"My father had that temper . He refused the king's offer of protection. Rolf saw his opportunity and took it . That's what that temper of yours got our people."
That slowed Rory down. "I am useless."
His mother approached. "Sixteen years ago I sent you to your uncles to keep you safe. Look at us. We have Ahern black, curly hair. We have Ahern green eyes and coloring. In all things, your are Ahern, except you have a bit of Rolf's cool cunning in you enter. But the cunning is not visible to Rolf.
His other two sons and his daughter are all blonde and blue eyed. He sees you and he sees Ahern. It fills him with dread. You have noticed how he looks at you?"
"Ay, mother, like a wolf watches for a rival."
"But I cannot hide forever."
Rory scanned the room with cooler eyes. His half sister, Dorcas sat at Rolfs' left hand. Rory had to admit, she was a beauty, with waist long red-gold hair and pale skin. She was tall and shapely, with breasts that could have given a dozen children suck. Already foreign men of prosperity had come seeking them for marriage. She flirted with them all and favoring none. Rory pitied the man she married. Sex would ever be a weapon with her. Her children would live only as tools of her personal ambition. Still, he bet she was hot in bed.
"I prefer venison enter."
The Saxon's cheered but the servants, Rory enter's people went dumb with shock . Gwen , his mother , dropped her ladle.
"Because he is the King. And to stop fools like enter Rolf from hunting them to extinction ."
"So if succeed, Rolf drags me before the King and is free from kin slaying. If I fail, I am disgraced. Who would follow me then?" He paused to reflect.
"I will require a small pot of those. Keep them in dirt, please."
The old woman left and the girl produced a very odd thing from her apron pocket . Her head remained bowed, under enter her woolen hood. "Sir, please take this. It might be of help."
"It is fine thing to have at least one person aiding me in my fool adventure. How can I ever thank you?" He touched her shoulder. She shivered, but not from the enter cold.
He hadn't seen any sign of any game. Only in his grandfather's time, the woods teamed with life. The Oaken Land was enter a resource for the whole tribe. In less then a generation Rolf had hunted these woods out. It broke the young man's heart.
There. Was that steam rising above that boulder beside the stream? Rory flattened. The steam was too high up to be a wolf or boar. It might just be stray cow .
The hoarfrost had made the snow as crunchy as walnut shells. So he slipped into the creek, thigh deep and waded to the sign of breath. He used the banks overgrowth to screen his outline from his prey. He was cold, wet and very patient in his approach . Any deer to survive so long would be skittish indeed.
The great White Stag didn 't look AT Rory . He looked THROUGH him. He considered the young hunter with his eyes, black as jet, then as a show of contempt, he simply sprung across the creek.
All deer, even monstrous white ones, have a favorite track. Rory interrupted the great ones route. He lifted himself from the creek. He sucked on some willow gum to thin his blood while he studied the beast's sign. This one was clever. He could see where his kicked his pellets into the reeds, to hide his spoor. He walked on rocks to avoid making tracks. But this was his path all right. He would be back.
A small snowdrift laid only a stride away from the place of ambush. That would have to do.
Reflexively, the boy grabbed the antlers and twisted with all his might . Hooves slipped enter on the icy rock and the buck his the ground with a mighty burst of wind. For the moment, Rory was happy to be alive. He gripped the antlers like a madman. Then the buck began kicking him.
Rory knew the lore, his uncles did teach him well. Still with flint , he slit the old King's belly open and feasted on his raw, smoking heart, like it was an apple .
Using his hatchet and rope , he lashed together a hunter's sled of birch and ash. Then he pulled it to old Hob. The pony took the towrope well enter enough, but Rory was confined to walking. It turned out it was good thing that the pony was weighed down.
The wolves actually appeared mollified. The lead pair followed and the other four fell in behind them. Fresh snow began to fall, dusting their gray fur.
"My father had that temper . He refused the king's offer of protection. Rolf saw his opportunity and took it . That's what that temper of yours got our people."
Rory scanned the room with cooler eyes. His half sister, Dorcas sat at Rolfs' left hand. Rory had to admit, she was a beauty, with waist long red-gold hair and pale skin. She was tall and shapely, with breasts that could have given a dozen children suck. Already foreign men of prosperity had come seeking them for marriage. She flirted with them all and favoring none. Rory pitied the man she married. Sex would ever be a weapon with her. Her children would live only as tools of her personal ambition. Still, he bet she was hot in bed.
"Because he is the King. And to stop fools like enter Rolf from hunting them to extinction ."
"So if succeed, Rolf drags me before the King and is free from kin slaying. If I fail, I am disgraced. Who would follow me then?" He paused to reflect.
"It is fine thing to have at least one person aiding me in my fool adventure. How can I ever thank you?" He touched her shoulder. She shivered, but not from the enter cold.
The hoarfrost had made the snow as crunchy as walnut shells. So he slipped into the creek, thigh deep and waded to the sign of breath. He used the banks overgrowth to screen his outline from his prey. He was cold, wet and very patient in his approach . Any deer to survive so long would be skittish indeed.
The great White Stag didn 't look AT Rory . He looked THROUGH him. He considered the young hunter with his eyes, black as jet, then as a show of contempt, he simply sprung across the creek.
A small snowdrift laid only a stride away from the place of ambush. That would have to do.
Reflexively, the boy grabbed the antlers and twisted with all his might . Hooves slipped enter on the icy rock and the buck his the ground with a mighty burst of wind. For the moment, Rory was happy to be alive. He gripped the antlers like a madman. Then the buck began kicking him.
Rory knew the lore, his uncles did teach him well. Still with flint , he slit the old King's belly open and feasted on his raw, smoking heart, like it was an apple .
The wolves actually appeared mollified. The lead pair followed and the other four fell in behind them. Fresh snow began to fall, dusting their gray fur.