The Forest and the Farm

by Vance Huxley

  “If we take help, a youth, we can remove dead branches and grass to clear a field of fire if need be. If we don’t hunt or go into the valley, that won’t disturb anything before the rest arrive.” Youths raised hands, eager to be at it, and the Hunters chose one.

  Mikkel sighed in mock resignation. “We’ll need to set off early as well, so we can get up the ridges before the rest arrive.” Canitre and the other Hunters nodded agreement and smiled with no sympathy at all.

  “We’d best push on to get close and settle down for the night. Then those three and the ridge Hunters can be off at the crack of dawn.” Several other Hunters agreed with Billi and the whole party moved off as fast as possible. The whole group kept going until full dark to get within about a candle-mark, then made camp.

  Billi heard the advance parties move off the next morning. While it might have been the crack of dawn, it must have been a very small crack and Hektor or someone must have looked hard to spot it. Billi didn’t have much longer in his furs, and neither did any of the rest because despite the grim necessity of the hunt everyone felt excited. There had never been a hunt like this, not from Trail’s End.

  * * *

  The tracks of the three men led the rest of them to a glade, just inside the mouth of the fourth valley. A huge oak, slightly off-centre in the valley bottom, created a wide open space by stifling competition with its spread of branches and roots. There were another four large spreading trees nearby which extended the clear area, and the three young men were busy clearing old creepers and long dead grass as the party arrived. They couldn’t cut trees of course, but threw all the dead wood to the sides to steer running prey back to the centre.

  The ponies were securely tethered behind the oak, with both hobbles and a rope to the tree. The wide swathe of open grass would be an extra deterrent for the Wild hunters. “We could rope ye to the tree, Billi?” Eddmune nodded at the oak. “We brought plenty for making travois and strapping down the loads. Put a rope right round the trunk and it’ll be easier for you to turn.”

  Afterwards Billi realised, probably for the first time ever, he didn’t even wonder if it was some sort of a slur on his lack of a leg. Eddmune had a practical solution, because Billi really did have trouble turning quickly. A rope around his waist, and loosely around the tree, would help keep his balance. “Good idea, Eddmune.”

  “You could have done with one at the bearr dancing Billi.” Nortan started grinning.

  “To rope the Dancer?” Tempert started laughing now. “She seemed to be a bit slippery, Billi?”

  Nortan joined the laughter. “Maybe you should have asked Rabbit to catch hold of her nose.”

  “Wrong prey today, you pair. Come on.” Canitre rescued Billi though everyone had big smiles now and the tension that had been creeping in had gone.

  “Just remember to come back and untie me?” That kept the smiles going, because Billi had his knives of course.

  “Just remember that any plump rumps wearing trews aren’t prey, Billi.” Canitre pointed at Eddmune, and the Hunter waggled the rump in question.

  “Smoke!” Everyone stopped joking when Cynel called out. The ridge Hunters had lit a fire to say they were in position. The Hounds were already strung across the valley entrance, eager and alert, and the Hunters and youths spread out to join them.

  “Tempert?” The youth came closer to Billi. “I’m pleased it’s you, because we’ll need a cool head here. Not someone looking to be blooded.” Tempert smiled. “I mean it, because you’ve got to know when to hold back.” Billi gestured to Rabbit. “You take your cues from Rabbit, because he’s done this before. He’ll know if something needs another shaft.” Billi tapped his head. “Rabbit will let me know, so don’t get between me and a wounded animal. Stay just back from me to leave my view clear, and let Rabbit grab them. Then finish them quickly.”

  “Will Rabbit catch hold of them all?”

  “No, but you’ll know if the animal is too badly wounded to be a problem. He’ll be busy slowing up something more lively, either for you or me.” Billi smiled. “He might even finish a couple himself, the smaller ones.”

  “All right Billi.” Tempert grinned. “I don’t fancy one of your arrows in my rump either.” He hefted the spear and moved out to one side and back a little, with Rabbit in close attendance.

  Canitre spoke to them all. “Now we’ve seen the place, and can see what Billi meant about the open spaces under the big trees. That means with eleven bows we can take almost everything as we move up the valley.”

