“I can help?” I offered tentatively, sure I already knew the answer.
“I need you to walk into town with your mother again, and then you have your normal watch out here.” He seemed to become aware of the churlish tone of his son’s silence. “Michael, the same goes for you. You’ll have your watch, and then I’d like you to walk your mother home.”
I made one more attempt. “You’re sure you don’t need either of our help?”
“No.” As though that settled the matter, Father moved on. “We’ve an extra crossbow. It needs some fixing, but that’ll be both of yours to share as you do your watches from now on. I’ll work on it, and then the two of you can shoot it properly this evening.”
I blinked in surprise, and then grinned with delight at this piece of news. With Michael going to the city in a few months the crossbow would be mine by default, and I didn’t mind if it was old so long as it worked. When Father saw my face brighten his stern expression relaxed into a benevolent smile. There was a silver-lining to Michael’s eagerness to be rid of us after all, it seemed.
Plumes of smoke rose from Glenn’s land as he burned the bodies of the five cows. Though the wind blew the smell away from us I still caught the faintest scent of charred beef and whatever kindling he had used. Glenn would have begun preparation for the pyre as soon as father left him. We burned kills made by gryphons so the ill luck didn’t stay or attract more of the same. We did something similar when a life was lost to sickness or unfortunate accidents. If a person was accused of a particularly violent crime and found guilty they would often face the same fate, though that had not happened since I’d been alive. I was glad of that; it sounded brutal.
Father didn’t indulge in idle chitchat and spent much of his time walking the perimeter of our field. He found gryphon tracks on the portion of our land closest to Glenn’s, but he told me they headed deep into the woods. When he had finished his scouting, he asked if I would mind staying for the rest of Michael’s shift. At my hesitant agreement, he told us he would return with Hale, and set off on Tess at a good speed.
Michael made it clear he had no intention of talking to me. Keeping his shoulder propped between us, he read the same book he had been at all week. For myself, I pulled the gryphon carving back out. The task of etching the details of the wings into the wood was normally soothing. Still, I found I couldn’t relax. I had questions about the gryphon attack. I normally would have bounced them off my brother, and instead they pinged about inside my skull. By the time Michael’s shift had ended, I had a headache, and Father had returned with Hale in tow on a lead rope. When he was certain I would be fine on my own, they both left.
Although I spent a good portion of my time after they had gone jumping at the everyday noises of the field, the afternoon passed without any further incidents. The younger sheep giddily leapt about, and the older ones tested my patience with their gabbing.
Towards the evening a herd of deer poked their heads out of the woods. They saw the flock and kept their distance, but stayed long enough for me to appreciate how different they were from my wooly charges—how much more still they were.
Once Brooks got to his feet, nose to the air, but as my heart came to pound in my throat he lay back down. Clouds sped across the sky, pushed by the strong winds, coming down from the mountains. I kept myself wrapped tightly in my blanket, which Father had brought along with Hale.
When my shift ended, I drove the flock home and into the barn rather than the paddock. Both Tess and Cherub flicked their ears at me and snorted in clear irritation at this intrusion.
“Not my fault,” I told them over the din of the sheep, who were no more a fan of these cramped quarters than the horse and ponies.
When the animals were taken care of, Father, Michael and I practiced shooting with the crossbows until it was too dark to continue. Father had done all the fixing needed for the spare crossbow, and it shot smoothly, though I would need a great deal more practice before I was any kind of marksman.
Dinner that evening was like the night before in many ways, but there was a distinct lack of good humor. Michael snubbed me, and Father was short with Michael. Mother spoke to Father in her most reproachful tones, not knowing Michael had been a bear all day. I did my best to stay out of the crosshairs, and was relieved to finally retire to my own bedroom.
The next morning my eyes were already open and staring at the ceiling as the first threads of daylight creeped through my curtains. The rain had come a few hours after midnight, complete with thunder and lightning that had brought me to anxious wakefulness well before it was time to get out of bed. For several hours, the storm had gone strong, but at some point I managed to sink back into a fitful sleep.
