Part 47 (2/2)

Hunger followed the woman's trail, sometimes loping on two limbs, sometimes staying close to the ground on all fours. He followed her scent up over the crest of the hill and back down into the valley on the other side and to the banks of a marshy river.

She was smart, hoping he'd lose her scent on the water. But there were some parts of a person's scent that did not sink into the depths. Some of it hung in the very air. Oh, water made it harder to track. Sometimes it flowed away at great speeds erasing all traces of a trail, but not this sluggish river, this half-marsh. He got down on all fours and strode out into the water and smelled her on the surface. The scent was faint, but it was thick enough to follow.

Then he lost it. She had fallen or dived under and swam. He searched in widening circles around the area where he last smelled her, and in a short time found the scent again and followed it down river about fifty yard to the far bank.

Up on the land, her scent grew fresher and stronger with every step. He ran into the trees. Here, the dampness and the cover from the sun kept her trail together and made it as easy to follow her as a slow parade of cattle.

Her scent grew stronger and stronger until he broke from the woods upon a small farmstead.

Hunger paused to survey the area. A small herd of brown and white milk goats grazed in a pasture beyond a house, but there were no farmers out and about this morning. The female's scent was strong here. Exceedingly strong.

She was here.

He followed the female's trail to the barn and found the doors standing open. He strode inside and stopped. He smelled horse and hay and harness. He smelled her as if she were standing in front of him.

He had her, had her trapped in this barn like a mouse in a box.

Hunger closed the doors to the tidy barn behind him. There was one stall and a loft of hay. He looked in the stall and found it empty, which meant she'd buried herself in the hay in the loft.

He leapt to the loft and landed in a crouch, waiting for her to try to run by him. He waited. Nothing. He kicked through the hay, reached in to the deepest parts. But she wasn't there. He looked around, but there was nowhere else to hide!

Hunger cursed and walked back out and circled the barn. Only then did he realize what had happened. He breathed in deeply to smell it for sure. There had been a horse here-she'd taken the horse.

He walked out of the barn and followed the scent for a short distance. Yes, she'd taken the horse. He looked at the prints of the hooves. She had kicked it onto a trot. She was not galloping. Not that woman. She had shown herself too smart for that.

Hunger almost chased after her, but he stopped himself. He could match the speed of a horse, but not for long. He would fail along the way if he didn't replenish his Fire. He needed food.

He turned back to the farmhouse and pushed the door open, but he only found a table and an orange cat hiding under a chair, looking up at him in fear. An old couple must live here. He saw one pair of large, muddy, wooden clogs next to the door. Or maybe it wasn't a couple. Maybe it was just an old man and his cat. Either way, the house was empty.

He left the house and cat and went to the pasture. The brown and white goats scattered at his coming, but they were no match for his speed. He caught one whose horns had split into four curls, shucked it, and devoured both its Fire and soul. It was not enough, and he chased down three more, leaving their bodies lying on the chewed gra.s.s.

When he'd drained the last one and felt satisfied, he stood. The power surged in his limbs. The scent of the horse mixed with the female still lay thick along the road. The sun and wind would disperse it, but not before he caught her.

37.

Sleth TALEN HELD PERFECTLY still. The seconds stretched into minutes. Then the Shoka on the pine in front of them turned his attention back to the road.

Talen didn't dare take another step. He didn't even dare switch his bow to the other hand. Movement drew the eye. And even though it was still mostly dark, if he moved too quickly the two across the way would see him. He knew that because he could see them even now.

The problem was he and Legs had to move. Right now there was still enough darkness in the woods to obscure them. However, in a half an hour the morning would lighten most of the shadows and they would be standing there plain as day for anyone who just happened to take a gander in their direction.

In slow tiny increments, Talen reached back with one bare foot to feel the forest floor for a likely spot. He moved a twig aside with his toe and transferred his weight. He turned his head downwards so his voice wouldn't carry and whispered one word for every few heartbeats.

”Feel. Your. Way. Back,” he whispered.

Legs reached back with his bare foot, found a spot. They moved in miniscule increments. Stopping, moving an inch, stopping, moving again.

A squirrel chittered off to the right. Sweat ran down Talen's back. A mosquito buzzed him. It landed on his cheek, a large smudge at the bottom of his vision. He moved an inch. Stopped. Move another. He felt the mosquito's pin p.r.i.c.k. He continued to move, pushed aside some dry leaves with his toe. Paused. Moved. The thief finished with his face and droned away with its stolen treasure.

This was taking too long. The morning light was coming too fast. He could see the two Shoka on the other side of the road now well enough to make out the colored bands on their arrows.

The hoofbeats of a galloping horse sounded along the road. The Shoka stood and moved forward to the edge of the tree line and looked up the road.

”Slowly,” Talen said. He and Legs took another step.

A moment later a rider on a tan horse could be seen through the trunks of the trees. The three Shoka stepped out onto the road, bows and spears pointed at the horseman, another Shoka, wearing the green patterned sash of that clan. The man brought his horse to halt.

”Hoy,” the man said.

The three Shoka must have recognized him, for they lowered their weapons.

”Keep moving,” Talen whispered to Legs. They took another slow step, then another.

”Spread the word,” the horseman said. ”The hatchlings have been spotted. Prunes saw them with his own eyes.”

”Where?” One of the Shoka asked.

The tan horse pulled on the reins, trying to get its head. ”At the farm of Hogan the Koramite.”

Wonderful, Talen thought. Just wonderful. He knew Prunes. The man had been one of those the Bailiff had brought with him to search the farm. Which meant the Bailiff must have posted a watch.

They should have thought of that. He and Nettle should have scouted the woods for those Fir-Noy armsmen if for nothing else.

There was an enormous beech with a trunk a few feet in diameter only a few paces away. If they could get behind that, it would hide them. ”To your left,” Talen whispered.

”There's worse,” the rider said. ”That monster from Whitecliff was with them. It killed Gid. Twisted him up like a rag. The Bailiff's calling a full muster. Everyone in the district will be standing guard over their families or going to Stag Home.”

”There's another nine men down the trail,” one of the Shoka said. ”We've got dogs.”

”Bring them or keep them with you. We've already sent out for five teams of hounds to follow trails in and out of that place. Now, if you please, I'm off to Lord s.h.i.+m.” Then he urged his mount into a gallop and thundered away.

Talen and Legs took another step towards the beech. They only had one more step to go.

The Shoka with the spear turned and sprinted back down the path he'd first arrived on, probably to spread the word to those nine other men.

Talen took the last step back then slid behind the fat beech and pulled Legs with him. He pressed his back flat up against the trunk and held his breath, s.h.i.+fting to make sure both of them were completely behind the tree. Legs stood up against him, his hair bus.h.i.+ng Talen's chin.

Dogs, Talen thought. Not only did he have to escape with a blind boy in tow, but now he had dogs to deal with. Before noon today everyone in his Talen's family would be famous. And the Bailiff wouldn't give them an easy pa.s.s this time. Talen and his family had done more than make a fool of him. They'd stabbed him in the back. No, there would be no easy pa.s.s. He'd come with those ice cold eyes, and there would be no deliverance.

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