Then she realised. Of course they were following her. She smelt like a boar, carrying the piglet in her cloak. What an idiot I am, she thought. She was about to drop the cloak and let the piglet free, when she paused. No, I've got this far, she thought. I can't just leave it now. Not after all this. She started to scramble up the rocky path to the gate. I'm nearly there, I'm nearly there, she thought. The howls were so close Morg thought she could hear the snapping of the wolves' jaws and feel the warmth of their breath on her heels.