Donnel left after the morning treatment round.
He had done what Ulmar sent him to do. Harrek had listened, Wyl had taken charge of the local sap and tree work, and the Howlers had begun keeping sick dens apart from clean ones. Donnel had no name that would open the Milk Snake road, and no blood tie there that mattered.
Harrek gave him two runners for the first stretch back toward Moon Brother ground.
"Tell Ulmar we're doing it," Harrek said.
Donnel nodded. "I will."
"And tell him not to act pleased about being right."
"He will act however he wants."
Harrek grunted. "That sounds like him."
Donnel turned to Torren. "You're still going to the spring road?"
"Yes."
"Milk Snakes won't care what I saw. I'd just be another stranger."
"Go back," Torren said. "Moon Brothers still need people who know the method."
"So do the Howlers."
"Wyl has it now."
Donnel glanced toward the sick dens. "Wyl has the tree part. Edda has the part where people get shouted at."
Edda, who was checking the packs, said, "That is the important part."
Donnel gave Torren a tired look. "Don't die after I leave. I don't want to explain that to my father."
"I'll try not to make your report difficult."
"That is not a promise."
"No."
"Good. Promises are getting expensive."
Then Donnel left with the runners.
Torren watched him go until the trees hid him. Then Harrek came up beside him and pointed toward a narrow path dropping east.
"Merrit goes with you to the spring road," Harrek said.
Merrit was a narrow man with a deep voice and an old scar along the side of his neck. He was not one of the sick callers, which was why Harrek could spare him. He knew the spring road, the old Milk Snake warning stones, and the last place Howler calls had gone unanswered.
Merrit did not look pleased.
"You take them to the white spring marker," Harrek told him. "No deeper unless you think it is safe."
Merrit frowned. "Then we stop at the marker."
Harrek ignored that. "If they answer, you tell them Howlers took the method. If they don't, come back and tell me the road is still dead."
"It has been dead for days."
"How many calls?"
"Six. Two long. Four short. Nothing back."
Oren looked at him. "No answer at all?"
"Nothing. Not even a warning."
Harrek's face tightened. "Milk Snakes closed the spring road before we got bad. Since then, no word from Red Smiths, Sons of the Mist, or Sons of the Trees. If they're sick, we don't know. If they're fine, we don't know that either."
Brannoc shifted the bowl pack on his shoulder. "All because of one road?"
Harrek looked at him. "One road can matter a lot up here."
Edda tied off the herb packet. "We have enough to show, not enough for a whole clan."
Torren nodded. "Same as before."
Harrek looked at him. "Milk Snakes don't like before."
"I noticed."
"No. You haven't." Harrek rubbed his strained throat. "They don't argue like Howlers. They don't test like Burned Men. They close a path and wait until everyone gets tired enough to go away."
"Then we don't go away quickly."
Merrit muttered, "That may be the stupidest answer and the only one."
...
The spring road was too quiet.
At first it looked normal: wet stone, low scrub, frozen water tracks, and thin pines bent over the slope. Then Torren noticed what was missing. No fresh footprints near the shared shelf. No smoke from the lower turn. No scraps, no broken baskets, no bits of cord tied to branches. Roads used by people always became messy. This one had been cleaned by absence.
Merrit stopped at a fork. "Past there is Milk Snake watching ground."
"I don't see anyone," Brannoc said.
Merrit gave him a flat look. "That is why they are good at it."
They moved slowly.
The first snake skin hung from a branch at shoulder height. It was pale, almost white, with faint bands where the old scales had dried and curled. Another skin lay stretched across a flat stone. A third had been tied around a spear shaft stuck into the ground.
Brannoc stared at it. "Are they nearby?"
"Probably," Edda said.
A small banded snake slid from between two stones and crossed the path.
Brannoc stepped back too fast and nearly bumped into Rusk.
"Careful," Rusk said.
Brannoc pointed. "Is it venomous?"
"No," Edda said. "Don't step on it."
"How do you know?"
