Marie is more of a rumour than a young woman, a soft-footed, near-silent shadow across the snow or amongst the timbers; the watchful glance in the twilight. The first most prey or enemies know of her is a distant crack and the whine of shot cutting frozen air, if not the sudden hot bloom of blood from some vital spot.

She has recently picked up more trouble than usual in her rovings, but having made her choices is determined to see it through.