CHAPTER 17
George rose at dawn and made a brief meal, brushing off any last crumbs as he entered the kennels. He’d left word at the stable to saddle Mosby. He wanted a familiar horse under him while trying to hunt a strange pack for the first time.
Spotting Rhys as he walked in the gate, George pulled him aside for a quick question. “When we hunt fox, it either gets away since we don’t stop it from going to ground or, rarely, it’s pulled down by the hounds and it ends very quickly. I’ve never hunted deer with hounds—what happens?”
“The huntsman dismounts and dispatches the stag with his hunting sword, breaks up the quarry, and rewards the hounds.”
George thought of the long specialized knives, almost small-swords, used in German hunting. “I’ve never used one.”
“We didn’t think about t
