CHAPTER 4
“Alun?” George called as he opened the front door to the huntsman’s house, along the lane nearest the kennels in the extensive grounds behind the manor. His dogs padded in behind him. There was no reply. Alun wouldn’t have expected him back today and must be out on his own business.
I have just this evening to myself, he thought, before this batch goes off to Rhys and me with them. Unless it snows again.
He hung his outer coat near the back door and considered. If it snows, I’ll get that Christmas tree I’ve been promising myself. That’ll be a short jaunt into the woods nearby and I know just the little balsam fir to take, big enough for the central hall in this house, by the staircase.
He’d taken some ribbing when he first raised the topic. Most of his family and friends here