  “Not mothers with young.” Raban fixed a stern gaze on the young Hunters. “Then the young would die, slowly of starvation or because they hadn’t the knowledge to survive alone. That would break the Law.” The younger Hunters nodded agreement, this wasn’t the time to be careless.

  “But we take the rest.” Eddmune looked over the youths with spears. “You’ll have to be quick and finish anything that drops because we’ll be busy sticking an arrow in something else. The Hounds will help, but they’ll also be watching their Hunter and flushing game from cover.” He gestured at Billi. “Remember, if anything looks too big and isn’t wounded badly enough, leave it for Billi.”

  “Spread out into a line, and get set.” Canitre watched both ways until everyone lined up, then the Hunters and Hounds set off as one with the youths only a moment behind. Everyone including the Hounds struck up a cacophony of shouts and whistles, howls and barking, and the line swept off up the valley.

  The hunt turned into sheer bedlam again, but even louder than last time and Billi actually appreciated being stood back. That played to his strengths, a succession of clean targets he could hit in the side of the ribcage as they tried to run past. He soon found himself busy, using the rope to swing quickly from side to side. Some unwounded animals still made it, finding a route that didn’t give Billi a clean chance or dashing through as he aimed at another. Any animals trailing blood or limping were his priority even if something bigger escaped. The sharp call in the song telling Billi when Rabbit spotted the wounded made that easier.

  The smaller deer and sows, smaller hunters and wolves, and the younger animals of all breeds didn’t give much trouble. Those were already dying if a shaft had struck true, or only needed one shaft from Billi if they weren’t already mortally wounded. Rabbit could even finish a few of them unaided, as could Tempert. The problems were the Stags or the old Boars, a big male lion, and adult moose, buffalo and elk, because even with a shaft in their lungs they would run. Such animals could run for hours, sometimes, especially the Boars; they always clung to life with a fierce, stubborn tenacity. Even with two or sometimes three shafts in those, Billi would try for another to avoid the hours of tracking.

  Billi’s extra shafts didn’t drop them all, but then Rabbit leap forward, snarling and threatening. As the prey lunged and feinted to get round him their life drained into the snow, then when they went down Tempert would move in with the spear. Where possible Billi put extra shafts into the largest as they hesitated, to make sure they went down quicker. Only three struggled on past, avoiding Hound and spear, and all of those left a thick blood trail.

  Ahead a confused mixture of calls of either encouragement or warning drew away as the Hunters pushed forwards. Though the number and urgency of the shouts didn’t die away at the end as some game that had been driven before them finally made a break for freedom. No clear howl to signal the end this time, because the ponies could carry everything they killed. Instead the sounds became less urgent, then began to come back down the valley towards Billi. The occasional exclamation now would be where some wounded creature turned out livelier than expected. Some of the larger animals took this chance to make their break.

  “Back Tempert, no!” Too late, the Stag had gone down, but from a stumble not an arrow and Tempert leapt in with the spear poised. “Earth, help, Billi!” The animal rolled and twisted and as Tempert leapt back from the thrashing antlers a kick put the youth down. Billi put a shaft into the Stag’s
ribs that slowed it up.

  Rabbit dashed in, snarling and lunging. “Crawl clear, quick!” Tempert scrambled away one-legged, but kept his spear. “How are you?” Billi put another arrow in the Stag’s ribs as Rabbit darted in and out to keep the beast occupied

  Tempert stood, pale-faced and favouring his leg. “It hurts, but I can stand.” He straightened. “I can still use the spear, Billi.” Billi put another arrow through the Stag’s ribs as it staggered to its feet, head down but still full of fight.

  “Rabbit will watch. When ‘tis weak enough he’ll lunge and hold, so be ready.” Billi turned away to take down a Boar already carrying three arrows, then a smaller deer hobbling on three legs. A snarl and a quick thrashing and when Billi glanced over Tempert and Rabbit had made sure this time. A last unwounded monster Buffalo bull smashed a way through the bushes and ran for his life and Billi paused, listening. The sound of dying animals faded as the line of spears swept back down the valley and stilled them one by one.

  Billi freed himself and went to help Tempert make sure of those definitely down but perhaps hanging on to a last breath. The youth gestured at his leg. “My own fault, Billi. I was too keen.” Tempert couldn’t keep his smile back, even through the pain of his leg. “I didn’t want a Great-Stag to get away. I reckon I might have a hoof-mark on there for life, but better than an antler.”

