by Matt Heppe
“Thank you. I’ll wash up.”
“The cauldrons are hot. Leave the little one for peas.”
“Thank you. I’ll refill it later.” Hadde stood and stretched. Her ribs were sore from being kicked. She looked longingly at the deep tub hanging high on the wall. A long soak would have done wonderfully, but the tub had sprung a leak months ago and there hadn’t been time to repair it.
Hadde grabbed a spare linen shirt and a washrag and knelt by the fire. She stripped off her linen shirt and set to scrubbing off a week’s worth of grime. “This is good. It’s good to be home.” She sighed with pleasure as the heat warmed her body. It had been a cold, frustrating hunt.
“It’s good to have you back. And your timing was perfect.” Enna grimaced as she knelt beside her daughter, and placed a half empty sack on a shelf beside her.
Hadde paused at washing her face. “It’s hurting you?” she asked, her eyes going to her mother’s knee.
“The cold got into it this past week,” Enna replied as she poured a few measures of peas into a pot.
“Are those all the peas we have left?”
“Just this sack.” She brushed a stray lock of graying black hair from her face.
“Not enough—not for the rest of the winter.” Hadde said. An image of the raiders and their skinny horses entered Hadde’s mind. Everyone was desperate. Everyone was hungry. And then she imagined the first raider reeling with an arrow in his back. She shook her head. “Mother?”
“Yes?”
“Remember the day the Kiremi attacked Forest Edge?”
“Of course, how could I not? You were my hero. That vile Kiremi would’ve had me if not for you.”
Hadde stared into the fire without talking. She soaked her washrag and absently ran it down her arm. “Back then, when the first man loosed his arrow at me, I never felt any fear. And the second man…when I killed him I felt nothing at all.” She paused, remembering her arrow's flight as it struck the Kiremi from his horse. The memory was cold, as if she hadn't even been the one who had loosed the arrow.
“But this time it was different,” Hadde continued. “I almost couldn’t shoot him. And when the arrow did hit him, and he turned to face me, he was just a boy.”
Enna pushed the pot of peas further over the fire, and then sat on a low stool by the fireplace. “Before, it was desperation. There was no time to be afraid, to worry about life and death or consequences. Your village and people were threatened, and you did what had to be done.”
“But the village was threatened today. And I love Long Meadow just as much as I loved Forest Edge. I kept waiting and waiting, hoping father and the other hunters would attack. I didn’t want to have to fight.” Hadde toweled off and, kneeling next to the fire, pulled a linen shirt over her head.
“It troubled you because you had time to think. You were only a child then—only a thirteen-year-old apprentice. You’re eight years older now and a full huntress. You know the Way of the Forest. You try to make clean kills to prevent suffering. It’s all part of a cycle. Some suffer so others can live. The men attacking our village today had to be killed so others could live. They suffered pain, but you prevented further pain. You saved us.” Enna reached out and pulled Hadde close to her.
Hadde gave her mother a weak smile. “I wish there didn’t have to be suffering.”
“Helna created a world without suffering. Her brothers ruined it. Now, back to work.” Enna kissed Hadde’s brow, stood, and limped from the fire. “I’m proud of you, Hadde. Belor and Calen too.”
Hadde turned as the door flew open and her father strode into the cottage. Arno was tall and sturdily built, with the black hair and gray eyes of many Landomere folk. Hadde had her father’s hair and eyes, but was small and slender like her mother.
“Ah, there you are, Hadde,” he said, his voice grave. “How are you? How’s your head?”
“Good, Father.”
“She’s fine,” her mother added. “A cut to her scalp. It bled like head injuries do, but looked worse than it was.”
He grunted as he peered at Hadde’s bandage. “So I send you out with young Calen to teach him how to hunt, and you lead a bunch of berserk raiders to us?”
“The village is lucky we happened upon them.”
“I’ll give you that much,” he replied. “I don’t know what they were, but Dromost take them, they were tough. Four arrows to kill a single one! Calen got too brave and was nearly skewered when one of them refused to die.”
“He wasn’t hurt, was he?” Hadde hadn’t seen her apprentice in the midst of the fighting.
