Myth of the Ice Queen:
Blood and Ice Wolves
Chapter 5 - Pursuit of Wolves
Feyt awoke to the toe of a heavy boot kicking him.
"Get up, boy," Muroc ordered. "You got five minutes to eat." With that, he was gone.
Ohhh. Feyt rubbed the sleep from his eyes. It was still completely dark. They were not kidding about an early start! He quickly climbed out into the frigid air, pulling his clothing on and snatching his parka. It is going to be cold until I get moving. The past few days, I just got up with the light and counted on catching up with them each day. This is harder, he complained silently.
Muroc sent the twins out ahead, then he stomped back by where Feyt and the others were still chewing their breakfast of cold jerky. He glared at them all with his one eye and growled, "I told Dokara and Seelus the rest of us would follow. Hurry up and grab your packs before they get too far ahead."
Everyone began to snatch up whatever wasn't packed, stuffing it into their packs. Feyt saw everyone had light packs like his, and there were two larger packs of food. Someone will have to carry an extra load, he thought.
Muroc came back by, grabbed one of the heavy packs and thrust it at him saying, "Here. Make yourself useful." He paused, expectantly. Feyt could tell Muroc was daring him to say something. When he just set the pack with his own, Muroc grinned, picked up his own small pack, and moved to the head of their column. Feyt could see Gairet was picking up the other large pack.
Silently Feyt tied his pack on top of the big one and shouldered it with a grunt. Good grief! These men either eat too much or they're planning to be out here till spring! Haven't they ever heard of living off the land?
Muroc started at a brisk pace in the dark pre-morning air. They threaded between the low bushes and widely spaced spruce trees that dotted the landscape here, winding over ridge after ridge. It was not long before Feyt opened his parka to lose some heat. He did not want to get sweaty. That will bring a bone chilling cold later. At this temperature, once you were damp, it took forever to dry out, and the cold would start to seep in. Hypothermia is always a threat out here.
The sun was finally about to clear the horizon to their right when Muroc stopped suddenly in an area thicker with trees. Dokara had appeared out of nowhere. He whispered something to Muroc and was gone again. Muroc slung off his pack and turned around, motioning the others to keep silent. Aterius quickly dropped his pack and the others followed suit as well.
Something is happening. It has to be the ice wolves. Feyt fumbled with his straps and set his large pack on the ground, thankful to feel the weight slide off his shoulders. He found he was trembling from a sudden case of nerves. Man, you would think I was making my first kill all over again, Feyt admonished himself. Buck fever, they call it. He saw Tauras unsling his big crossbow and fit an arrow to it. He realized Tauras had been carrying it cocked, but unloaded. Aterius and Gairet both had javelins they had been using as staffs, but now they brought them to the ready.
Muroc motioned Aterius to the right and Gairet to the left. They disappeared behind the trees to each side. Muroc's sword was out and he signaled Feyt to follow him. As Feyt did, he drew his own long-knife. This is all happening so fast, he thought feeling slightly disjointed from the immediate events. I wish I had Selise's recurved bow. Or even better, I wish she was here herself. She would not miss. He felt a pang at the thought of Selice and how she would be upset and worried that he had sneaked away.
Muroc stopped behind a downed tree. Looking over his heavy shoulders, Feyt could see the ice wolves beyond. They were spread out across an opening in the trees. In spots, the wolves had pawed away the snow in the sparse grass and made beds for the night. Only a couple had already gotten up yet this morning, leaving round bare spots where they had lain all night melting the snow.
Feyt swallowed. There had to be twenty of them. Maybe more! He felt more than just a case of nerves now. A little shiver of fear tickled his back, making his gut knot up. Then, he saw his wolf.
It was bigger than the others were, and it was in the middle of the pack, standing, looking away with its ears up. Does it hear us? He could see the freshly scabbed slash that ran across its right eye. He felt again the guilt.
Mum. Serente. My fault. I was not there. With the guilt came his hatred. The fear went away. I am going to kill this one.
Muroc looked at him and nodded. He nodded back. Muroc whistled once loudly.
At the sound, half the wolves sprang up. Feyt heard Tauras's crossbow twang and one of the wolves in the middle of the clearing went down. Muroc was already charging forward silently, racing for the nearest wolf. It stood with its back to them. Feyt charged forward himself, his long-knife over his head ready to slash down. Across the wolves, he saw Aterius throw his javelin, and heard a yelp. On the far side, Dokara and Seelus's white furred figures were rushing forward as well. He heard their yells. Gairet's javelin flashed as it flew into a wolf to his right.
