Sons of Blackbird Mountain by Joanne Bischof

Author:Joanne Bischof
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Thomas Nelson
Published: 2018-05-22T16:00:00+00:00

NINETEEN

Pack strapped to his back, Thor strode up the hillside, feeling like he was ninety years old. He had to be a good mile from the farmyard now. Panting, he slowed. Sun-warmed evergreens fragranced the air, and it was this piney tang he heaved into his lungs, trying to gentle his breathing. This was a climb that needed to be made in order to hunt.

Haakon would probably pitch a fit to find wild game on the roasting spit, but Thor had a mind to try and bag something today. It was all he could do to sit still any longer, and he had nothing else to keep busy with. At least not right now.

Though Jorgan had let him set off on his own, Thor had been made to promise not to do anything stupid.

Define stupid, he asked.

Not amused, Jorgan had given a warning look. Thor had smiled for the sole reason of it feeling good to smile again.

Jorgan didn’t need to worry. Though it was no secret to Thor where most of the stills on this mountain were, and though he could hunt down at least two within the hour, a drink was the last thing he came up here for. No, it was the wide-open space and the need to think clearly. Grete had tried to come along, but Thor made her stay behind. She was handy for small game but didn’t like to be far from Haakon, so she would only come up here and fret.

Head still aching, Thor slowed. He sat on a broken log and pulled his pipe from his pocket. Thanks to Aven, there was a fresh quarter pound of tobacco in his pouch. He pulled out a pinch and stuffed the chamber. He patted his pocket for a match, but the small box wasn’t there. He looked in his pack. Nothing.

Two curse words and one humdinger of a hand sign came to mind, but he just set the pipe aside and hung his head.

Folding his hands, he pressed his forehead to his knuckles and closed his eyes.

Focused on breathing in and out. In and out. His head pounded like a runaway horse, and there was nothing to take the edge off.

Thor glanced back in the direction of the farm. It was too far to see, but was Haakon still on the porch, Aven trimming his already-short hair? That’s what had made Thor decide to get away. He didn’t like scissors when it came to hair. Nor when they were in Aven’s hand. Even less did he like seeing her and Haakon there together, deep in conversation.

It seemed a good time to load up a pack for a night in the woods.

Shifting his boots, Thor tried not to think about having a smoke. Or a drink. Or anything else he wanted in life and couldn’t seem to figure out. Why was everything so dad-blasted hard? Drinking himself toward the grave had been no picnic. Being sober wasn’t either. It was like life was out to corner him.

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