Season of the Wild Hunt(Book 1 of The Seventh Gate series)

Cat and Rabbit

Music: Wolf Blood by Adrian von Ziegler

Nyani picked up the blanket they had dropped and pulled it round their shoulders as they settled beside the dead fire in the clearing. No one made any move to take their blades away again, or to bind their hands. Sunlight filtered through the colourful canopy and bathed the clearing in mild warmth, but a chill breeze from the north agitated the forest, picking up fallen leaves and swirling them in anxious flurries.

With the adrenaline draining from her body, all she wanted was to simply lie down and pass out, but she forced herself to focus. Donn bent down and picked up their sawn-through bindings from the ground, then hurled them to one side with a muttered curse. He listened while Keiran spoke quietly to him, both glancing in the women's direction several times.

The rest of the men filtered into the clearing, moving quietly about their business. The fire was rekindled, and Aedan set a large pot over the flames. He took cloth-wrapped flatbread from saddlebags and a large, heavy-looking skin, pouring its contents into the pot. The men were grim-faced as they sat cleaning their weapons. They must have been on some sort of raid - Nyani remembered thinking that the sound of clashing metal had woken her earlier. The last to enter the clearing were Trahern and Murtagh, carrying Dafydd's blanket-shrouded body. They laid it gently down to one side.

No one spoke to the women, but suspicious looks were cast in their direction. In turn, Nyani used the time to observe them more closely, cataloguing every detail about them just as she would have assessed a prey herd. They had been in a fight - their weapons were bloody, a few sported bruised faces, and one was having a slash on his arm washed and bound. They all looked weary, but none appeared to be grievously wounded.

They were all dressed in a similar manner; hooded cloaks and thick leather tunics over woollen shirts in muted browns, greens, and grey, although Nyani noted small differences. The clasps fastening their cloaks varied from man to man - some were of simple wood or metal, others more intricately designed, or with a gem set into the centre. Their weapons appeared plain and serviceable, sword-hilts wrapped in leather age-worn and comfortable with use, but here and there warm gold gleamed in the decorative inlay on guards and pommels, and in the heads of battle-axes. They did not have the uniform appearance of Runihura's soldiers, and they moved with an economy that reminded Nyani more of one of her father's, or later Mirran's, scouting parties that patrolled their northern border from time to time.

Despite a light-headed sensation of detachment and the grim atmosphere, Nyani couldn't help but being fascinated by one thing in particular about these northerners - their hair. They ranged from Keiran's pale gold through to blue-black, with a couple of fiery reds in between, and some of them - like Aedan - also wore full beards. She had to remind herself not to stare. Others only had short stubble, such as Kei, Donn, and the raven-haired one called Murtagh.

The other raven-head was, Nyani thought, the one who had watched them so closely last night. Something about him snagged her attention as he stood next to Donn, talking quietly with him. He was not quite as tall, more slightly built perhaps, and he used his hands expressively as he talked. He had an olive tone to his skin, a neatly trimmed beard, and penetrating dark eyes. There was...something about him. As if he sensed her scrutiny, he turned to look at her. So did Donn. Nyani was uncomfortable under their double gaze, but she did not drop her eyes, either.

Keiran seemed less ill at ease with them than the others did, and came over to offer the skin of poitín again. Ashira made no attempt to charm him, but they both thanked him.

"Call me Kei," he said. "Before anything else, I mean before they question you... I would thank you for coming to help. For myself and for Dafydd." He hesitated a moment, and briefly laid a hand on Ashira's shoulder. "And my thanks for your prayers."