Muroc's blade descended on the first wolf. Everything else blurred as Feyt focused on his own target. Sprinting forward, a snarling wolf suddenly appeared from his left and he brought his long-knife down hard, stabbing. Yelping it fell and he stumbled over it.
He righted himself and kept running. He saw his wolf was looking straight at him. Its eyes were intelligent and malignant. It curled its lips and snarled. He charged it, his knife back up. Blood ran down his arm unnoticed.
It whirled and leapt away. No! No! It cannot get away! He struggled harder to run faster in the snow, but the crusted snow slowed him, impeding his feet. Suddenly a dark furred body crashed into his side.
He heard and felt his parka tearing as he went down with it. He rolled and thrust with his knife. It slid along the wolf's flank, raking fur and leaving a bloody line. It yelped, but was not hurt badly. Feyt threw his arm up in time to block as it lunged again. The teeth grazed his cheek. He felt its hot breath on his face as his forearm held it back. He plunged his long-knife into it, but it snarled even more fiercely and doubled its efforts to sink its teeth into his throat. Now his knife was stuck. The struggling wolf wrenched it out of his hand.
Feyt grabbed a handful of fur in his now empty knife hand, holding its head back. It was as big as he was and he felt its claws tearing his parka more. It shook its head and tore itself loose from his grasp. Oh, God! Now I'm in trouble. As its snarling jaws lashed at his face again, something flashed across his vision. Suddenly the wolf above him was missing its head. It flopped onto him and he pushed and kicked it away. His face was sticky with its blood.
Sitting up, he saw Muroc grinning at him, his one eye glinting. His sword was dripping fresh blood. "You make good bait, boy!" Then he was gone, charging after the wolves.
Feyt struggled up, staggering. The clearing was mostly empty. He could see the retreating forms of a few wolves. As he watched them loping away, he saw Tauras take aim and loose a last bolt. Lowering his crossbow, Tauras looked around and saw him. He waved and yelled excitedly. Feyt could not tell what he said. He looked around dazedly. There were several wolf bodies strewn about. A couple were thrashing or trying to crawl away. He heard their whines and yelps.
Dokara and Seelus were dispatching the living wolves as they made their way across the opening. Looking down, Feyt saw his long-knife protruding from the wolf at his feet. He reached down, and yanked. It was still stuck. He put his foot on the corpse and pulled harder. It came out suddenly and he staggered again. He stood there staring at it.
Feeling a hand on his shoulder, he looked up. Aterius stood there. "Are you hurt?" He could see the concern in his eyes.
"Hurt? Uh... No." Funny question.
"You sure?" Aterius frowned.
"Yeah. I'm fine."
"Let me see you face." Aterius raised his hand to touch his face.
"Ouch. Watch it!"
"Not hurt, huh? It's shallow. You're going to have a nice scar there though," Aterius grimaced. "We'll wash it up and take a better look in a bit."
Feyt touched his hand to his head where Aterius had been. Ow. That is tender! When did that happen? His hand came away bloody. He looked down at his parka, its front hung torn from his neck to his waist, and the one side had several smaller rips. From the wolf's paws, he supposed. I knew the hunters were getting close to the ice wolves, but I did not know we would catch them so soon. Catch them... My wolf! Feyt looked around quickly.
He did not see any bodies that looked like it had a slashed eye. The cursed thing has gotten away! I missed my chance! How could I let it get away when... when it was my fault it killed them. My fault it got away, too. He felt his anger rising. I should have been faster. I should have thrown my knife. I should have done... something. I cannot go back without killing that monster. Feyt felt sick in his gut from his anguish.
Muroc called from across the clearing. "How many?"
Gairet answered back from the far side, "Eleven. There are at least two blood trails, maybe three. They'll stiffen up in a few hours and we'll catch up with them if we're lucky."
Catch up? "We're going on? We're not letting them go, right?" Feyt could not keep the eagerness out of his voice.
"Let them go? Of course not! We only got half of them. There is still a good size pack to hunt." Aterius was wiping his javelin. "You're keeping score aren't you? You've got two."
"One!" Muroc corrected. "I had to take the head off the second one."
"Hey! Bait gets some credit," Gairet said laughing. "One-and-a-half, then. All in favor?"
