick fights with us. You werewolves aren’t that fragile.”

    “We ain’t that strong, neither,” Arthur told him.

     

    The Pinkertons have been lost in the snow, and the law has bigger game on its mind. The O'Driscolls aren't as easy to lose.

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