The men seemed to breathe easier when she’d gone. “You should have killed her,” Cearul insisted.
“She’s no threat to us.” Davin mounted his horse and added, “She’s alone, abandoned by her pack. I’d be surprised if she survives the spring.”
“If she’s nursing pups, they could threaten our livestock.” Cearul glared at Kieran, as though he blamed him for Davin’s mercy. “And that was a waste of good meat.”
“It was his kill,” Orin argued. The young man’s face colored, as though he’d startled himself by speaking. “And his right to give it as he pleased.”
“The meat belongs to his master. Slaves own nothing.” Cearul looked to Davin for confirmation.
At that, Kieran lifted the deer over his shoulders, the weight bearing into his wounds. He didn’t care about their petty arguments, especially not from men trying to gain status. He held no regrets for what he’d done.
Gritting his teeth, he carried the deer back to the horses. A light rain began to fall, spattering his tunic and skin. When he reached the edge of the clearing, he finished gutting the animal. Though he had slaughtered his share of game over the years, the sight of blood sobered him. Dark memories of his brother invaded with each slice of the blade. He swallowed hard, steeling himself for the task. Afterwards, he tied the hind legs to the animal’s neck to prevent dirt from filling up the inner cavity.
Orin offered to help, but he refused. This was his duty and he’d not let weakness overcome him. Twilight had begun to overtake the day, and he felt the weariness creeping in.
Blood covered his hands, and he returned to a stream he’d seen earlier inside the forest. He dipped his hands in the icy water, washing the red stains off his face and hands. Then he returned to hoist the deer carcass over his shoulders.
“I’m sorry I missed the shot,” a voice spoke from behind him. Kieran saw Orin standing, his bow slung over his shoulder.
“It happens. But you slowed him down for me.” Kieran tried to offer a note of encouragement.
Orin nodded, raking a hand through his gold hair. “You—you did well today. We’d have had nothing if you hadn’t come.”
Kieran realized that the young man was trying to extend friendship toward him. It wouldn’t be wise, for his status would only bring Orin down. He didn’t want the lad shunned for interacting with him. Instead of continuing the conversation, he gave a nod and turned away.
The other men rode beyond him, their spirits merry. Orin continued to lag behind on his own mount, as if hoping Kieran would speak to him. In time, the young man sensed his desire not to talk and let him be.
Kieran trudged across the meadow, letting his mind imagine the wood carving of Iseult. The drawings gave the accurate shape, but not the emotion. That was the true challenge to him, bringing a face alive by revealing personality instead of mere appearance. He’d captured her eyes, but not her mouth.
It might be that Davin would want her smiling, but Iseult looked as though she hadn’t been happy in a long time.
Had Branna been like Iseult, promised to him but unhappy? He’d never know why she had turned against him, opening her arms to another man.
Bitterness filled him, for he knew just what it was to love someone who didn’t love you back.
Whentheyreachedtheringfort, his feet ached along with his back. Kieran didn’t relish the idea of skinning the game, nor cutting the deer and rabbit into strips of meat. The life of a slave, he reminded himself. He would have to perform the tasks that others did not wish to do.
He lifted the deer over his shoulders again and took it to the slaughtering pit. A wooden table was set out over a low stone trench, allowing any remaining blood to pass away from the work area.
He worked on skinning the rabbit first, distancing himself from the task as best he could. Orin rejoined him, unsheathing his own knife. “I’ll cut the meat,” he offered.
“I can manage.” Kieran nodded his head toward the others. “You should join the other men.”
Orin grimaced. “They haven’t much to say to me. I’d rather be of use here.” Without waiting for a reply, he took out a knife and quartered the meat. “Go ahead and start on the deer. I’ll help you balance it over the trench.”
Kieran hesitated, but lifted the deer into position. Orin helped him, and together they finished butchering it.
It was then that he saw Iseult returning, another woman at her side. Their horses’ flanks glistened with sweat, and both women looked as though they’d been caught in the rain. They also appeared guilty, as though they weren’t supposed to be out alone.
Iseult handed her horse to one of the younger boys and stopped when she saw them. For a moment, she looked torn as if deciding whether to speak to him. She lowered her mantle, and strands of wet hair framed her delicate face. Her skin appeared soft, like a woman who had just emerged from a bath. The folds of her léine molded to her legs, her slender body like a young sapling. She took another step forward and his traitorous body responded.
Don’t.He shot her a warning look, not to come any further. She should know better than to speak to a man like him. He didn’t care what she wanted to say. Whatever it was, he couldn’t help her. Wouldn’t help her.
Deliberately he turned his attention back to the meat, though he was fully aware of her. She moved toward Davin’s hut, and he breathed easier when she was gone. It was better this way.
He hoped she wouldn’t return this night. He didn’t need her to finish the carving. When he was around her, he seemed to become a different man. Guided by instinct instead of honor.
Stay far away from her,he warned himself.