Feyt heard several "Ayes" echo across the clearing.
"This isn't a democracy, regardless of Aterius's high ideals," Murac growled, but Aterius only grinned widely. "Go get your packs, the real chase starts now. Now, they know they're being hunted."
Feyt did not see the twins the rest of the day. They ranged out in front, scouting, while the rest of them slogged along behind. Carrying the large pack, Feyt was soon concentrating on just keeping moving. He struggled along placing one foot in front of the other in the thick snow. Before they resumed the chase, Aterius had wrapped a strip of cloth around his head and promised to "sew" it when they made camp. That had stopped the seepage of blood from getting into his eyes as he sweated. He was generating so much heat from carrying the packs that he left his parka wide open to cool down, which worked since most of the buttons were torn off anyway. He was hot enough as he walked along that he was not too upset about the coat. Yet. I will be when it gets cold tonight though, he reminded himself.
Gairet had cut the tails off the eleven wolves they killed and, after flourishing them about for an hour or so, put them into his pack when he grew bored of the game. Taurus kept complaining he had lost five of his crossbow bolts. "I only brought forty. Do you know what those things cost?" he asked a number of times. Finally, Muroc assured him he would get them replaced out of the money the village leaders promised to pay.
Feyt had not known Swornson had agreed to pay the hunters. Something about being paid to do what honor demanded rankled him just a bit. Then it dawned on him. These guys are bounty hunters. I’ve heard of such men, but I never knew anyone who could say they ever met one before. Some of the Freebriers are supposedly bounty hunters. Only, they hunted men for their bounties. That brought a shiver to Feyt's spine. I wonder if Muroc and his band normally hunt men? Maybe it is better I don’t think about that.
Muroc did not push them as hard through the afternoon as he had when they first started this morning. The hunt's success made him talkative for once. "They are hauling their tails fast right now," he said. "We'll give them some space; make them think we're done. If we do not push them hard, they will slow down in another day or so. Then we'll hit them again."
That made Feyt feel much better. I am glad to be among bounty hunters, he decided, however bad they may be; if that is what I need to get my revenge. Suddenly, he could visualize his sister’s, Serente’s, face smiling at him. He shook away the tears that tried to form and pressed on. I am going to kill them, Serente. For you and Mum. You’ll see.
Just before dusk, Dokara came back with two more tails and a crossbow quarrel. He handed the tails to Gairet and the bolt to Tauras. Gairet laughed and began to try to guess which of them should count the two extra kills, but Tauras looked a little sad.
When pushed by the boisterous Gairet, Tauras complained, "I know Muroc. He will not replace what has not been lost. I'd have been better off with a brand new quarrel than an old worn one."
"Let me throw that one away for you, then," Gairet offered.
Taurus, however, became very protective of it, saying, "No. That is all right. I have grown fond of it, you know. I mark each kill on each bolt. See? This one has six kills." He rapidly put it away to keep Gairet from absconding with it.
"Hah. So, you're counting kills too. How many misses though?"
"No one counts misses," Taurus retorted.
"How do you know when you've used it up then? It has to be worn out sometime right?"
Disturbed, Tauras muttered, "Used it up? How do I know? That is not fair, Gairet. Misses don't use them up. Do they?"
"Oh, yeah," Gairet turned his head and winked to everyone else. "Once they're used up, you can't hit anything with them. I bet that one is used up."
Tauras mumbled and complained quietly for a while, but he would not return the "used up" bolt and assured Gairet repeatedly it was still good. He changed the subject when Gairet laughed and asked, "How do you know for sure?" one more time.
That night, when they made camp, Aterius sat Feyt down by a larger fire than normal and took out a needle and some thread. "This is not thread, it is sinew," he insisted. "Thread isn't good in a wound." Feyt sat in front of him with the cut side of his face turned into the firelight.
"Ouch!" Feyt exclaimed, eliciting laughter around the fire. "That hurts!"
"It's going to. Grit your teeth." After that, Feyt bit his lip and other than a few grunts said nothing until Aterius finished the stitching.
Seelus, from across the fire, said, "Feyt-bait. Good job today. You got two. Not bad."
Dokara nodded. "Yeah, not a bad job. Word of advice though, you charged right out into the middle of them. What were you after? That big one in the middle?"
"Yeah. The big one."
That surprised, Dokara. "Really? The big one? Looking for a trophy?"
"No..."
