asked Fell a little coldly. “Just because your own kits are safe?”
“Oh, yes, yes indeed,” answered Ottol, “but as you zay, zey are mine. And I love life, Fell, and a fair chase too. Nature is nature, as zee Great One decrees, in all its harshness, or zelfishness. But tell me, Fell,” added Ottol, watching the wolf as he began to pad away, “you have your freedom perhaps, but have you nothing to protect? To care for.”
Fell did not answer and felt a strange sorrow in his belly.
“Well, good hunting zen, Fell of zee Riverbank,” cried Ottol, as his family gathered nervously around him.
Fell began to run, his right paw stinging furiously. He realised that he was sad to leave the beaver, and his pretty little family, for it had been good to talk with Ottol, almost like a friend. But then he came to the clearing and saw the slots of a sika deer in the snow. Fell’s head went down immediately and his pace grew faster, and in a moment the wolf had spotted it. It was a small deer, grazing on its own, and although it looked thin and scrawny, at least it was a meal.
The excitement coursing through Fell’s body protected him from the pain of his wound, and his pace didn’t slacken. The little deer was young and inexperienced, and within a moment the black wolf had sprung.
Fell missed the kill. The thing that had happened to Larka long ago, and to Fell many times, was happening again. In his mind’s eye the Sight had already given Fell a vision of what might have been, and of the stricken deer’s pain, which Fell experienced in his own body, while in reality he missed the leap and the deer ran free.
“The light or the darkness?” growled Fell as he licked his still hungry lips and looked mournfully at the animal vanishing into the distance. Fell realised that his path had taken him towards the edge of the trees, and as he looked out, he saw the valley and, far below, the village of Moldov he had been skirting now for three days, despite his reluctance to follow the voice. Fell’s heart beat faster, as he thought of his vision in the pool and wondered if the child was really sleeping somewhere below. Was he not sworn to hunt for meaning and to track down lies? But he shook his head. Ottol’s words of the Guardian had been utter madness and he wanted nothing to do with it. He threw back his sleek black muzzle and howled.
ALINA SCULCUVANT HEARD THE SAVAGE VOICE on the wind, and it made the young woman start and turn fearfully. She was in the open and far below her she could see the valley where her flight had begun, laid out like a picture book. She shivered bitterly and stamped her booted feet in the snow. They were so cold they felt like blocks of ice, but her shirt was damp with sweat, and Alina knew that if she stopped too long the air might chill it to her back.
Alina had halted for a moment to sit on a large rock, and around her the air was filled with chattering cries, as three magpies scavenged in the snow behind her. The late afternoon sun was pressing through drifting clouds, and she suddenly pulled up the sleeve on her right arm to look at the mark. Then she got up and scrambled on up the slope.
Just that morning, along the edge of the tree line, Alina had seen a group of villagers from Moldov and amongst them Malduk. Now she hated him with all her heart. They had almost caught her with their dogs, but Alina had managed to pull herself down into a large abandoned badger’s set, and the scent had masked her own.
The scent had made the hunting dogs so wild that their masters had begun to drive them back down the mountain. Alina had waited almost two hours in that tiny, cramped space, curled up like a ball, but at least it had been warmer in there, and the girl had almost fallen asleep.
Alina had known that she had to keep moving, to get as far away as possible from her home, or that terrible place she had had to call home. They would never stop hunting her now, and the chase could not end in a
“Oh, yes, yes indeed,” answered Ottol, “but as you zay, zey are mine. And I love life, Fell, and a fair chase too. Nature is nature, as zee Great One decrees, in all its harshness, or zelfishness. But tell me, Fell,” added Ottol, watching the wolf as he began to pad away, “you have your freedom perhaps, but have you nothing to protect? To care for.”
Fell did not answer and felt a strange sorrow in his belly.
“Well, good hunting zen, Fell of zee Riverbank,” cried Ottol, as his family gathered nervously around him.
Fell began to run, his right paw stinging furiously. He realised that he was sad to leave the beaver, and his pretty little family, for it had been good to talk with Ottol, almost like a friend. But then he came to the clearing and saw the slots of a sika deer in the snow. Fell’s head went down immediately and his pace grew faster, and in a moment the wolf had spotted it. It was a small deer, grazing on its own, and although it looked thin and scrawny, at least it was a meal.
The excitement coursing through Fell’s body protected him from the pain of his wound, and his pace didn’t slacken. The little deer was young and inexperienced, and within a moment the black wolf had sprung.
Fell missed the kill. The thing that had happened to Larka long ago, and to Fell many times, was happening again. In his mind’s eye the Sight had already given Fell a vision of what might have been, and of the stricken deer’s pain, which Fell experienced in his own body, while in reality he missed the leap and the deer ran free.
“The light or the darkness?” growled Fell as he licked his still hungry lips and looked mournfully at the animal vanishing into the distance. Fell realised that his path had taken him towards the edge of the trees, and as he looked out, he saw the valley and, far below, the village of Moldov he had been skirting now for three days, despite his reluctance to follow the voice. Fell’s heart beat faster, as he thought of his vision in the pool and wondered if the child was really sleeping somewhere below. Was he not sworn to hunt for meaning and to track down lies? But he shook his head. Ottol’s words of the Guardian had been utter madness and he wanted nothing to do with it. He threw back his sleek black muzzle and howled.
ALINA SCULCUVANT HEARD THE SAVAGE VOICE on the wind, and it made the young woman start and turn fearfully. She was in the open and far below her she could see the valley where her flight had begun, laid out like a picture book. She shivered bitterly and stamped her booted feet in the snow. They were so cold they felt like blocks of ice, but her shirt was damp with sweat, and Alina knew that if she stopped too long the air might chill it to her back.
Alina had halted for a moment to sit on a large rock, and around her the air was filled with chattering cries, as three magpies scavenged in the snow behind her. The late afternoon sun was pressing through drifting clouds, and she suddenly pulled up the sleeve on her right arm to look at the mark. Then she got up and scrambled on up the slope.
Just that morning, along the edge of the tree line, Alina had seen a group of villagers from Moldov and amongst them Malduk. Now she hated him with all her heart. They had almost caught her with their dogs, but Alina had managed to pull herself down into a large abandoned badger’s set, and the scent had masked her own.
The scent had made the hunting dogs so wild that their masters had begun to drive them back down the mountain. Alina had waited almost two hours in that tiny, cramped space, curled up like a ball, but at least it had been warmer in there, and the girl had almost fallen asleep.
Alina had known that she had to keep moving, to get as far away as possible from her home, or that terrible place she had had to call home. They would never stop hunting her now, and the chase could not end in a
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