Brokk
I strode around the broken stones, bowed under the weight of the huge buck I’d slaughtered. The last of the dying sun’s rays followed me as I traipsed to the fire and slung my kill down.
“Any trouble on the hunt?” Leif asked.
I grunted negative. I’d spent the afternoon gutting and preparing the carcass, hanging it from a high branch to drain out while my wolf enjoyed the offal. The buck would feed us for a while. The next time I wanted to leave, I’d have to come up with a new excuse.
“We shall have a feast,” Leif announced, eyes shining.
“I’ll cut branches to make a spit,” he continued, drawing his axe and hopping over the wall nearest the lake. An ordinary man wouldn’t survive the drop, but, a moment later, his red head bobbed towards the forest.
Coward. I called after him.
I