  Billi looked over at the animal in question. “I think you’re right about that being a Great-Stag.” He glanced at Tempert’s leg. “You’re lucky that’s not broken.”

  “Hunter’s luck? I hope.” Because Tempert wasn’t a Hunter yet but he’d been on a Winter Hunt twice now so maybe the Wild would notice and would send a Hound.

  Four of the Hunters and their Hounds, and two youths leading ponies, went off to follow the wounded animals. “Come on everyone. Take a pony and a rope, and pull everything to the clearing up here by the stream. Quickly before we all stiffen up.” Canitre limped into view. “A few of us won’t be much good for that, though I can skin and joint without moving about.”

  “Nortan can stand guard with a bow if we find him something to sit on.” Cynel pointed back into the valley. “He said his leg is broken, and Eddmune is staying with him because his arm is badly hurt.”

  “Did everyone make it?” Tempert looked around those he could see.

  “Yes, but Streak will be on three legs going home because he pulled the bull back. ‘Twas wounded but Eddmune slipped on the ice going to finish it. The first strike got a horn into his arm and the second attempt near broke Streak’s leg I reckon, but then Grantel got a spear into it.” Cynel grimaced. “If Eddmune and Streak had been Hunting alone, the Wild might have taken them.”

  All those who could manage took ponies to drag the prey to the water’s edge, where Canitre for one set into skinning. Billi and Tempert used a pony to drag the Great-Stag to join him and Tempert looked at the game animals already collected. “These are all in good condition Billi. Nothing sick or weak.”

  Billi grinned at Tempert and gestured to a dappled hunter being towed out of the undergrowth. “Not prime condition because it is winter but you are right, they’ve got plenty of meat on them. Those, predators and scavengers, really are in prime condition. They’ve been pulling down anything that faltered.”

  “The boars are in lovely condition.” Canitre gestured towards one. “They’ve probably been feeding from the remains of kills.”

  “What about horns and fangs, claws, the usual trophies?”

  “We take trophies for the youths that have been blooded, and anything truly exceptional, but leave the rest.” Farimer grinned at the young Hunters. “Fill your pockets with claws and teeth, because the travois are for meat and the best hides and pelts.”

  “I’ll carry my antlers.” Tempert laughed. “I might wish I’d killed something smaller.” He took the rope off the Stag and they went back for more victims. Already a few birds circled up high, and other scavengers would be taking note. As the collection grew, the first victims and Hunters from the hillside began to arrive and there had been lucky escapes up there as well.

  Some were very near escapes. Billi saw a very pale and shaken Hektor staggering down the slope carrying his spear and a broken bow, with Dapple limping close behind. Then he saw why as the young man moved and his heavy clothing gaped open, almost from one shoulder to the opposite hip. Four big claws had cut through the leather and had marked his skin here and there enough to bleed, but not heavily. Dapple sported a long gash down one flank and across his haunch, a deep one, still weeping blood.

  Behind them a youth with a pony dragged the cause down to the stream for skinning and butchering. A striped hunter, a big male! A pale-faced Hektor sat and cleaned up Dapple’s wound with icy water, then he told Billi about it while he tried to rough-sew his gear together with trembling hands. The result wasn’t pretty but Hektor wouldn’t freeze. Billi listened while he skinned and butchered, because every hand had to keep at that to get done before dark.

  “I did it right Billi, dead right. The striped hunter came out of the trees and straight at me.” Hektor paused, obviously re-running that sight. “I’ve never seen anything like it. My first shaft went right under his head, in the base of his throat and into his chest. He should have dropped, or swerved at least.” Hektor made a shaky attempt at a laugh. “He felt it, his head whipped sideways at the pain, but came straight back to me and he never missed a step. I tried to get another shaft in the bow, I really tried Billi, but the speed of it!” Hektor stopped for a moment.

  “They are fast, all the hunting cats. A big one like that covers a huge distance every bound.” Billi thought of the Great Hunter, and how few bounds such a beast would have needed that morning to close on Billi and Rabbit.