As I rubbed the back of my hand across my gritty eyes, my head pounded dully with the same ache from yesterday that had never fully gone away. With some difficulty, I dragged myself out of bed. Father hadn’t called for us to get up yet, but since I was already awake, I figured I would do well to surprise him by already being up, and ready.
As I went to wash, a groan slipped from my lips at the realization that I had not refilled my basin the night before. Below the basin was a wooden bucket with a handle, and I bent stiffly to retrieve it. When my woolen cloak was securely wrapped around the thin material of my night dress, I shoved my feet into my boots without bothering with stockings.
I crept down the hallway so as not to wake my brother, and slipped past the kitchen. Therein the murmurs of mother and father, and the sizzle of something frying over the fire could be heard. I caught a whiff of bacon and my stomach growled. With new haste, I made my way out the front door.
The pump at the gate still held the dishes from last night, and I shifted them aside to make room for my bucket. The cold water droplets that flicked onto my skin as I filled the container made me wince.
Idly, I looked around the yard as the bucket filled; it felt strangely foreign in the weak light of the morning. The grass glistened, and the trees dripped steadily with the last night’s rain. A wispy mist threaded through the trees and bushes, cutting some parts in half and obscuring others entirely. Through the haze, in the direction of the barn, my eyes caught on a sight that made my heart stall. A few feet inside the trees was the unmistakable creamy white wool of a sheep, and I recognized the sound of hooves crunching through fallen leaves. A strangled gasp escaped my lips, and the fright that had run through me eased back only slightly as my brain registered that the sheep was on its feet, and seemed to be grazing. Even so, the world blurred as, bucket forgotten, I splashed through the muddy puddles of the yard as I ran directly for the kitchen.
“Father, there’s a sheep loose!” I was speaking before the door was completely open.
Father was in motion only a fraction of a second after the sentence left my mouth. He set down the piece of bacon that had been headed for his mouth, and rose to his feet.
I saw him cast a look at Mother who widened her eyes and jerked her head, removing the skillet from the fire. He nodded curtly in response and turned to me. “Taryn, wake your brother. I’ll go have a look and see what’s happened.”
“You shouldn’t go alone!” I burst out. “What if it’s the gryphon?”
Mother moved to close the door behind me and rest a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll go with him. More likely than not a lesser gryphon nosed the door open to get out of the storm, one of the sheep got spooked, and now they’ve all gone wandering. There’s no beast that goes hunting in the torrents we had last night. We’ll round them up, and the sooner you get Michael out of bed, the sooner you can help.”
As Mother spoke, Father disappeared. When he returned he had donned a thick cloak, his hat, and his boots. He also had his crossbow slung over his shoulder.
“Let’s go, Wynn.” Mother grabbed her own cloak and shoes. Father nodded at me. “Good eye, Taryn.”
My mouth parted slightly and then I nodded in return and spun to go and get Michael as they exited the house.
“Michael!” I banged on his door. “The sheep got loose last night. It’s time to get up and get to work!”
Michael flung the door open and glared at me. “There’s no need to shout.” He stopped and squinted at me. In the span of a moment he took in my pale face, disheveled hair—which I reached to smooth at his gaze—and the mud splatters on my nightgown. He covered a grin with his hand. “Taryn, it’s not the gryphon. It rained like an ocean was being dumped on us last night.”
I swatted at him. “Shut up. You don’t know.”
“Whatever.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m nearly ready, let me get my harness and my boots.”
With a start, I realized Michael was fully dressed and his hair was already braided back. I glanced down at myself and grimaced.
“I’ll be just a second. Don’t leave without me!”
Back outside I ran, to grab the bucket, which was overfull. It sloshed down my front as I lifted it. Hissing every swear I knew, I tipped the water out onto the grass to make it more manageable, and lugged the thing back inside. I dressed, my morning wash forgone, tossing my soaked night clothes into a balled-up heap in the corner of the room. By the time I had finished Michael was in the kitchen, cloaked, and feet shod in muddy boots—when had he had a chance to go outside to get water and wash up?