"I have seen milk snakes before."
Merrit kept watching the rocks. "The snakes are not the problem."
Torren looked at the snake skins, the empty path, the rocks above. The snakes were there to slow people down. Make them look at the ground. Make them forget the stones.
The hidden voice spoke inside him.
Likely intimidation tactic. Nonvenomous snakes used to disrupt movement and attention. Maintain visual awareness of elevated positions.
Torren kept his face still.
"Eyes up," he said.
Brannoc looked embarrassed but obeyed.
...
The white spring marker stood ahead.
It was a pale stone with a snake carved into one side and a shallow bowl cut into the top. In warmer weather it probably held spring water. Now the bowl was frozen over. The path beyond had been blocked with loose stone, thorn branches, and old spear shafts tied together with snakeskin.
No one stood in sight.
Merrit cupped one hand near his mouth and gave a short Howler call.
It carried down the road and died.
No answer.
He waited, then called again.
Still nothing.
Oren crouched near the blocked path and studied the ground. "Tracks."
"How old?" Torren asked.
"Not old."
Rusk shifted. "They're here."
Merrit stepped forward. "Milk Snakes. Harrek of the Howlers sends word."
Nothing.
He tried again. "Moon Brothers took the red method. Howlers took it. We bring it to the spring road."
A voice came from the rocks.
"No road."
It was close enough to hear clearly and far enough that no one could see the speaker.
Torren looked toward the sound. "We brought method for the cough."
"No road."
"We're not asking to pass."
"No road."
Edda muttered, "This is going well."
Torren lifted one hand slightly to stop her.
"If there is no cough inside," he called, "keep us out. That makes sense. If there is cough inside, you are keeping help out too."
Silence.
Then another voice, lower and from a different place, answered. "Leave the pack."
"No," Torren said.
Rusk's hand moved toward his axe. Oren noticed but did not say anything.
The lower voice came again. "Leave the pack and go."
"If you mix it wrong, people die and you blame us. One of you listens. One repeats it back. Then we leave supplies."
A third voice said, "You give orders at closed stones?"
"I explain the method at closed stones," Torren said. "You closed the road. That part was yours."
Merrit glanced sideways at him. "They may not enjoy that."
"I know."
Then someone above coughed.
It was short and cut off quickly, but everyone heard it.
The rocks went quiet.
Torren did not point. He did not look straight toward the sound. He only said, "You have it inside."
No one answered.
Edda spoke louder. "You can hide a man. You can't hide his lungs."
A stone struck the ground near her feet.
Rusk stepped forward. "Throw another."
"Rusk," Oren said.
"What?"
"Stop."
Rusk stayed where he was, but he did not speak again.
Torren kept looking at the blocked road. "Red Smiths, Sons of the Mist, and Sons of the Trees are cut off behind you. Maybe they are well. Maybe they are not. No one knows because no one can pass and no one answers."
The lower voice answered, "That is why they live."
"Maybe," Torren said. "Or maybe they die where no one hears."
The silence after that lasted longer.
Then the thorn barrier shifted.
A woman stepped out from behind it. She was older than Torren expected, with pale snakeskin wrapped around one wrist and another strip tied through her hair. Her face was narrow. Her eyes moved from Torren to Merrit, then to Rusk, then to Edda, then to the pack.
"One crosses," she said.
Oren straightened. "No."
The woman ignored him. Her eyes stayed on Torren. "Only the pale one."
Rusk laughed once, without humor. "Absolutely not."
Merrit took a step back. "Milk Snakes don't ask that unless they want a man alone."
Edda looked at Torren. "They want you because you're easiest to keep."
The Milk Snake woman said nothing.
Torren felt every eye on him. He looked at the blocked road, then at the rocks above it. If they refused, the Milk Snakes would close again. If they left the pack, the method might be ruined or twisted. If they pushed, people would die before anyone reached the other side.
The hidden voice came quietly.