  “Yes, I know now! It gathered itself and leapt and,” Hektor shook his head briefly. “I should have died right there Billi, but a shaft hit him in the ribs and he twisted in mid-air, snapping at the feathers.” Hektor’s hand reached out to ruffle Dapple’s ears. “Then Dapple hit him, hard, and it was just enough.”

  Billi looked at the striped hunter, now hung up in a tree and losing his beautiful pelt. “Either on their own might not have been enough to stop that.”

  “Both weren’t. The beast still flung out a paw that smashed my bow and did this.” Hektor indicated the torn leather clothing he’d tried to fasten back together. “The striped hunter landed on his side, but started to get up again. A paw knocked Dapple aside because the beast still wanted me. I could see it in his eyes.” Hektor shuddered briefly. “I’d stuck my spear upright in the snow beside me, handy like, so I grabbed it and jumped in.” Hektor sighed. “Got it right first time, which is a really good thing. Even then he knocked the spear out of my hands.”

  “You always were steady with a spear.” Billi’s comment brought a little smile to Hektor’s lips, as Billi intended. “Your Bliss will have a really pretty rug, or a bed fur looking at its size.”

  “Which is really good because there’ll be three under it. Oh. Ah well, never mind. I’m supposed to keep it quiet for some reason, until she tells everyone or the bump shows.” Hektor glanced round. “Don’t let on I told you, will you Billi?”

  Billi grinned as he realised what Hektor meant. “A bairn, a babe? That’s wonderful Hektor.” Billi glanced at the skinned cat. “That really does make you lucky. ‘Twould have been a terrible thing if you’d not come back.”

  “Or Dapple. I’m starting to realise why Hunters are like they are when they lose a Hound. The feeling in your head sort of gets to you, doesn’t it.” He chuckled. “Dapple seems pleased about the babe, his buzz is happy in my head. Bliss has been making a little feather pillow and a feather mattress and quilt from the fowl you told me I could take.” Hektor glanced round. “You don’t think anyone else heard, about the babe?”

  “No. They’re all busy, and the youths are already arguing if the Great-Stag antlers or your striped hunter fangs are the better trophy.” Billi looked at the state of Hekt
or’s leathers. “You’d best put a pelt inside that, fur in, to keep out the draughts. Are you all right now?”

  “Yes, I think so. Da will be terrible upset. He knows about the babe and wanted to come instead of me, but he’s limping from a bad fall so I said no.” Hektor stood and wavered a little. “I’m steady enough now to go and find Mikkel and thank him for that arrow.” Hektor moved off, still a little unsteady, and Dapple limped after him.

  By the time the last carcase had been skinned and jointed, night had fallen and everyone felt exhausted. Others had lesser injuries, and there were once again two broken fingers. Some reckoned the fingers were a tradition now. The Hunters had collected the usual selection of strains and bruises and maybe sprung ribs and sprains, and sore muscles from pulling the bows again and again. Even the worst injured agreed the result, the sheer amount of meat, made the pain worthwhile. That included the youth who’d keep the three scars up his forearm for life, and memories of a dead cat that wasn’t.

  Fires were lit and the worst wounded sat near them with heaps of dead wood to keep the blaze going. Nortan’s leg now had a splint, while Eddmune’s arm had been strapped and padded and he’d been teased about how his plump rump had saved him from more injuries. Youths smashed the ice lining the small swift river to help the fires in keeping the scavengers at bay, and the Hounds ringed the campsite. From the noises, scavengers were already tearing into the piles of offal on the hillsides and in the trees.

  The travois were started overnight by the guards, to save time in the morning. Nobody wanted to linger because the number of watching eyes shining in the firelight grew throughout the night. By morning shapes could be seen moving in the trees and the branches were thick with birds, some of which were already darting in to snatch a meal. The party had to move, but where had been the question that kept all the night guards arguing through the night.

  They’d taken a magnificent haul of meat but with so many men and ponies, more could be carried. The Hunters knew about Billi’s idea, moving up two valleys each hunt so the game weren’t too alarmed and the valleys each side would help restock those hunted. He’d meant each year but that would still work for a double hunt, especially as they wouldn’t take as many from the second one. The prey two valleys up shouldn’t be unduly alarmed by today. By the time everyone had slept and dawn arrived everyone agreed.