That they should violate the sanctity of his realm angered Bran, and he determined to drive them away. He swooped down, ready to defend his woodland kingdom, only to realise, too late, that it was himself they were hunting.
He plummeted instantly to earth, landing on the path some little way ahead of the invading men. The sharp-sighted dogs saw him and howled to be released. As Bran gathered himself to flee, the hunters loosed the hounds.
Bran ran into the forest, found a dark nook beneath a rock, and crawled in to hide. But the dogs had got his scent, and they came running, baying for his blood . . .
Bran awakened with the sound of barking still echoing through the trees. A soft mist curled amongst the roots of the trees, and dew glistened on the lower leaves and on the grassy path.
The long rising note came again and, close behind, the very beast itself: a lean, long-legged grey hunting hound with clipped ears and a shaggy pelt, bounding with great, galloping strides through the morning fog.
Seizing his bow, Bran nocked an arrow and drew back the string. He was on the point of loosing the missile when a small boy appeared, racing after the dog. Barefoot, dirty-faced, with long, tangled dark hair, the lad appeared to be no more than six or seven years old. He saw Bran the same instant Bran saw him; the boy glimpsed the weapon in Bran’s hands and halted just as Bran’s fingers released the string.
In the same instant a voice cried, “Pull up!”
Distracted by the shout, Bran’s aim faltered, and the arrow went wide; the hound leapt, colliding with Bran and carrying him to the ground. Bran crossed his arms over his neck to protect his throat . . . as the dog licked his face. It took a moment for Bran to understand that he was not being attacked. Taking hold of the dog’s iron-studded collar, he tried to free himself from the beast’s eager attentions, but it stood on his chest, holding him to the ground. “Off!” cried Bran. “Get off!”
“Look at you now,” said Angharad as she came to stand over him. “And is this not how I first found you?”
“I surrender,” Bran told her. “Get him off.”
The old woman gestured to the boy, who came running and pulled the dog away.
Bran rolled to his feet and brushed at the dog’s muddy footprints. Angharad smiled and reached down to help him. “I thought you were away to the north country and the safety of a rich kinsman’s hearth,” she said, her smile brimming with merry mischief. “How is it that you are still forest bound?”
“You would know that better than I,” replied Bran.
Embarrassed to be so easily found, he nevertheless welcomed the sight of the old woman.
“Aye,” she agreed, “I would. But we have had this discussion before, I think.” She extended her hand, and Bran saw that she held a cloth bundle. “Your fast is over, Master Bran.
Come, let us eat together one last time.”
Bran, chastened by his luckless wandering through the forest, dutifully fell into step behind the old woman as she led her little party a short distance to a glade and there spread out a meal of cold meat, nuts, dried fruit, mushrooms, honey cakes, and eggs. The three of them ate quietly; Angharad divided the meat and shared it out between them. When the edge of his hunger had been blunted, Bran turned to the boy, who seemed curiously familiar to him, and asked, “What’s your name?”
The boy raised big dark eyes to him but made no reply.
Thinking the boy had not understood him, Bran asked again, and this time the lad raised a dirty finger to his lips and shook his head.
“He is telling you he cannot speak,” explained Angharad.
“I call him Gwion Bach.”
“He is a kinsman of yours?”
“Not mine,” she replied lightly. “He belongs to the forest— one of many who live here.When I told him I was going to find you, he insisted on coming, too. I think he knows you.”
Bran examined the boy more closely . . . the attack in the farmyard—could it be the same boy? “One of many,” he repeated after a moment. “And are there many?”
“More now that the Ffreinc have come,” she answered, handing the boy a small boiled egg, which he peeled and popped into his mouth with a smack of his lips.
Bran considered this for a moment and then said, “You knew I would