“Just think, if you’d killed him, then we’d have to pack him back down into town and our hunt would already be over. This way you can live all of your days, knowing in your heart, that you had the white stag in your sights but chose to let him live on.”
Brendly thought about that for a moment, then laughed at March’s cheer.
“So what do we do now?”
“Let’s go back to camp and eat a bite, then go exploring.” March was feeling electric. His blood was charged. He felt immortal. “Let’s go all the way up to the ridge!”
“To the ridge?” Bren ques oned, with only a hint of alarm in his voice. He too was feeling the invincibility of youth coursing through his veins. He was now bound and determined to make the best of what was sure to be the last hunt he ever had with his best friend. Adding a li le danger to the ke le only seemed to make the idea of it all the be er.
They ate and then broke camp. Neither of them was able to sit s ll for any length of me. To make it to the ridge before nigh all would be easy, but to find a safe place to camp up there might take hours. They moved with intensity and purpose as they gathered their things and loaded their packs.
Neither of them wanted to have to search out a place to camp in the dark, and building a fire too close to the ridge would only serve to alert the wilder things to their presence. As adventurous as they felt, there were things in the Teeth that they didn’t ever want to cross paths with, and they both knew it.
The climb grew more laborious the higher they went. With every step the air grew thinner, the foliage thicker, and the ground less agreeable to their so leather boots. When they were finally forced to make camp, the ridge was s ll a quarter mile above them. It was ge ng dark and they were relieved that they could make a fire. They were s ll well within the kingdom’s patrolled boundary. They didn’t have to worry about anything a acking them. This would allow them to sleep without watches. This way they would be able to explore the ridge in the morning, in the daylight.
The colder, higher al tude demanded that they keep warm, and they wasted no me using the dusky light that was le to gather wood and get a blaze started. They strung their canvas on a rope between two pines at the edge of the ny clearing they had chosen, and se led in for the night.
Unlike the previous night, there was no glorious view of the valley below.
Pine trees, shrubs, and boulders spread out in every direc on, as far as the eye could see, which was only about twenty paces. They sat and ate dried beef from their packs as the last of the sunlight faded from the world. A er a me, March started rummaging through his pack, with a wicked grin on his face.
No cing this, Brendly spoke up. “What is it?” he asked.
“I was gonna save it for a er we got a kill, but now seems like a be er me.” March handed something to Brendly.
It was a silver flask. Brendly could tell by the weight of it that it was full.
“It’s Master Beryll’s strongest plum brandy!” March informed before he snatched it back from Bren. He pulled the stopper, took a long pull, and then nearly spewed it back out of his mouth as the burn of the fiery stuff hit his throat.
Laughing, Brendly took the flask back from his red faced friend, and took a few small sips. “You sip a brandy, March,” he said knowingly, before the burn hit his throat as well. “Whew, you could burn green wood with this stuff. This is raw brandy hooch, not plum brandy.” He passed the flask back to March.
They each took a few more sips and agreed to save the rest for another day, but they’d each had enough to get them warm and light headed.
Around them, the night song of the higher al tudes began to sound, reminding them that they were close to the boundary.
“Do you really think I’ll marry Canda Shellings?” Brendly asked a er the long silence. He was trying to take his mind off of the eerie sounds of the
night.
“Her, or Deanda,” March teased. “They both giggle and blush, and carry on when you pass them.”
“No more than Jeana Hallin does you,” Brendly returned defensively. He no ced an immediate sadness take hold of March at the men on of her name. “What does she think of you leaving?”
“She’s so perfect and understanding some mes, but lately she’s hard to be around.” March sat up quickly. He was determined not to let his good mood slip away. “All in all I think she’s just another sad sack, like you.” He punched Bren lightly on the shoulder. “She’ll get over it.”
“It’s not that I’m a sad sack, March. I just--” He looked around the camp searching for the right words as if he might find them roos ng in the pine trees or hiding in the thicket. “Who’s gonna help me terrorize Quinton?
And who is gonna race me to the short dock when the krill begin to spawn?” Bren forced a laugh. “And who’s gonna come out here and traipse through the woods with me and scare the white stag off when I have the perfect shot lined up?”
March smiled broadly at his friend. “He was magnificent, wasn’t he? Did you see his antlers? They looked like flaming ice.”
“Yup, he was amazing.”
“I won’t ever forget that moment as long as I live Bren, the way he snorted when I jumped out of the bushes. I think he was laughing at us.”
“He wouldn’t have been laughing if you hadn’t jumped out when you did.”
Bren smiled at the thought.
“I don’t think you’d have done it,” March’s voice turned serious. “When it came me to loose you would have balked, or missed on purpose. Not even you, the great Brendly Tuck, could have killed such a creature.” March stood and yawned as he stretched out his arms.
“Maybe not,” Brendly conceded. He wondered if March was right. He lay awake a long me a er his friend was asleep, wondering about just that.
3
Bren woke with a shock as icy cold water splashed across his face. March’s hysterical laughter filled his bewilderment. The sun was already up. The sounds of the birds chirping and whistling filled the cool air between March’s deep belly roars of mirth.
March handed Bren a pan full of scrambled grouse eggs that he had collected and cooked earlier. With a grimace of friendly disapproval, Brendly took them and woofed them down with his fingers. A er that, they put their bulky packs under the canvas shelter and checked their gear.
They each tested the sharpness of their long skinning knives and made sure that they had plenty of arrows between them. They put enough water and dried beef for the day in their belt pouches and le the things they didn’t think they would need. March pushed his head, and one arm, through a coil of rope and checked to make sure he had his nder box.
They were both accomplished hunters and had learned from experience not to go off unprepared. Bren even went as far as pu ng a small wood ax in his belt.
It took longer than they thought it would to reach the ridge. When they finally got there they were almost disappointed not to see hoards of kobles
and wood trolls gathering on the other side. What they found was a small valley, very small compared to Prominence Valley. The dense forest con nued down the steep terrain to the valley’s floor some three hundred yards below them. There, a small stream could be seen through the treetops winding its way down the hill.
Not far below them, the trees gave way to a rocky outcropping that looked interes ng. Without a thought, March started down toward it with only a smiling glance back at Bren’s hesita on.