"He's the bait remember," Gairet laughed. "He wanted to feed the big one."
"No." Feyt drew a deep breath. "The big one is the one that killed my mum and sis."
The silence around the fire was thick. It lasted until Gairet said, "Hey, Feyt. I am sorry. I didn't mean anything. I was just funning. You know."
"I mean something though." All heads turned to Muroc. He looked around the group solemnly. "Feyt is officially one of us now. He is a full member. He gets his share of the bounty. Any disagreements?" Tauras looked like he wanted to complain, but held his tongue.
Muroc went on. "And that big ugly wolf is his. He gets first shot at it. If anyone else kills it, you bring it to him. It is his by right. Got it? Good," he said as heads around the fire nodded. He tossed a bottle of something to Tauras, who was closest to him. "Here, pass this around. We had a good start to the hunting today. But everyone needs to know, we were lucky. Those things did not know there was anyone after them. Now, they are going to be skittish. We put the fear of God in them." That brought some laughter and agreement.
God? Is he a believer in the One God like my mum and I?I wonder…
Muroc went on, "Tomorrow, we start closing the gap on them again. With luck, we'll hit them good again tomorrow afternoon, worst case, by the day after."
"We better," Aterius said dryly. "Weather looks like it may be changing soon. Feels like a storm is coming. If not by late tomorrow, I'd guess the day after."
"Not sure how you tell, Aterius, but I won't argue. Enjoy the drink, men. Tomorrow we push hard to catch up again." Muroc walked away with Tauras, who had come up to him with another complaint about something.
Gairet laughed at their backs and leaned over to Feyt. "For Tauras, every silver lining has a cloud attached."
"Here, Feyt," Aterius nudged him. "Let's sew up your coat now that your head is mostly held together. This needle has twine. Know how to sew?"
"Yeah. My mum taught me. We did all our own repairs. If I came home with my coat torn up like this, she'd make me stitch it back together to teach me to take better care of my things." Thinking of his mum made his eyes misty briefly. Clearing his throat, he went on, "Not like we could afford to barter for a new one."
"Hmmm. Where I am from, I never learned anything about tracking, or hunting, or just plain living, until I ran away to become an adventurer. My parents were wealthy. When they disinherited me for becoming an adventurer and a bounty hunter, I was forced to learn a great number of things I had to do on my own. Count yourself lucky to have learned your skills so young. I was less fortunate."
I suppose his being a prince explains his fancy clothes back in Caernall. And why he acts different from everyone else. Sophisticated, Feyt pronounced it slowly in his mind. He looked at the black man differently now. Born wealthy, and I bet he can even read. Now, here he is with a band of bounty hunters. I thought my life wasn't fair.
Feyt shrugged out of the parka. He emptied its pockets so he could pull the fabric straight as he sewed. As he did, he found the medallion in the pocket where he had placed it. He had forgotten he had it. It seemed like the horror of his Mum and Serente’s murder had occurred weeks ago, instead of just four days ago. He lifted the necklace up and peered at it. Doing so reminded him of his mother's words. About the wolf and how it had talked. With her dying breath, she said it wanted the medallion. Crazy talk, or... was it really a demon? Feyt examined the round metal more closely, rubbing one face with his thumb.
How could something as dull and plain as this have any value, let alone be something some demon would be searching for? It made no sense. Mum was probably out of her head. He started to drop the medallion back into the bottom of his pack, but he paused. If some wolf demon does want it, I should hide it. Smiling, Feyt slid it into the linings of his parka. Sewn in, it would not be easy to find, or easy for him to lose either. A gust of frigid air reminded him, he had better hurry and finish, or he would freeze out here as he stitched. Thinking that, he shivered, feeling the icy sting of the night air more strongly.
He hurried along at his task, stopping once when he pricked his finger with the needle. He sucked on the throbbing finger as Gairet laughed at him.
"Stick the coat, not the finger. Ha ha." Gairet grinned widely. He shook his own hand back and forth as if he had stuck himself.
Feyt scowled, and then laughed back. Gairet was always cheerful. He was glad to have met him. They are all good mates, he realized as he thought about it. As good as my best friends back in Caernall at least. That made him think of Jolen and Selice, and his other friends too. I miss them. Feyt sighed, I am thankful to have these new friends to be with, now that my family is gone.
Family. The last memories of my mum and sis already feel like they are fading. Feyt felt guilty for this lessening of his grief. I owe them my grief. After all, it is my fault they died. My fault, he reminded himself again.