“Nah, the boy is quick.”
“Did you see their eyes?” Hadde asked.
“I did. Dromost take me if I knew what they were.”
“Stop uttering that name!” Enna scolded. "Don't anger the gods."
He shrugged. “Did you see any game out there, Hadde?”
She shook her head. “It wasn’t much of a hunt. We were out for a week and didn’t see a single animal. That’s twice this season. The Wasting is getting worse. Far worse.”
Arno prodded the fire. “I think you're right. In thirty years I've not seen it this bad. And all the game taken this year has been thin and mean.”
“And no harvest to speak of,” Enna added. “We won’t make spring unless we—”
“We will now,” Arno said.
“What do you mean?” Hadde asked.
He peered at her for a moment without speaking.
“What is it, Father?"
“Come with me. I want to show you something.” Hadde wanted to object; she was finally getting warm and didn’t relish the idea of going out again. Something in her father’s eyes told her it wasn’t a good idea. “What's going on?” she asked.
“At the stable. Just come with me.”
“Stay warm, Hadde,” Enna urged. “Don’t want you catching—”
“I’ll be warm. Don’t worry.” Hadde wrapped her green cloak around her shoulders, pulled on her boots, and followed her father out the door, all the time wondering at her father's words. A few villagers were out, all armed with bow or spear and moving purposefully. Long Meadow was still turned out for the fight.
She glanced around the village as they walked, happy it was safe. Eight years ago she and her family had arrived in Long Meadow with the other refugees from the Kiremi War. Her last memories of Forest Edge were of burning cottages and her wounded mother sprawled on the ground.
Long Meadow had welcomed them warmly. It was deep in the Great Forest of Landomere, safe from the Kiremi, or so they thought back then. The village had been half deserted, the population cut down by the Wasting. With the help of the Forest Edge refugees they had rebuilt the village, and for a time almost prospered. Neat cottages of stone, log, and thatch were gathered along the western edge of their meadows and farm fields. Great Landomeri oaks surrounded them in every other direction.
But the Wasting was too strong for them. The village was in decline again and many of the cottages stood abandoned with cold hearths and sagging roofs. And now the Kiremi had found them. The Kiremi and the silver-eyes.
“What’s going on, Father?” she asked again.
For several strides he didn’t speak. “Hadde… the elders have decided to slaughter the horses. Not all at once, but one at a time.”
“Of course. It’s a shame, but those Kiremi nags are half dead. I smelled the sores on them before I even caught sight of them.”
“No, Hadde, Not just the Kiremi horses. All of them.”
Hadde halted abruptly and grabbed him by the arm, spinning him around. “What? Not our horses, too? Not Lightfoot.” Her heart sank into her stomach as he looked away. “You wouldn’t.”
“I’ll make sure that Lightfoot is last. Maybe things will improve before we get to—”
“No! It doesn’t make sense.” Blood rushed to her face as she spoke. Her head pounded. “We need the horses for hunting.”
“We aren’t plains people anymore. W
e’re forest people now. There isn’t any more forage for them in the meadows. And we can’t spare the grain. They just aren’t worth the weight of the grain they eat.”
“How can you say that about Lightfoot? I raised her from a foal. She was the last—there've been no more born since her.”
“Stop it, Hadde! Remember your place—you’re a huntress.”
“I know my place.” Anger boiled up in her. Anger at her father’s rebuke, and even more at what they proposed to do.
“Then you should know there’s nothing to be done for it. The horses eat food that we need to survive. Even with the Kiremi horses we might not make summer.”
Hadde looked around in desperation. “I’ll take Lightfoot onto the plains. We’ll take an auroch. She’ll prove herself.”
“You’ll do no such thing!” he shouted. A few villagers turned at the anger in his voice. “The Kiremi own the plains now. You are forbidden from going there. You understand?”
“I’m not a child.”
“Then don’t behave like one!”
Hadde stormed off toward the stable, Arno following behind.
“We never should have given up the plains,” Hadde yelled over her shoulder.
