Chapter 1

The first hunt of the season was always hard. This year especially – the woods had become tangled and vicious in the spring and summer months, and the deer hid easily from Luke as he crept along narrow sheep paths. The dull roar from the river Morgan drowned out all but the loudest sounds, but Luke had learnt not to rely on his ears when hunting anyway.

It was the end of the second week of the first hunt of the season for Luke – he had unwillingly embraced the mantle of joint-breadwinner with his father since his mother had died, leaving him a widower and father of four children, of which Luke was the eldest. The youngest child, a girl – Emily – was only 8, and the twins – Jacob and Louise – were thirteen. Luke was aged 17, just a year off manhood himself.

Luke’s father, John, ran the village flour mill, grinding the grain grown by the farmers to be sold to the baker – or back to the farmers at a lower rate. The meat from Luke’s hunting during the colder months was sold to the village butcher, Mat.

He slipped silently between the trees, bow drawn tight, arrow notched and the fletching tickling his ear. The doe he was aiming for was on the edge of the group as they settled to graze. This was his last opportunity to earn a profit from the hunt before returning to the mill for four weeks – he had to make at least one kill or risk his siblings dying during the winter months.

Just as he took aim, a flurry of birds in the trees overhead startled the peacefully grazing deer, and shook Luke’s concentration – he loosed the arrow and it whistled over the heads of the staring deer, causing them to freeze, looking for the source of the noise. He quietly notched a further two arrows, and loosed them in quick succession – catching two does straight in the chest, and causing the rest to scatter.

He stepped forward, quickly cut the throats of the unfortunate deer, and, slinging them over his shoulders, he hiked back along the narrow paths to his camp. On reaching his camp, he rolled his bedding and pushed it to the bottom of his pack, followed by the mess tin he used for cooking, his flint and steel, the hide quiver he kept his bow and arrows in, and his sapling-poled tent.

Tying the limp deer to the top of his pack, he lifted it onto his back, and set out for home.

It was a half-day trek back to the village from the Lorenberg Ridge – the forested mountain pass Luke hunted on – and he knew he had to be at least on the outskirts of the village by nightfall.