now we will have at least spotted a deer or a bear, but I’m not at all eager to encounter the latter. I think that they might be on the other side; the height of the water suggests otherwise.
Nathaniel shoots two birds the following day. To make it even better, I find that two of my traps have caught me a rabbit each. Our luck starts to pick up.
We eat only one of the birds, but pluck the other and skin the rabbits. We fillet the meat and package it carefully with prepared bags, and then put it in our packs. It won’t last long, so we’ll either have to eat it quickly or head home. We decide to eat the other bird.
When we wake the next morning, I feel something is a little different. It’s not the air. Not my clothes. Not my hair. Not my pack.
I ask Nathaniel if he notices anything, but he asks me what I’m talking about and continues moving. I shrug off the feeling and it goes away.
Finally, we see one. A deer. It’s a buck with a good-sized rack, and it stands tall. But there’s another: a doe. It’s rather small, and a good distance away from the buck. Nathaniel nocks an arrow and takes aim.
I see a funny movement out of the corner of my eye. As soon as I turn to see, Nathaniel fires. The doe bounds across the clearing and the arrow enters her side; the buck takes off into the trees before I can blink.
Nathaniel gives me a look. “What were you looking at?”
“The doe,” I answer. “It was running at the buck.” I look at where the doe fell. “Why’d you shoot the doe?”
“You distracted me! I was aiming for the buck!”
“You’re that easily distracted?”
“Apparently.”
I stare at him. “Well,” I say, “at least you got something.”
He nods and says, “Come help me get it.”
It’s just a little doe, so both of us grab an end and carry it without too much trouble. But by the time we make it to the Fravora, we’re exhausted.
After a minute or two of rest, we get to work. Using my trap ropes, we lash some smaller logs together and make some sort of crude makeshift sled. Then we work quickly on the deer, readying it for travel and getting rid of its insides. We have to start home quickly, before the doe spoils.
We take turns pulling the sled like a handcart. It doesn’t take us too long, though the trip home is obviously longer than the trip there.
Once we get home, Nathaniel takes the deer to the shed to skin it. He prefers to butcher his own meats instead of paying the butcher to do it. I help him with the whole process, and then set about the drying and salting. It takes multiple hours.
It’s a good thing we got home when we did. If we had been a day later, our family would not have been there to greet us.
THe War Comes to Us
A loud crack starts me awake and I shoot out of bed. Outside of my window I hear yells but when I go to investigate, my father roars “WAKE! ATTACK!”
I throw myself away from the window and dress in record time, then rocket down the ladder (because my room doubles as the attic) and into the den where my Father was yelling from. Mother is there with him, and my brothers quickly follow. I smell and hear fire, and outside there’s an eerie orange glow.
“What’s going on?!” Nathaniel yells.
“Bandits,” says Father. He’s holding his old sword, a great steel claymore he made for himself many years before. Normally it hangs above our fireplace, but now he holds it ready. “Kadmus, come with me. Everyone else stay here. Get into the cellar and lock the trapdoor. You will be safe there.”
No one moves.
“NOW!” Father commands. “Kadmus, get your throwing knives.”
“What?”
“You heard me, get them!”
I run back into my room and grab my five throwing knives, sticking them into little loops on my belt. When I come back down, Father is coming out of the cellar. He hands me a sword, saying, “You will need this.” Then he helps my three brothers and Mother into the cellar. He hands Nathaniel a sword similar to mine and commands, “Nathaniel, if anybody aside from me or Kadmus comes in this house you will use this. Do you understand me?” He is speechless. “Do you understand me?” Nathaniel nods slowly. “Good. Stay here