“Are you ready?” he asked, smiling smugly and crunching a piece of bacon.
I snatched the piece of bacon from his loose fingers, and bit it savagely. “Let’s go.”
We trudged quickly across the sopping wet yard towards the barn, our crooks made sucking noises as they sunk in and pulled out of the muck. At least the gods had seen fit to give us one blessing. There were no lesser gryphons prowling about. There had been several flocks over at Glenn’s yesterday, attracted by the carcasses. It was possible they were staying near to him in hopes of more. I grimaced at that thought—poor Glenn, having that reminder. However, at least that probably meant no new kill had drawn them this way.
The lone sheep I had seen before was nowhere in sight, and I assumed Father wrangled it on the way out. As we neared the barn, a dog came out to meet us, tongue lulling. It was Nag, Brooks’s mother, discernable from her mate Benjie only by her smaller stature. Unlike Brooks, both Nag’s and Benjie’s fur were shot through with the gray of age. Nag’s eyes were also starting to show the blue that meant she was losing the sharpness of her sight. When she reached us, I knelt to stroke her face and coo to her.
“Hello pretty girl. What have we found, sweetling?” Nag wagged her tail and tried to lick my face, but I pulled back in time to spare myself the washing. “Come on, show me Mother.”
Nag’s ears pricked forward and she set off at a trot back towards the barn. Therein Mother was finishing the filling of a trough, which she had dragged towards the center of the open space. A handful of sheep were already digging into the food greedily, and the whole place smelled of wet wool. If my count was right, it seemed twelve were still missing. I looked at Mother quizzically.
“Half of them were already here when we got to the barn,” she explained, as she slung the bag of feed back onto its high shelf on the wall, brow flecked with sweat from the exertion. “Most of the other half were milling around right outside. You shut the gate last night, right?” At my emphatic nod she sighed, and rubbed her neck. “The storm must have pulled it, because it was standing wide open. Your father, Benjie, and Brooks have gone to fetch the rest. There were a couple towards the back of the paddock, and we’ve left those for now, but there’s still nine unaccounted for.”
Michael and I edged around the sheep, towards the stalls that held our ponies. Hale whickered at me and I smoothed her forelock out of her soft eyes.
“I know, it’s been a busy couple of days for you,” I murmured as I led her out of the stall.
She glared at sheep as I maneuvered her around them. Halfway through she paused as one blatted at her and I thought for a moment she might snap at the dunderheaded creature, but at the sound of Cherub jingling behind her she shook herself and kept moving.
“Which direction did Father head?” Michael asked, as he checked Cherub’s bridle, making sure it was secure.
“He went towards the fields. Usually when they get loose they head in that general direction. You know these silly things only have food on their minds. One of you can follow him and one of you can check the route towards town.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but Michael was quicker. “I’ll take the town side,” he said before mounting and galloping ahead of me out the barn door.
I didn’t mind heading in the same direction as Father—in fact I thought it was a fair bit stupid to go searching for the sheep towards town when, likely they had behaved as Mother and Father guessed. I’d probably reach Father as he was driving the rogue sheep home. I climbed onto Hale’s back at the barn’s wide doors, eagerly anticipating my brother coming home long after Father and I had finished. I’d be sitting by the fire drinking hot tea, and he’d come trudging in, cold and maybe wet from the drizzle that seemed to want to start again. I allowed myself a mean smile.
“Is he all right?” Mother’s words pulled my attention back down to her. “Ever since our fight he has been so distant. I thought our news would make things better but…” Her shoulders slumped.
I winced. “That might have been me. He and I got into a squabble out in the field, after I left you yesterday.”
“What about?”
I looked away, not liking how she was frowning at me, as though I was at fault. I almost ratted him out about Master Noland. They had a right to know he was sneaking around, after all. In the end though, I settled with the core of my grievance. “He just acts so stuck up sometimes!”