Feyt awoke to the toe of a heavy boot kicking him.
"Get up, boy," Muroc ordered. "You got five minutes to eat." With that, he was gone.
Ohhh. Feyt rubbed the sleep from his eyes. It was still completely dark. They were not kidding about an early start! He quickly climbed out into the frigid air, pulling his clothing on and snatching his parka. It is going to be cold until I get moving. The past few days, I just got up with the light and counted on catching up with them each day. This is harder, he complained silently.
Muroc sent the twins out ahead, then he stomped back by where Feyt and the others were still chewing their breakfast of cold jerky. He glared at them all with his one eye and growled, "I told Dokara and Seelus the rest of us would follow. Hurry up and grab your packs before they get too far ahead."
Everyone began to snatch up whatever wasn't packed, stuffing it into their packs. Feyt saw everyone had light packs like his, and there were two larger packs of food. Someone will have to carry an extra load, he thought.
Muroc came back by, grabbed one of the heavy packs and thrust it at him saying, "Here. Make yourself useful." He paused, expectantly. Feyt could tell Muroc was daring him to say something. When he just set the pack with his own, Muroc grinned, picked up his own small pack, and moved to the head of their column. Feyt could see Gairet was picking up the other large pack.
Silently Feyt tied his pack on top of the big one and shouldered it with a grunt. Good grief! These men either eat too much or they're planning to be out here till spring! Haven't they ever heard of living off the land?
Muroc started at a brisk pace in the dark pre-morning air. They threaded between the low bushes and widely spaced spruce trees that dotted the landscape here, winding over ridge after ridge. It was not long before Feyt opened his parka to lose some heat. He did not want to get sweaty. That will bring a bone chilling cold later. At this temperature, once you were damp, it took forever to dry out, and the cold would start to seep in. Hypothermia is always a threat out here.
The sun was finally about to clear the horizon to their right when Muroc stopped suddenly in an area thicker with trees. Dokara had appeared out of nowhere. He whispered something to Muroc and was gone again. Muroc slung off his pack and turned around, motioning the others to keep silent. Aterius quickly dropped his pack and the others followed suit as well.
Something is happening. It has to be the ice wolves. Feyt fumbled with his straps and set his large pack on the ground, thankful to feel the weight slide off his shoulders. He found he was trembling from a sudden case of nerves. Man, you would think I was making my first kill all over again, Feyt admonished himself. Buck fever, they call it. He saw Tauras unsling his big crossbow and fit an arrow to it. He realized Tauras had been carrying it cocked, but unloaded. Aterius and Gairet both had javelins they had been using as staffs, but now they brought them to the ready.
Muroc motioned Aterius to the right and Gairet to the left. They disappeared behind the trees to each side. Muroc's sword was out and he signaled Feyt to follow him. As Feyt did, he drew his own long-knife. This is all happening so fast, he thought feeling slightly disjointed from the immediate events. I wish I had Selise's recurved bow. Or even better, I wish she was here herself. She would not miss. He felt a pang at the thought of Selice and how she would be upset and worried that he had sneaked away.
Muroc stopped behind a downed tree. Looking over his heavy shoulders, Feyt could see the ice wolves beyond. They were spread out across an opening in the trees. In spots, the wolves had pawed away the snow in the sparse grass and made beds for the night. Only a couple had already gotten up yet this morning, leaving round bare spots where they had lain all night melting the snow.
Feyt swallowed. There had to be twenty of them. Maybe more! He felt more than just a case of nerves now. A little shiver of fear tickled his back, making his gut knot up. Then, he saw his wolf.
It was bigger than the others were, and it was in the middle of the pack, standing, looking away with its ears up. Does it hear us? He could see the freshly scabbed slash that ran across its right eye. He felt again the guilt.
Mum. Serente. My fault. I was not there. With the guilt came his hatred. The fear went away. I am going to kill this one.
Muroc looked at him and nodded. He nodded back. Muroc whistled once loudly.
At the sound, half the wolves sprang up. Feyt heard Tauras's crossbow twang and one of the wolves in the middle of the clearing went down. Muroc was already charging forward silently, racing for the nearest wolf. It stood with its back to them. Feyt charged forward himself, his long-knife over his head ready to slash down. Across the wolves, he saw Aterius throw his javelin, and heard a yelp. On the far side, Dokara and Seelus's white furred figures were rushing forward as well. He heard their yells. Gairet's javelin flashed as it flew into a wolf to his right.
