“What a clever thing to say,” Athlan declared sardonically. “That’s almost as good as ‘the early bird gets the worm.’ Of course, I don’t eat worms very often, so it doesn’t hurt my feelings too much if I happen to miss them.”
The darkness gradually faded as the light along the eastern horizon grew almost imperceptibly brighter.
“They’re out there, all right,” Athlan said. “I can make out four or five deer already.”
“Fairly small, though,” Longbow replied, “probably just fawns. The bigger ones are most likely farther out in the meadow.”
“I’m starting to get hungry, Longbow,” Athlan complained.
“Breakfast’s only about a hundred paces away, Athlan,” Longbow assured him.
Athlan could see farther out into the meadow now, and he was a bit surprised by how many deer were grazing out there, and it seemed that every time he blinked, there were still more.
“That one,” Longbow declared. “It’s just on the other side of that tree snag.”
Athlan peered out into the meadow and finally located the large, massively antlered deer Longbow had chosen. “He’s a big one, all right,” he whispered, “but he’s a long way out there, don’t you think?”
“I can reach him,” Longbow said confidently.
“Now this I want to see,” Athlan said. “I wouldn’t waste an arrow trying to hit a deer who’s that far away.”
“You should learn to trust your bow, Athlan,” Longbow said, slowly rising to his feet and peering on out across the still dimly lighted meadow. Then he nocked an arrow and smoothly drew his bow. Then he released it, and his arrow arced out over the meadow in the faint predawn light and struck the large deer he had chosen. The deer dropped as if the ground had suddenly been cut out from under him.
“Amazing!” Athlan exclaimed. “I’ve never seen a shot like that before! That deer had to be at least two hundred paces away.”
“Closer to two hundred and fifty,” Longbow replied. “Of course, there’s no wind blowing, and that made it easier. Did you want to take one as well, Athlan? There are still plenty of deer out there.”
“The one you just took should be enough, Longbow. It’s a fair distance back to our camp, and your deer’s probably heavy enough to wear us both out by the time we drag him there. Of course, I suppose we could just camp where he’s lying and eat on him for the next week or so.”
Longbow shook his head. “Let’s get him back in the shade,” he said. “If we leave him out in the sun, he’ll start to rot before too long.”
It took the two of them until almost noon to drag the heavy deer back to their camp, and then they went through the tedious process of skinning the large buck-deer.
“How in the world did you ever learn to shoot arrows that accurately, Longbow?” Athlan asked. “Was it maybe Dahlaine’s sister who gave you instructions?”
“I’ve never met Zelana,” Longbow replied. “She doesn’t really like people, so she went off to the Isle of Thurn a long time ago.”
“Now that’s very unusual,” Athlan said. “Dahlaine—her older brother—wanders around up here in the north country all the time. He comes up with a lot of silly ideas, and we’re supposed to obey his orders. You don’t need to tell anybody that I said this, but the gods are very foolish sometimes.”
“As far as I’m concerned, they can be just as foolish as they want to be,” Longbow replied. “I know what I’m supposed to be doing. I kill the creatures of the Wasteland, and I’ll keep on killing them until I’m old and grey. It’s the only reason that I’m alive, and if I stay at it long enough, I might be able to kill them all.” There was a kind of intensity in Longbow’s voice and a bleak look on his face that sort of filled Athlan with awe.
They remained in their forest camp for the next several days, and then Longbow decided that it was time for him to take his canoe and go on back home.
Athlan stood on the sandy beach watching as his strange new friend paddled his canoe on out into deeper water and turned south. For some reason, Athlan was almost positive that they’d meet again. “And maybe next time, I’ll be the one who takes the deer,” he muttered to himself.
2
Early in the autumn of that year Athlan discovered a small cave in the south side of a wooded hillock a mile or so to the south of Statha. After some thought, he decided to abandon his lodge out in the forest and move into the cave. Lodges were traditional in Tonthakan, of course, but Athlan was positive that a cave could not fall down no matter how strongly the wind blew.
Winter held off for some reason that year, and the hunting was very good in the vicinity of Athlan’s new home. He was quite certain that his new residence was the finest place for him to dwell in all the world.
It was just after the first significant snow in that year when a young hunter named Zathal came through the forest to advise Athlan that his father had recently died. “It didn’t seem to anybody that he was sick or anything like that, Athlan,” Zathal said. “He was busy chipping out some new arrowheads, and he suddenly grabbed his chest and then fell over dead. Chief Kathlak sent me out here to find you and to tell you that we’ll go through the burial ceremony tomorrow, if that’s all right with you.”
“Tell Kathlak that I’ll be there,” Athlan replied shortly.
The ceremony took most of the day, naturally. Athlan’s father had been a mighty hunter, and the men of the tribe made many speeches praising him. The sun was nearing the western horizon when the ceremony concluded, and Chief Kathlak joined Athlan at the side of the grave. “Will you be returning to Statha now?” he asked.
“I don’t believe so, My Chief,” Athlan replied.
“The fathers of the young women of the tribe won’t pester you now, Athlan. Your time of grief will last for as long as you want it to. You can keep them away from you, if that’s what’s bothering you.”
“That’s not why I won’t be coming back, My Chief. I’ve found a quiet place to live, and the hunting’s very good there. In a peculiar sort of way, I’m almost grateful that those fathers drove me away from Statha. I’m a hunter now, and I don’t need—or want—company. If a war comes along, I’ll be here to help as best I can. Otherwise, I’d prefer to be left alone.”