The Icebound Land- Character Reaction

37

Ulf passed the book to his brother who scowled, still irked by his failed plan. Ulf smirked at him.

EVANLYN WAS CONCENTRATING HARD. THE TIP OF HER TONGUE protruded through her teeth and there was a small frown on her face as she began to trim the piece of soft leather to the correct shape. Cassandra smiled fondly at the mention of her sling.

She couldn't afford to make mistakes, she knew. She had found the piece of leather in the stable lean-to and there was only just enough for the purpose she had in mind. It was soft, supple and thin. There were other odds and ends of harness and tack in the shed but they were dried out and stiff. This was the piece she needed.

Evanlyn was making a sling. Duncan hid a smile.

She had finally given up trying to learn any skill with the bow. By the time she could hit the side of a barn, she thought, she and Will would have been long dead from hunger. She sighed. Being brought up as a princess had definite disadvantages. She could do fine needlework and embroidery, judge good wine and host a dinner party for a dozen nobles and their wives. She could organize servants and sit for hours, straight-backed and apparently attentive, through the most boring official ceremonies.

"Barely," Cassandra said now. Duncan raised an eyebrow, and she shrugged. "You can't tell me you enjoy them."

All valuable skills in their right place, but none of them was much use to her in her present situation. She wished she had spent a few hours learning even the rudiments of archery. The bow, she admitted ruefully, was beyond her.

But a sling! That was a different matter. As a little girl, she and her two male cousins had made slings and wandered through the woods outside Castle Araluen, hurling stones at random targets. She recalled that she had been pretty good too.

"Yes, random targets are fine until they become the guards," Duncan said with amusement. She grinned.

"I had to try something else."

On her tenth birthday, to her intense fury—Halt snorted—her father had decided that it was time for his daughter to stop being a tomboy and to begin to learn the ways of a lady. The wandering and slinging ceased. The embroidering and hostessing began.

Still, she thought, she could probably remember enough of the technique to serve her now, with a little practice.

She smiled a little, remembering those privileged days at Castle Araluen. They were a far cry from all this. These days, she had new skills, she thought wryly. She could drag a pony through thigh-deep snow, sleep rough, bathe a lot less frequently than polite society might think appropriate and, with any luck, even kill, clean and cook her own food.

"All valuable skills," Halt said gravely. Thorn nodded, and Hal rolled his eyes.

"You're only agreeing because it's talking about not bathing frequently," he said.

"That's for the dirty," Thorn huffed, and Hal grinned.

That is, of course, if she could get the damn sling right. She shaped the soft leather patch around a large round stone, wrapping the stone in it and pulling the soft leather tight to create a pouch. She wrapped and released over and over again, forcing the shape of the rock into the leather. Her hands were starting to ache with the effort and she seemed to recall that, as a child, servants had done this part for her. Cassandra grimaced.

"I'm not really much use, am I?" she said to herself.

"Not much?" Will looked at her incredulously. "Evanlyn, without you, I would have died. You were much more use than you think you were." She gave him a small smile of gratitude.