“I received the food.” He lifted his face to meet his master’s discerning gaze. No promises did he make, nor did he offer words of gratitude.
Davin’s hand moved to the sword hanging at his side. A silent threat, but one Kieran recognized.
“You were a fighter once,” his master predicted. “No fudir would behave with such pride.”
When Kieran made no denial, Davin grunted. “I suspected as much.” With a hand, he gestured for Kieran to join the others. “You’ll be with us for some time,” he said. “You should get acquainted with the other men in our ringfort.”
“There is no need for them to know me, nor I them.” Kieran kept his gaze upon the forest ahead. “I am a slave. Nothing more.” And in thirteen weeks, he would be gone from this place.
Davin stopped his horse and dismounted. “I offered you the chance to earn back your freedom, should you complete the dower chest to my satisfaction. We have need of a woodcarver.”
Kieran kept his face veiled of any reaction. He wanted no part of it. These men were not his tribesmen. He crossed his arms. “What are your orders?”
Davin shook his head in resignation. His hands moved to a knife at his waist. He unsheathed it, and offered it to Kieran hilt-first. A gesture of trust, granting a weapon to a slave.
“You’re going to clean all of the game we hunt and bring it back to the ringfort,” he said.
He dismounted, and Kieran tucked the knife away at his waist. He led Davin’s gelding away, welcoming the chance to be alone while his master joined the others. The men continued onward into the forest while he waited along the perimeter.
After an hour, he wandered a short way into the woods and set up snares near a small stream. Then he returned to the horses and took a moment to inspect his surroundings.
The land on the peninsula was magnificent, with forests covering the hills. Mountains, yellow with wild gorse, cast a craggy backdrop to a fierce blue sea. He absorbed the sight, wishing he had someone to share it with.
He wondered if Davin had brought Iseult to a place such as this. The wild beauty of the land brought him a sense of peace.
She’d been seeking that last night, hadn’t she? Wandering into the darkness, away from everyone else. The anguish on her face had startled him. What troubled her so? He’d followed her, intending to keep his distance. He’d wanted to guard her, to protect her from whatever was bothering her.
She didn’t like him, and he hadn’t been kind to her. And the truth was, being around Iseult unsettled him. She was the sort of woman every man dreamed of being with. Exquisitely beautiful, in a natural way that took no effort.
He’d learned not to trust women like her. They never meant what they said. With a few words, they could twist a man’s willpower into dust.
Tonight she would come to him again, while he carved her image into wood. He swore on Egan’s life that he wouldn’t touch her. Wouldn’t let his body or mind dwell upon illicit desire. He still possessed honor, though he might have lost everything else.
When the sun rose higher, Kieran entered the forest to check his snares and found two trapped rabbits. With Davin’s knife he cleaned them, leaving the skin on and tying up the carcasses. Kieran tucked them into a pouch at his waist before returning to the horses. He ran his hands across the gelding’s back, speaking softly to the animal.
The men came back empty-handed, and though Davin remarked upon the rabbits he’d caught, he did not ask Kieran to surrender them for the noon meal. Instead, the hunters partook of dried meat and bread, before moving further west.
In the late afternoon, they reached another dense forest, several miles from the ringfort. They kept the horses on the outskirts, tethering the reins to keep the animals safe. This time, Davin beckoned for Kieran to accompany them. Oak and pine trees grew closely together, while dark green moss and ferns carpeted the forest ground. Faded sunlight streamed through the canopy, and the earth smelled of the rain that afternoon. Kieran noted the different woods, birch and hazel, ash and poplar. There might come a time when he would need them.
“Mind yourself, slave.” Cearul moved in front of him, directly behind Davin, keeping his knife drawn. Sunlight gleamed upon his shaved head, and his eyes remained alert. Kieran didn’t fool himself into thinking the weapon was meant for hunting. The red-bearded man intended to exert his dominance.
The others spoke to one another as if Kieran weren’t there, looking to Davin for leadership. It was a strange feeling, though not entirely unwelcome. So many times within his own tribe, he had shouldered the responsibility for making the decisions. And there were so many choices he wished he could take back.
One of the men was younger than the others, a lad barely past eight and ten, if he’d guessed accurately. Kieran waited until the others passed by him, then fell behind the young man. Orin, the others had called him. His dark gold hair was ragged against his neck, as if he’d cut it with a dagger instead of letting it grow. A thin beard covered his cheeks, and the lad had an eager stride, as though he’d only just been allowed to come with the men.
Orin’s mannerisms reminded him of what his brother Egan might have done, if he’d lived to be a man. Kieran lowered his head, offering a silent prayer for his brother’s soul before forcing his mind back on the hunt. He knelt, studying the ground for signs of animal tracks. Then he sniffed the air and froze his movement.
There. A few yards away, he spied what they’d been looking for. He crept forward and tapped Orin on the back, gesturing for silence. He pointed through the clearing and a young buck raised its head. The reddish coat stood out against the greenery, and small knobby points rested upon a new growth of antlers.
Orin lifted his bow, and Kieran held his breath, waiting for him to make the shot. The bowstring grew taut, then a smooth twang sang out from the weapon. The arrow pierced the buck in the stomach, but it was not a fatal kill. Kieran cursed as the animal took off in the opposite direction. He ran after the deer, his legs burning as he tried to overtake the animal. Almost there . . .
He closed in, while the deer’s wounds slowed it down. Dimly, he heard a shout behind him. As Kieran unsheathed his knife, preparing to strike, a low growl sounded from the brush. He ignored it and dove at the deer. He pulled the animal down and ended its life.
The snarling increased, and Kieran kept the blade ready. A lone female wolf hung back, her ribs visible through her gray fur. Seeing the animal’s hunger, he stilled, understanding that she had been tracking the deer as well. He paused, not wanting to surrender venison to the predator. Instead, he tossed one of the rabbits to her. The wolf dove upon the rabbit, tearing at the meat.
Kieran stared at her wild hunger, recognizing a part of himself in her desperation. He’d known that savagery before, of the instincts that barely separated man and beast. And gods above, he knew what it was to be that hungry.
A hunter raised his bow to kill the wolf, but Davin stopped him. “Let her eat.” To Kieran, he ordered, “Take the deer and bring it back to the horses. We have what we came for.” He said nothing about the meat Kieran had fed the wolf but each man kept his eye upon the beast. The female wolf backed away, until she disappeared in the thicket.