Refusal preserves immediate personal safety but likely fails mission objective. Solo entry increases risk but maximizes probability of direct contact. Recommend conditional acceptance: limit carried supplies, establish return interval, leave primary resources outside, avoid physical contact, maintain procedural control.
Torren breathed in slowly.
"I go," he said.
Rusk turned on him. "No, you don't."
"We came because no one hears them," Torren said. "If they let one man hear, one man goes."
Oren's voice was calmer but no less firm. "This is a bad crossing."
"Yes."
"That is not an answer."
"It is the answer we have."
Edda stepped closer. "They can take you inside and say you never came out."
"They could kill us from the rocks now if that was all they wanted."
"That does not make this smart."
"No."
"Then why are you doing it?"
Torren looked past the barrier. "Because the road is closed, and three clans behind it have gone silent."
No one had an immediate answer to that.
Rusk shook his head. "You are not going in there without steel."
Torren unfastened his axe and handed it to him. "If they want me dead inside, steel will not fix it."
"That is a stupid sentence."
"It is still true."
Rusk took the axe like he wanted to throw it at him.
Torren removed his knife next and gave it to Oren. Then he crouched by the treatment pack and opened it. He did not take everything. He took one small horn cap of prepared sap-water, a bone measure, a little bitterleaf, a strip of willow bark, a small pine bundle, two bark instruction strips, and one marked bowl. He wrapped them in a small hide packet and tied it at his waist.
Edda watched closely. "Not that cap. The other one. That one is stronger."
Torren switched caps.
"And take the clean cloth."
He did.
"And if they make you use their dirty bowl, refuse."
"I know."
"Say it."
"I refuse dirty bowls."
"Good."
Oren stepped closer. "How long?"
Torren looked at the Milk Snake woman. "How long before I come back?"
She stared at him. "When speaking is done."
Oren said, "Not good enough."
The woman's eyes narrowed.
Torren said, "Sun touches that ridge." He pointed to a narrow line of stone west of the spring marker. "If I am not back by then, they leave."
Rusk said, "No, we don't."
Torren turned to him. "Yes. You do. You go back to Harrek. Then Harrag. No one rushes the road."
Rusk stepped closer, face hard. "You do not give me that order."
"I am giving Oren the order."
Oren looked at Torren for a long moment. He did not like it. He did not pretend to. "If you are not back by that ridge shadow, we leave a marker and go."
Rusk cursed under his breath.
Edda said, "And if you start coughing?"
"I say so."
"To them too?"
"Yes."
"Good. If you lie about symptoms, I hope they keep you."
Torren almost smiled. "That is touching."
"It wasn't meant to be."
Brannoc looked pale. "Should I come?"
"No," Torren said.
"I could carry—"
"No."
Brannoc shut his mouth.
Merrit looked relieved again and tried not to show it.
The Milk Snake woman stepped aside, just enough to open a narrow gap in the thorn barrier. "Only you."
Torren walked to the white spring marker and stopped before crossing.
He looked back once.
Oren stood still, holding Torren's knife. Rusk held his axe and looked furious. Edda had both arms crossed, face tight with anger and worry. Brannoc looked like he wanted an order that made sense. Merrit watched the rocks, not Torren.
Torren turned back to the Milk Snake woman. "One of yours repeats the method back to me."
"If you get that far," she said.
"That was the condition."
Her mouth tightened. Then she nodded once. "If you get that far."
Torren stepped through the barrier.
The path beyond was narrow and damp. Milk snakes moved in the stones on either side, pale bodies sliding through cracks and roots. None came close to him. The woman walked ahead without looking back. Two unseen people shifted above, keeping pace. Torren could hear them now that he was inside: soft steps, small stones, controlled breathing.
Behind him, the barrier was pulled back into place.
The sound of Oren, Rusk, Edda, Brannoc, and Merrit disappeared almost at once behind thorn, stone, and the low wet bend of the road.
Torren followed the Milk Snake woman deeper into the closed spring path, carrying only a small packet of medicine and no weapon.