1
Fresh Kill
Baelin unstrung his bow and shoved it over his right shoulder, under the strap of his backpack, then crouched down and gathered the spoils of the day's hunt. It had taken a while to dress out the buck and he would lose the light soon; it was well past time to get back home. Ilsa would begin to worry if he tarried too much longer, to say nothing of the scolding she would unleash if he caused dinner to grow cold.
He smiled at the contradiction in her possible reactions - and he had seen them both before. But then that was the essence of woman was it not? Contradiction.
The buck was heavier than it looked, and it took a moment to get it settled over his left shoulder and balanced well. Baelin adjusted his brown hunting cloak a bit so that it settled better over himself; summe
