Ontogeny

Chapter 5a

Wilterland was a drier land than Helberion. Most of the rain crossing the continent in this direction was diverted by the mountains, and the land they entered as they descended the southern slopes of the Grantens was almost desert. Yellow grass covered the ground, interrupted by the occasional stunted tree and large boulder. A cold wind blew across it and the men pulled their tunics close around their necks for warmth. They had long since used up the last of the trail rations they'd brought from Alby, the last town they'd passed through, and had finished off the last of the goat meat at last night's supper. There was nothing larger than a small village on the path they would be taking through Wilterland. Nowhere they'd be able to buy food for a long expedition overland, so the first thing they did was to divide up into a number of hunting parties, leaving Quill and Malone to guard their camp.

"You know, the city of Balmiss is just fifty miles or so to the west of here," said Crane as he knelt to examine some rabbit droppings. "Beef. Pork. Mutton. As much as we want. We could eat like kings all the way to Mekrol."

"The Brigadier doesn't want to attract attention," replied Tallion. "Besides, it's too far out of our way. What's your name again?"

"Crane," replied Crane. "You know? The tracker?"

"I didn't know we had a tracker. How long have you been with us, then?"

"This is my first mission with you. Your last tracker died, remember?"

"No. Who was he, then?"

"I thought you were one of the old timers. Been with the Brigadier for years."

"Yeah. We go back a long way, me and the Brigadier. Real chums, we are. Close as brothers."

"But you don't remember the name of your last tracker?"

"Didn't know we had a tracker. So are you any good?"

"Well, I can tell that the rabbits here aren't worth catching. Thin and scrawny. Not much more than a mouthful in each one."

Tallion gave a snort of disdain. "Hell, even I can tell that, just from the state of those droppings. If you were a decent tracker you'd be able to lead us to the fat, juicy rabbits."

"There aren't any fat, juicy rabbits around here. Just look at what they've got to eat. I'm surprised there're any rabbits here at all."

"There're supposed to be pheasants in land like this." Tallion looked around the desolate landscape, the wind blowing his straggly black hair like the pennants flying from the walls of a castle, as if his large, muscular body was a fortress that could resist the might of an invading army for weeks. He lifted a hairy, thick veined hand to shade his eyes from the brightness of the sky as he scanned the horizon.

"Not as good as turkey," he continued, "but better than scrawny rabbit. Partridge. Grouse. All good and tasty. Forget the rabbits, go find us some grouse."

Crane stood, arching his back to ease the cramp. "Their burrows will be that way, where the soil's deeper," he said. "I'll put a few snares out, then we'll go take a look over that hill." He reached into a pouch and took out a coil of thin wire, some of it bent and twisted from having been used before.

"Will there be partridges over there?"

"No, but there might be some wild goat."

"I'm fed up with goat. I want some partridge. A nice bit of white meat. My father knew some good recipes for partridge. 'Course, you've got to hang it for a few days to get the best from it, and you need some seasoning. Pepper and garlic's best, but I could do a very nice stew with a bit of nutmeg, or even parsley and ground saffron if we had any."