EIGHTEEN
In nearly no time at all, Melitta had a small fire burning in the clearing. Supper, however, would be another matter. When she dug into the pouch George had given her, she found nothing but a few crumbs and a piece of cheese that looked like it had seen better days.
Like he'd said, if she wanted supper, she'd have to catch it herself.
Armed with only a dagger, she doubted she'd catch anything worth eating, if she even knew where to look.
She thought hard, remembering the times she'd gone hunting with the queen. The hunt she'd enjoyed most had been at a large lake where the river curved, and many birds congregated in the winter time. They'd shot so many, the whole court had feasted on goose for weeks. Queen Margareta had commented that hunting on the water hardly seemed fair
