If Ćlfritha had been short-tempered, she would have been cursing by now. Deorlin's short cut had brought the pursuers into the forest rather than around it, their progress now a pitiful, forelorn strawhope.
The horses were contending with torgues and twists of tree roots, gravelled and muddy and water-rutted roads, even diverging paths and routes. They had camped by the Snowbourne for the first night and had risen with dawn, but the forest was swallowing any advantage they had gained in time.
Ćlritha could barely see Deorlin ahead of her, for he had riden on ahead, wanting to find a direct path. Anglachel had remained with the main group.
"At least he knew how to run a tracking group," thought Ćlfritha to herself. "Interesting how the skills of the market and trade come out in a different context."
Yet she remained frustrated. Precious time was being lost as well as the other riders. Malienna she could hear behind her and Maikadurion, but she had lost track of Izręnna in the last few minutes. And Hading was so far behind that he had not answered calls. Nor was it helpful that the forest was still dark with the haze of night.
Suddenly, up ahead, Anglachel called out, his voice echoing around the trees.
"There's a glade up ahead. Let's regroup there and wait for the stragglers to arrive."
Ćlfritha patted her mount, reassuring him, and rode forward, taking care to give Doric more line on the tether which ponied him. Worry sat in her stomach like a heavy meal, weighing her down. If she couldn't recover her horses, it would be a bleak year for her family.
[ January 04, 2003: Message edited by: Bethberry ]
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I’ll sing his roots off. I’ll sing a wind up and blow leaf and branch away.
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