Muroc's blade descended on the first wolf. Everything else blurred as Feyt focused on his own target. Sprinting forward, a snarling wolf suddenly appeared from his left and he brought his long-knife down hard, stabbing. Yelping it fell and he stumbled over it.
He righted himself and kept running. He saw his wolf was looking straight at him. Its eyes were intelligent and malignant. It curled its lips and snarled. He charged it, his knife back up. Blood ran down his arm unnoticed.
It whirled and leapt away. No! No! It cannot get away! He struggled harder to run faster in the snow, but the crusted snow slowed him, impeding his feet. Suddenly a dark furred body crashed into his side.
He heard and felt his parka tearing as he went down with it. He rolled and thrust with his knife. It slid along the wolf's flank, raking fur and leaving a bloody line. It yelped, but was not hurt badly. Feyt threw his arm up in time to block as it lunged again. The teeth grazed his cheek. He felt its hot breath on his face as his forearm held it back. He plunged his long-knife into it, but it snarled even more fiercely and doubled its efforts to sink its teeth into his throat. Now his knife was stuck. The struggling wolf wrenched it out of his hand.
Feyt grabbed a handful of fur in his now empty knife hand, holding its head back. It was as big as he was and he felt its claws tearing his parka more. It shook its head and tore itself loose from his grasp. Oh, God! Now I'm in trouble. As its snarling jaws lashed at his face again, something flashed across his vision. Suddenly the wolf above him was missing its head. It flopped onto him and he pushed and kicked it away. His face was sticky with its blood.
Sitting up, he saw Muroc grinning at him, his one eye glinting. His sword was dripping fresh blood. "You make good bait, boy!" Then he was gone, charging after the wolves.
Feyt struggled up, staggering. The clearing was mostly empty. He could see the retreating forms of a few wolves. As he watched them loping away, he saw Tauras take aim and loose a last bolt. Lowering his crossbow, Tauras looked around and saw him. He waved and yelled excitedly. Feyt could not tell what he said. He looked around dazedly. There were several wolf bodies strewn about. A couple were thrashing or trying to crawl away. He heard their whines and yelps.
Dokara and Seelus were dispatching the living wolves as they made their way across the opening. Looking down, Feyt saw his long-knife protruding from the wolf at his feet. He reached down, and yanked. It was still stuck. He put his foot on the corpse and pulled harder. It came out suddenly and he staggered again. He stood there staring at it.
Feeling a hand on his shoulder, he looked up. Aterius stood there. "Are you hurt?" He could see the concern in his eyes.
"Hurt? Uh... No." Funny question.
"You sure?" Aterius frowned.
"Yeah. I'm fine."
"Let me see you face." Aterius raised his hand to touch his face.
"Ouch. Watch it!"
"Not hurt, huh? It's shallow. You're going to have a nice scar there though," Aterius grimaced. "We'll wash it up and take a better look in a bit."
Feyt touched his hand to his head where Aterius had been. Ow. That is tender! When did that happen? His hand came away bloody. He looked down at his parka, its front hung torn from his neck to his waist, and the one side had several smaller rips. From the wolf's paws, he supposed. I knew the hunters were getting close to the ice wolves, but I did not know we would catch them so soon. Catch them... My wolf! Feyt looked around quickly.
He did not see any bodies that looked like it had a slashed eye. The cursed thing has gotten away! I missed my chance! How could I let it get away when... when it was my fault it killed them. My fault it got away, too. He felt his anger rising. I should have been faster. I should have thrown my knife. I should have done... something. I cannot go back without killing that monster. Feyt felt sick in his gut from his anguish.
Muroc called from across the clearing. "How many?"
Gairet answered back from the far side, "Eleven. There are at least two blood trails, maybe three. They'll stiffen up in a few hours and we'll catch up with them if we're lucky."
Catch up? "We're going on? We're not letting them go, right?" Feyt could not keep the eagerness out of his voice.
"Let them go? Of course not! We only got half of them. There is still a good size pack to hunt." Aterius was wiping his javelin. "You're keeping score aren't you? You've got two."
"One!" Muroc corrected. "I had to take the head off the second one."
"Hey! Bait gets some credit," Gairet said laughing. "One-and-a-half, then. All in favor?"
Feyt heard several "Ayes" echo across the clearing.