She tilted her head, right hand absently stroking Nag’s soft ears. “Even towards you?”
“He didn’t use to,” I spoke quietly, still avoiding eye contact, “but these days, yeah, even towards me.”
Mother didn’t speak for a minute, deep in thought, and I began to feel antsy, shifting in my saddle. Finally, she gestured towards the door. “I’m sorry, this has been troubling me as well. I’ll find an answer soon, I promise you. Go and help your father.”
“You don’t need to have an answer Mother.” I leaned over in my saddle to kiss her on the cheek. “What I need to do is whoop him in a fight, like I did when we were kids. If you recall, I’m very good at beating the attitude out of my dear brother.” I kicked my heels in and Hale lurched forward.
“Do not fight your brother!” Mother called after me, her voice a mixture of amusement and warning. “I mean it! You’re too old, someone will get hurt.”
I waved at her without looking back, guiding Hale towards the road. As I turned her right, heading towards the field, I kept my eyes peeled for the familiar dirty-white of sheep. The brush on either side of the road was a few feet back, and for the most part had been cultivated by generations of farmers to consist of thick hedges that would keep all but the most determined beast on the path—or off it. Still, there were places where a sheep might slip through to frolic in the shadowy woods. I wished Nag was still spry enough to come with me. She was a veteran at the retrieval of wayward sheep and her nose was better than my eyes.
The morning was overcast and the rain did in fact insist on continuing, softly but steadily. I found myself wishing that I had brought my broad-brimmed, oiled hat, and that I had my oiled cloak to put over the wool I was wearing. Sure, I was warm, but I would soon be soaked and it was doubtful that my clothes would be dry by the time I had to go out again this afternoon. They certainly wouldn’t be if I intended to take Mother to town.
I was more than halfway to the field and there were no sheep in sight, and no Father either. There was, however, water dripping down my leggings and into my boots. Curling my toes rewarded me with a squelching noise. I whined deep in my throat and wiped the rain out of my eyes.
“Taryn.” I nearly fell out of my saddle as a shadow moved from the woods. It was Father, I realized, rela
xing enough to soothe Hale, whom I had startled. He had a hat, I thought sullenly. “Where’s your brother?”
“He went towards town, just in case,” I stuttered. “Where are Tess, and the dogs?” I looked up and down the road. “The sheep?”
Father smiled grimly, stepping over a lower portion of the hedge to join me on the road. “They’re in the field. Brooks and Benjie are keeping them tight, and Tess is tethered. I wanted to be sure I didn’t miss anything back in these trees. I thought I saw something on my way out, and we’re still missing one. You didn’t see one on your way here?”
“No, I’m sorry. I haven’t seen any. I was actually starting to get worried.”
“Don’t be. This was not a gryphon. This is gods all cursed bad luck, but that’s all it is. Still, thanks to you we were lucky enough to have an early start.”
“But the hunt.” I said lamely.
Father smiled honestly then. “The hunt won’t suffer too much with my absence, and they’ll have to pass us to start it so I can tell them I won’t be there, and warn them to look out for our lost sheep. Come on, help me drive the sheep home. Hopefully your brother will have returned with the last one.”
Getting back to the sheep and then getting the sheep to cooperate could have been described as grueling at best. We stopped to speak with the hunting party as they made their way to our field—a task which was lengthened as Father was forced to assure Glenn twice over that this was not another gryphon attack. However, despite all of this, Michael had not returned by the time we came home. Father and I got the sheep into the barn, where Mother and Nag had also wrangled the ones from the paddock, and then we joined her inside the house. The bacon from dawn had gone cold, but when we came in, soggy and dispirited she began to fry up the pieces that hadn’t had a chance to cook. We shucked our wet clothes to hang by the fire in the family room which she had stoked high, and ate the cold bacon while we waited.
Of Gryphons and Other Monsters (Taryn's Journey Book 1) Page 8