Arno jogged to catch up. “We didn’t give them up. We lost them.” As they entered the stable Arno gestured to a stash of weapons and gear. “Look what the Kiremi and those silver-eyes left us.” Axes, spears, and bows stood propped against the stable wall. Leather aketons and even a few mail coats lay on the ground next to them. Saddlebags and backpacks sat piled nearby. Hadde wasn't interested in what he had to show her. She went straight to Lightfoot.
As Hadde stroked Lightfoot's nose, Belor strode in from outside. He carried three barbed javelins and a decorated Kiremi bow. His face broke into a smile when he spotted her. Despite her anger at her father, she couldn’t help but smile in return.
Belor tossed the raider weapons with the others and embraced her. “I was just coming to see you,” he said. “How’s your head?”
“I’ll be fine. I’m glad you’re safe.”
“The raiders?” Arno asked.
“We think we took the last of them,” Belor said, motioning to the weapons. “The last hunters will be back before full dark.”
“We’re safe for now, then,” Hadde said. “Belor, Father said they’re going to slaughter the horses. Not just the Kiremi, but Lightfoot and Windwalker, all of them.”
“It has to be done,” Arno said.
Belor looked from Arno to Hadde and then past them. After a few moments he nodded his head. “I think your father is right.”
Hadde pushed away from him. “What? How can you say that? You’re the one who’s always saying we’ll survive the Wasting. You’re the one who sees a better future.”
“I do, Hadde. But maybe this is necessary to get us there. The horses have to be sacrificed in order for us to make it to that future.”
“No,” Hadde started, “It doesn’t—”
“Look at this, Hadde,” Arno ordered. He opened a Kiremi saddlebag and pulled out a greasy leather pouch. He dumped the contents onto the ground. “What do you see?”
Hadde knelt and stared at the bits of bone and strips of flesh. She reached out to pick up one of the bones and then recoiled before she touched it.
“You think you’ll find any aurochs on the plains, Hadde? The Kiremi are eating—”
“I see what they’re eating! But look around you, Father. Look at our village. Where are the people?” She motioned toward the open door. “How long until we are all gone? How long until all the homes are empty and all the hearths are cold?”
“We’ll last longer if we slaughter the horses.”
“But we'll die for sure without them! You’re not killing Lightfoot. I’ll take her away.”
“And abandon your people? Is that the Way of the Forest? Is that the way of a huntress?”
She looked away from him. She couldn’t bear the thought of what he was suggesting. It was too awful.
“There’s nothing to be done, Hadde.”
“Then let me take her out once more.” She met her father’s eyes. “We’ll prove our value, and then you won’t kill her.”
“You’ll accomplish nothing.”
Smiling, she said, “You can’t stop me.”
“I know.” His shoulders sagged. “But, Hadde, promise me this. Promise me you’ll stay safe. Promise me you won’t go to the plains.”
“I promise.” She gestured to the half-eaten hand lying in the dirt. “This won’t be my future.”
Chapter Three
The late afternoon sun cast long shadows as Hadde halted Lightfoot near the log where she and Belor had stashed their packs. Her hand drifted to the bowcase by her thigh as she scanned the forest for any sign of danger.
The Great Forest had suddenly become a more ominous place. It wasn’t enough that the forest was dying; now she had to fear the silver-eyes and the Kiremi. A nearby oak wept sap from long cracks in its trunk. Brown leaves rattled on dead branches. Nothing resisted the Wasting.
“There’s no hope, Lightfoot. Everything is dying.”
The words brought her back to Old Gaw’s funeral that morning. At sunrise they had placed the last stone on his cairn. He rested next to his wife and children. And others. There were too many graves. Too many moss-free stones. Who would build the last cairn?
A shadowy movement caught Hadde’s eye and brought her back. She reached for her bow, fearful that her lapse had let the silver-eyes creep up on her. But it was no raider that had caught her attention. It was a deer—a stag! She took a deep breath to calm herself.
It wasn’t just any stag, but a magnificent beast. Tall, well muscled, with a lustrous coat. She couldn’t believe he was real. Lightfoot snorted and pawed the ground.