"This isn't a democracy, regardless of Aterius's high ideals," Murac growled, but Aterius only grinned widely. "Go get your packs, the real chase starts now. Now, they know they're being hunted."
Feyt did not see the twins the rest of the day. They ranged out in front, scouting, while the rest of them slogged along behind. Carrying the large pack, Feyt was soon concentrating on just keeping moving. He struggled along placing one foot in front of the other in the thick snow. Before they resumed the chase, Aterius had wrapped a strip of cloth around his head and promised to "sew" it when they made camp. That had stopped the seepage of blood from getting into his eyes as he sweated. He was generating so much heat from carrying the packs that he left his parka wide open to cool down, which worked since most of the buttons were torn off anyway. He was hot enough as he walked along that he was not too upset about the coat. Yet. I will be when it gets cold tonight though, he reminded himself.
Gairet had cut the tails off the eleven wolves they killed and, after flourishing them about for an hour or so, put them into his pack when he grew bored of the game. Taurus kept complaining he had lost five of his crossbow bolts. "I only brought forty. Do you know what those things cost?" he asked a number of times. Finally, Muroc assured him he would get them replaced out of the money the village leaders promised to pay.
Feyt had not known Swornson had agreed to pay the hunters. Something about being paid to do what honor demanded rankled him just a bit. Then it dawned on him. These guys are bounty hunters. I’ve heard of such men, but I never knew anyone who could say they ever met one before. Some of the Freebriers are supposedly bounty hunters. Only, they hunted men for their bounties. That brought a shiver to Feyt's spine. I wonder if Muroc and his band normally hunt men? Maybe it is better I don’t think about that.
Muroc did not push them as hard through the afternoon as he had when they first started this morning. The hunt's success made him talkative for once. "They are hauling their tails fast right now," he said. "We'll give them some space; make them think we're done. If we do not push them hard, they will slow down in another day or so. Then we'll hit them again."
That made Feyt feel much better. I am glad to be among bounty hunters, he decided, however bad they may be; if that is what I need to get my revenge. Suddenly, he could visualize his sister’s, Serente’s, face smiling at him. He shook away the tears that tried to form and pressed on. I am going to kill them, Serente. For you and Mum. You’ll see.
Just before dusk, Dokara came back with two more tails and a crossbow quarrel. He handed the tails to Gairet and the bolt to Tauras. Gairet laughed and began to try to guess which of them should count the two extra kills, but Tauras looked a little sad.
When pushed by the boisterous Gairet, Tauras complained, "I know Muroc. He will not replace what has not been lost. I'd have been better off with a brand new quarrel than an old worn one."
"Let me throw that one away for you, then," Gairet offered.
Taurus, however, became very protective of it, saying, "No. That is all right. I have grown fond of it, you know. I mark each kill on each bolt. See? This one has six kills." He rapidly put it away to keep Gairet from absconding with it.
"Hah. So, you're counting kills too. How many misses though?"
"No one counts misses," Taurus retorted.
"How do you know when you've used it up then? It has to be worn out sometime right?"
Disturbed, Tauras muttered, "Used it up? How do I know? That is not fair, Gairet. Misses don't use them up. Do they?"
"Oh, yeah," Gairet turned his head and winked to everyone else. "Once they're used up, you can't hit anything with them. I bet that one is used up."
Tauras mumbled and complained quietly for a while, but he would not return the "used up" bolt and assured Gairet repeatedly it was still good. He changed the subject when Gairet laughed and asked, "How do you know for sure?" one more time.
That night, when they made camp, Aterius sat Feyt down by a larger fire than normal and took out a needle and some thread. "This is not thread, it is sinew," he insisted. "Thread isn't good in a wound." Feyt sat in front of him with the cut side of his face turned into the firelight.
"Ouch!" Feyt exclaimed, eliciting laughter around the fire. "That hurts!"
"It's going to. Grit your teeth." After that, Feyt bit his lip and other than a few grunts said nothing until Aterius finished the stitching.
Seelus, from across the fire, said, "Feyt-bait. Good job today. You got two. Not bad."
Dokara nodded. "Yeah, not a bad job. Word of advice though, you charged right out into the middle of them. What were you after? That big one in the middle?"
"Yeah. The big one."
That surprised, Dokara. "Really? The big one? Looking for a trophy?"
"No..."
"He's the bait remember," Gairet laughed. "He wanted to feed the big one."
