Dragonwar by Mirren Hogan

Author:Mirren Hogan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mirren Hogan

Chapter Eighteen

Laynin touched the knife to the neck of the sheep. Her hand trembled. The sheep blinked at her. She lowered the knife.

She should take the animal from the pen, up to Risper and let him dispatch it before eating.

Risper's memory of the dragon dying stuck in Laynin's mind. She fell asleep thinking about it, dreamed about it, and it was uppermost in her mind when she awoke.

In the memory, Laynin-Risper had been close enough to see everything. The significance shocked her and left her anxious. Risper could just as easily have died that day.

The idea of killing any living thing after that turned her stomach.

The sheep bleated and made to move away. She grabbed onto it, one arm slung over its back. It bleated again, a higher sound.

Fearful, Laynin realised.

Her dithering was making it scared. Even if she could heft it into the hard-cart without it running away, it would be terrified of Risper. It might just be an animal, but it didn't deserve to be scared more than it was.

With a swallow, she found the sheep's neck and drove the knife into it. Blood spurted onto her hand, hot and sticky. She grimaced and lowered the dying sheep to the ground.

"I'm sorry, I was hoping it'd be faster than this," she told it. The animal writhed around for several minutes before lying still, red staining its fleece pink.

"I may never eat meat again," she muttered. Or anything, since her breakfast threatened to depart her stomach. At least Zannis hadn't come out to laugh at her.

She rose and dragged the sheep by its back legs up and into the hand-cart.

How hungry are you? she asked, eyeing the remaining sheep.

Very, Risper replied. At least three sheep worth. He sounded apologetic.

Laynin sighed. Of course. You know, chickens would be easier. I'd just— She mimed breaking their necks.

I feel like sheep.

Do you, or did Nehko tell you to say that? she asked.

When he didn't reply, she snorted. "So he's punishing me too, is he?"

He is doing as Ara has asked. But I really do feel like sheep. I like the way their wool feels when I swall—

"All right, I don't need to hear any more," Laynin replied out loud, making a disgusted face. I think I may suggest to Ara that they shear the sheep before you eat them. It's a waste of wool.

Where would be the fun then? he asked.

Exactly. She chose another sheep at random and started toward it.

The second and third proved easier to kill than the first, but felt heavier as she moved them into the hand-cart. Her arms ached by the time she shoved the last one into place.

"All right you three," she told them, "no falling off." She took hold of the handle and lifted the back end of the cart so it could roll on its wheels. The load was heavy and unwieldy, making the going slower.

"Do you need some help?"

Travin's voice, speaking suddenly, made her startle and almost tip the cart on its side. She rolled it to a stop and straightened up to wipe her brow and rub her back.

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