Eiagan's Winter by M. J. Padgett

Author:M. J. Padgett [M. J. Padgett]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: MJ Padgett Books
Published: 2022-06-21T00:00:00+00:00

Nineteen

3723, The Year of Deception

Rebel Camp, The Black Waters

The Banished Land, Goranin

Eiagan crouched low and advanced toward her target, a meaty buck who wandered into a copse of blackroot trees not far from camp. The buck snorted and grunted, displeased with the lack of proper foliage. He’d find nothing in The Banished Land, but Eiagan was pleased he’d wandered across the border into the frigid wasteland. The wind picked up, carrying her scent toward the beast. The buck raised his majestic head high and sniffed. He caught her scent, but as the breeze shifted, he caught it from another direction as well. On unsteady feet, the buck trotted one way, then another, unsure where his hunter hid among the scraggly brush.

Eiagan was an expert hunter and had learned early to set her trap and wait. Many men preferred the thrill of the track, but not Eiagan. To her, stalking a defenseless animal was barbaric. There was no doubt Eiagan’s intellect far surpassed that of her prey, so she did not feel it necessary to draw out his death in a game of chase. Instead, she placed articles of her worn clothing to the north, south, and east of the camp then settled herself in a thicket to the west. In the center was her bait, a few branches spread over two root vegetables.

When the buck was sufficiently confused and frozen in place, Eiagan stood prepared to pounce. The wind, however, carried a sound that earned both Eiagan and the buck’s attention. Eiagan first thought it a dream. No child would wander among the frigid land alone. The wind howled, drowning the child’s voice for a moment. The echo was a warning to the buck—run while you can! It darted to the north, but Eiagan’s focus shifted. The child, a girl, cried out again when the wind died. It came from the forest behind the camp. Eiagan did not fear the child would find the camp and cause trouble, but her stalker might. The gruff voice of a man carried behind the child’s—an immediate threat to Eiagan’s people.

“Please,” the girl begged. Eiagan followed the voice until it grew clearer among the whistles and howls of the wind that tore at her clothing. “Please, leave me be!”

Smack! Eiagan heard it plain as day. It infuriated her, so she moved with haste toward the child. In a small clearing, Eiagan saw a burly man of about forty or so years struggling with a small girl, perhaps ten to twelve. Her clothing torn, the child wept and fell limp in the man’s arms. His shoulders were broad and heavy, clothing fresh enough he’d likely entered the land that morning, perhaps before dawn. Piping smoke mixed with sweet honeysuckle invaded Eiagan’s nostrils. The stranger tore the girl’s dress, pushing Eiagan to her limit. She exploded from the trees and leaped on the attacker’s back. He was startled and stumbled, but regained his footing and thrashed about, flinging Eiagan back and forth. He was unable to toss her.

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