"No." Feyt drew a deep breath. "The big one is the one that killed my mum and sis."
The silence around the fire was thick. It lasted until Gairet said, "Hey, Feyt. I am sorry. I didn't mean anything. I was just funning. You know."
"I mean something though." All heads turned to Muroc. He looked around the group solemnly. "Feyt is officially one of us now. He is a full member. He gets his share of the bounty. Any disagreements?" Tauras looked like he wanted to complain, but held his tongue.
Muroc went on. "And that big ugly wolf is his. He gets first shot at it. If anyone else kills it, you bring it to him. It is his by right. Got it? Good," he said as heads around the fire nodded. He tossed a bottle of something to Tauras, who was closest to him. "Here, pass this around. We had a good start to the hunting today. But everyone needs to know, we were lucky. Those things did not know there was anyone after them. Now, they are going to be skittish. We put the fear of God in them." That brought some laughter and agreement.
God? Is he a believer in the One God like my mum and I?I wonder…
Muroc went on, "Tomorrow, we start closing the gap on them again. With luck, we'll hit them good again tomorrow afternoon, worst case, by the day after."
"We better," Aterius said dryly. "Weather looks like it may be changing soon. Feels like a storm is coming. If not by late tomorrow, I'd guess the day after."
"Not sure how you tell, Aterius, but I won't argue. Enjoy the drink, men. Tomorrow we push hard to catch up again." Muroc walked away with Tauras, who had come up to him with another complaint about something.
Gairet laughed at their backs and leaned over to Feyt. "For Tauras, every silver lining has a cloud attached."
"Here, Feyt," Aterius nudged him. "Let's sew up your coat now that your head is mostly held together. This needle has twine. Know how to sew?"
"Yeah. My mum taught me. We did all our own repairs. If I came home with my coat torn up like this, she'd make me stitch it back together to teach me to take better care of my things." Thinking of his mum made his eyes misty briefly. Clearing his throat, he went on, "Not like we could afford to barter for a new one."
"Hmmm. Where I am from, I never learned anything about tracking, or hunting, or just plain living, until I ran away to become an adventurer. My parents were wealthy. When they disinherited me for becoming an adventurer and a bounty hunter, I was forced to learn a great number of things I had to do on my own. Count yourself lucky to have learned your skills so young. I was less fortunate."
I suppose his being a prince explains his fancy clothes back in Caernall. And why he acts different from everyone else. Sophisticated, Feyt pronounced it slowly in his mind. He looked at the black man differently now. Born wealthy, and I bet he can even read. Now, here he is with a band of bounty hunters. I thought my life wasn't fair.
Feyt shrugged out of the parka. He emptied its pockets so he could pull the fabric straight as he sewed. As he did, he found the medallion in the pocket where he had placed it. He had forgotten he had it. It seemed like the horror of his Mum and Serente’s murder had occurred weeks ago, instead of just four days ago. He lifted the necklace up and peered at it. Doing so reminded him of his mother's words. About the wolf and how it had talked. With her dying breath, she said it wanted the medallion. Crazy talk, or... was it really a demon? Feyt examined the round metal more closely, rubbing one face with his thumb.
How could something as dull and plain as this have any value, let alone be something some demon would be searching for? It made no sense. Mum was probably out of her head. He started to drop the medallion back into the bottom of his pack, but he paused. If some wolf demon does want it, I should hide it. Smiling, Feyt slid it into the linings of his parka. Sewn in, it would not be easy to find, or easy for him to lose either. A gust of frigid air reminded him, he had better hurry and finish, or he would freeze out here as he stitched. Thinking that, he shivered, feeling the icy sting of the night air more strongly.
He hurried along at his task, stopping once when he pricked his finger with the needle. He sucked on the throbbing finger as Gairet laughed at him.
"Stick the coat, not the finger. Ha ha." Gairet grinned widely. He shook his own hand back and forth as if he had stuck himself.
Feyt scowled, and then laughed back. Gairet was always cheerful. He was glad to have met him. They are all good mates, he realized as he thought about it. As good as my best friends back in Caernall at least. That made him think of Jolen and Selice, and his other friends too. I miss them. Feyt sighed, I am thankful to have these new friends to be with, now that my family is gone.
Family. The last memories of my mum and sis already feel like they are fading. Feyt felt guilty for this lessening of his grief. I owe them my grief. After all, it is my fault they died. My fault, he reminded himself again.