Wolfsbane Winter (17 page)

“A bear, you say?”

The farm worker looked surprised, but then nodded. “Yes. Three of his sheep have gone.”

“You come from near him?”

“Next farm over.”

“And you’re on your way back?”

“Yes.”

“Right. Give me five minutes to saddle my horse and you can show me the way. I’ll see if I can track it down.”

“Hey. I give the orders around here.” Nevin jumped off the cart, moving quicker than Deryn had seen him do all week.

“Sorry, sir.” Deryn paused. “What do you want me to do about the bear, sir?”

“Nothing until…” Nevin’s mouth kept moving after his voice had stopped. Even for him, a
fter I’ve screwed some free cider out of the farmer
was too blatant to say aloud.

“I have experience of hunting dangerous animals, sir.”

“Bears?”

“Fifty-foot-long windigos, sir.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever.” Nevin looked sick, and he had to know that the excessive deference was an act, even though Deryn had been careful to keep any hint of mockery from her voice. He finally spat on the ground by his foot and then twitched his shoulders, like a horse trying to shift a fly. “Go over to Sprig Valley and see what you can do now.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And…”

Deryn could tell Nevin was trying to think of some additional order he could give, to bolster the facade of being in command. He failed. After another furious scowl, he stormed away. His attempt to slam the station door behind him also failed.

“He’s angry at you.” Ross’s grasp of the obvious was undimmed.

“Do you really think so?”

“Uh, yes. Why…um…do you, er…”

Deryn patted his arm. “It’s okay, Ross. You’re probably right.”

“Oh. Good…or…” His bewildered frown cleared slowly. “Do you want me to come along as well?”

“No. But thanks. I’ll be fine.”

The offer was the first time Deryn had heard Ross show any sort of initiative. Maybe, if she got to spend some time with him, he might reveal something resembling a personality, but the possibility was not strong enough to influence her. Deryn wanted some time on her own—space, an afternoon alone in the wild, and the chance to forget all about Neupor for a few hours. And if her memory would not cooperate, once she was alone, she would be free to draw a picture of Nevin on a tree and use that as a knife target instead.

*

The swath of pasture was about fifty yards wide, on a slope running between the bogland bordering a stream, and the wall of trees uphill. Fifty or more sheep were grazing there, drifting slowly from one tussock of long grass to the next. The sound of their bleating formed an unrelenting cacophony, competing with the gurgle from the stream.

Deryn looked down. The ground was sodden. Water oozed from the mud into the depression caused by her boots. The soft earth would mean plenty of prints. Unfortunately, the wandering sheep had undoubtedly trampled most of them already. She might be lucky, or she might have to wait until she was in the trees before she could pick up the bear tracks.

The fence around the pasture was formed by thin stakes driven into the ground with thinner twigs woven through. The flimsy barrier would certainly not keep a bear out. Deryn was a little surprised it could keep sheep in. The same crude construction techniques characterized the other buildings. The farmhouse was identical to the buildings found in Neupor, although in the pastoral setting it looked quaint and rustic, rather than decrepit. Regrettably, the same could not be said of the owner.

Deryn glanced over her shoulder. Farmer Finn was standing a few feet behind her. Presumably, the sheep did not mind his dirt-encrusted clothes and skin, and since he lived alone, there was nobody else to complain. He was about sixty years old, with a level of personal charm and hygiene to give Nevin a run for his money, although in total contrast to the flabby sergeant, Finn was scrawny to the extent that if he took a bath, it would halve his weight. He also differed markedly from Nevin in that he was manifestly devoted to his work. The lost sheep were like a personal injury.

“Breaks my heart to think of them gone like that. My best damned sheep as well.”

“I’ll try to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Huh—try.” Finn did not sound impressed.

“Where did you find the sheep?”

“I didn’t. That’s the point. They’ve gone.” Finn’s tone made it clear he thought he was talking to an idiot.

Deryn bit back her first reply. After all, if he was used to dealing with Nevin and Ross his attitude was understandable. “I know. But you must have found the remains somewhere.”

“Nope.”

“Then how do you know a bear got them?”

“Because they’re gone.”

“It could have been a mountain lion or wolves.”

“Nope. Like I keep telling you. They’re gone. Takes a damn bear to knock a hole in the fence. If it’d been wolves or lions, they’d’ve jumped over and eaten them. I’d have found what was left of my sheep in the field.”

Deryn felt that Finn was vastly overstating the strength of his enclosure, but it gave her something to work with. She looked around the pasture, trying to spot the break. “Where?”

“Where’s what?”

“Where’s the hole in the fence?”

“I’ve fixed it, haven’t I? I don’t want the rest of my sheep running off.”

Deryn sighed. Her task was not getting any easier. “Can you show me where it was?”

Finn stared at her for a while, as if considering the reasonableness of her request. “This way. Come on.”

The farmer led her to the corner of the paddock farthest from the farmhouse. At this point the pines were close enough to overhang the fence. The ground was also drier and harder, but the thick layer of pine needles ought to show tracks clearly enough. Under Finn’s critical glare, Deryn crouched and started to examine the area.

There was nothing, not even scuffs where Finn had made the repairs.

After five fruitless minutes she looked up at him. “Are you sure it was here?”

“Course I’m damned well sure.”

Unconvinced, Deryn studied the fence. Sure enough, a section had been repaired, but it was not as distinct as she would have expected. The newer branches were the same dark color as the rest. She stood and faced the farmer. “The new bit you did is wet.”

“So?”

“It hasn’t rained this morning.”

“I know that.”

“When did they get wet?”

“Yesterday.”

“You fixed the fence yesterday?”

“No. A bit before that.”