Hadde drew her bow from its sheath as the stag moved into a clear space between the trees. His rack was huge. She counted twelve points. Forcing herself to move slowly, she nocked an arrow. The stag snorted and put its nose to the ground.
Hadde froze. Lightfoot stood silently under her.
Patience rewards the hunter, she remembered her father’s words. But she couldn’t afford to let the stag get away. It would be a bounty for her village. And it would save Lightfoot by proving how well hunter and horse worked together.
The stag raised its head and stared at Hadde. She froze—her heart pounding out the moments in time. All thought of taking the stag fled her mind as she sat rock-still under the animal’s gaze. The stag knew her, Hadde thought. It knew what she intended. She dared not move—for a moment she didn't even think she could.
The stag sprang forward and dashed off the trail. “Go! On, Lightfoot!” Clods of dirt flew into the air as the horse surged forward. A dead branch shattered as Hadde knocked it aside with her arm. Horse and rider moved as one as they dashed through the forest in pursuit.
Standing in her stirrups, Hadde flexed her legs and let them even out the rough ride. Lightfoot was trained for horse archery and ran with smooth short strides, but all of her training couldn’t make up for the uneven forest floor and the fact she had to avoid trees and logs.
The stag leaped and dodged as it raced through the woods. There were so many obstacles, Hadde thought. Wasting-weakened trees dropped limbs so easily with any gust of wind. She timed the motion of her horse as it jumped a rotten log and let fly with an arrow. It pierced a branch with a thunk.
Hadde drew another arrow to her ear and let loose. But at the very moment she released her thumb the stag leapt aside and the arrow flew harmlessly into the forest.
She would hold her next arrow for a closer shot. One that wouldn’t miss. Branches swiped at her, but she managed to keep her bow low and prevent it from getting snagged. As the vegetation became denser, she realized she must take the stag soon or risk him getting away.
Hadde scowled. The deer should have flagged long ago. He didn’t have Lightfoot’s stamina. The stag drew her deeper and deeper into the forest. Despit
e the best efforts of both horse and rider, they couldn’t close the gap.
Dark shadows spread over the forest floor. Time was short. “Go, Lightfoot, go!” Hadde yelled. Her thighs burned from trying to hold her body steady and her breath rasped from the exertion.
Despite the pain, a fierce smile crossed her face. She would take this stag. Lightfoot would prove herself. The buck jumped over a bush and disappeared from view. Hadde crouched in her saddle in preparation for the jump. But instead of leaping, Lightfoot skidded to a halt and threw Hadde over her head.
Helpless, Hadde closed her eyes and tucked her body in expectation of a bruising landing on the forest floor. With a tremendous splash, she landed in a pool of water. Cold, shocking cold. Gasping, she sucked in a lungful of water.
She fought her way to the surface. Coughing, gagging, she tried to stand and was surprised to find she could. The pool was small and in a few strides she made shallower water. Her lungs burned as she choked up water. Finally she looked up and saw Lightfoot watching reproachfully from the water’s edge.
“Ugh, you could have warned me,” Hadde said between coughs. She saw her bow and arrow floating in the deeper water and waded back to retrieve them. After dragging herself from the water, she glanced around for signs of her quarry, but the stag had disappeared. And the cold was not as bad as she had thought. Or maybe the heat of the ride was still in her.
She frowned. Something was different with the forest here. Something odd. She drew a breath. The forest appeared untouched by the blight of the Wasting. Dark green fern beds interspersed with wildflowers encircled the pond. Beyond the fern, tall trees grew, their leaves still green. How could this be? The Wasting was merciless.
Taking Lightfoot’s reins, Hadde walked to the water’s edge. A brilliant cascade of water tumbled down a rock wall into the pond. Moss grew thick on the round stones. From between them sprang a multitude of tiny white flowers. Everbloom—they were usually so rare. Their scent always brought a smile to her face when she came upon them. Hadde had lived in the forest her entire life and remembered seeing large patches of beauty before the Wasting had worsened. From time to time she still came across pockets of still-vibrant forest. And while each year she saw fewer of these sights, it made the remaining ones more precious.