“A bit?”

“I couldn’t leave it open until you decided to show up.”

“I’ve come as soon as I got word.”

“Makes a nice change.”

The patronizing tone did nothing to soothe Deryn’s growing anger. She took a few seconds, in an attempt to stay calm. “When did the sheep go missing?”

Finn pouted at her, for the first time seeming less sure of himself. “Five days ago.”

“Five!”

“I had to wait until young Ailie was going into town for supplies to take the message.”

“All the tracks will have been washed away.”

“I didn’t know it was going to rain.”

“Like rain’s such a rare occurrence. What fucking use is there in calling me out now?”

Finn shrugged. “What fucking use is there in calling out the marshal’s men at any time?” He stomped away back to his farmhouse.

Deryn turned and walked in the opposite direction, giving him time to get well away and herself time to calm down. If she remained within knife-throwing range of the farmer, she could not guarantee her self-control.

The soothing influence of the wilds started to work on her. Trees rustled overhead, the boughs creaking in the breeze. A distant woodpecker hammered out staccato bursts. The air was heavy with moisture and rich with the scent the forest. Deryn stopped and rested her shoulder against a trunk.

Mainly out of habit, she scoured the ground for tracks. The dense forest had shielded the ground from the worst of the weather, but the only footmarks were human and a few sheep, no doubt from where Finn had rounded up his stray flock before mending the fence.

Deryn clenched her teeth, fighting back the fresh wave of anger. If Finn had made any attempt at an apology for wasting her time, Deryn would have done more—a rogue bear in the neighborhood ought to leave traces easy enough to spot—but she was not feeling the slightest degree of goodwill toward the farmer, especially considering that she had volunteered for the job largely to stop Nevin taking his cider.

Deryn turned her head and looked back at the farmhouse. Finn was safely out of sight. After a final cursory glance at the section of repaired fence, she went to reclaim Tia for the short ride back into Neupor.

A mile below Finn’s farm Deryn passed a junction where a side trail led off, climbing the hillside to the west. She remembered it from her way out. Now she reined Tia to a stop and followed the route with her eyes until it vanished into the forest. Her gaze continued to rise higher, over the ranks of green firs to the mountain above.

The last of the morning’s clouds had blown away, leaving a clear blue sky arching over Mount Pizgar. A long ridge ran down from the peak in the direction of Neupor, cut with a deep V midway along. The break was a likely looking pass, and the side trail appeared to be heading straight for it. If that was the case, the trail would surely join up with the main Neupor to Oakan road on the other side of the mountain.

Deryn smiled. Why not take the scenic route home? There was definitely nothing in Neupor worth rushing back for.

*

A forest fire had swept through the pass some years before. Deryn emerged into the area of open grassland it had left behind. All that remained of the previous tree cover were the black fingers of charred stumps, pointing at the sky. Young trees had sprouted, but they were still too low to cut off the light, or to restrict visibility. The tall grasses and clumps of wildflowers had taken over, for the while. Deryn slipped off Tia’s back and left the mare to graze. A small knoll to one side of the path provided a good vantage point to take in the scenery. The panoramic view had definitely been worth the detour.

Pine-covered mountains filled the skyline on all sides, fading into the purple distance. The air was so clear the white peaks looked as if they had been cut with a razor. A half mile ahead, the trail plunged back into the forest, descending the mountainside’s rolling contours to the broad valley below, filled with a patchwork of small farms. The road to Oakan was just discernible, cutting a straight line between the fields. Deryn felt as if she stood on top of the world, that she could reach out and touch the sky.

The view was reminiscent of that from her childhood home, in the mountains way to the south of Oakan. As the comparison struck her, she pursed her lips. Normally the memory was one she would work to dismiss immediately, but she now found more comfort than grief in the raw beauty of the scene. Had time taken the edge off the pain? The mountains and open spaces were where she belonged. This was the home of her heart, the only home she would ever have and the only home she needed.

A gentle breeze pushed ripples though the lush grass and dried the sweat on Deryn’s face. The day was turning out to be unseasonably warm, although a dark band of cloud lined the horizon. More rain was on the way, but it raised no immediate cause for concern. Hours would pass before it reached her.

After a second of thought, she strolled over to Tia and removed the saddle. Why not take a proper break? Tia deserved the rest. Deryn could use it as well. Her bunk at the marshal’s station was as comfortable as if the mattress had been stuffed with pebbles. Between that and Ross’s snoring, she had not been sleeping well.

Deryn returned to the knoll and lay down on the grass, using the saddle as a pillow. The sky was brilliant blue, with just the faintest wisps of high cirrus. The soft breeze carried the scent of grass and sagebrush. The chirp of crickets made a background to the trill from a songbird and the occasional snort from Tia.

Suddenly, Deryn heard footsteps. Someone was walking through the grass, coming in her direction. Nobody had been in sight when she lay down, and the open hillside offered no nearby hiding place. How could anyone have reached her so quickly? It was not as if the person was racing toward her. The pace was the gentle, rhythmical swish of a slow stroll, with no suggestion of threat, yet something about the sound made Deryn’s heart pound in her chest. She jerked up, twisting onto her knees, while at the same time reaching for the knife in her boot.

Less than a dozen steps away, her mother was sauntering across the hillside. In her hand was a small log, like the one used for target practice back in Neupor. Deryn felt her mouth go dry and sweat break out on the back of her neck. However, her mother seemed totally unconcerned. She stopped by Deryn’s side, taking in the view, and then pushed the hair back from her forehead. The gesture was so familiar. Despite all the years that had passed, Deryn would have known it, would have recognized her mother, even if she had not seen her face.

“It’s nice here.”