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you.’
    Cabryce forced herself through the door and
between them in a colourful blur.
    ‘Go find your own wife Beartooth,’ she
stated assertively.
    ‘Once he’s gone. I will . . . for sure.’
    Beartooth ran his eyes over Cabryce once
more and Malkrin emitted a roar similar to a wildcat giving warning to an
adversary. He clenched both fists and Cabryce snatched each clump of rigid
fingers.
    ‘Indoors Malkrin. Now .’
    But first Malkrin watched Beartooth
disappear down the lane toward his elderly parents’ hut. Then he allowed
Cabryce to guide him back to his chair. She latched the door tight and stooped
before him with arms around his neck and gently caressed his rigid shoulders.
    ‘Do we need to pack our things . . . To
travel?’
    He let out a deep breath and shrunk into
the seat cushion.
    ‘No. No. They’ll just take one highsense sun
from me.’
    He gripped her hand as she stared with
glistening eyes. ‘ I’m sure , my love, it has always been so.’
    ‘I would have come with you Malkrin.’
    ‘I know Cabryce, but whatever happens you
cannot.’
    ‘I will. If your highsense finally leaves you
– I will.’
    ‘You must promise me you’ll stay. It’s safe
here. I must search for Jadde, to ask for her to return her blessing.’ He
reached behind his shoulder and gripped her hand. ‘And I must do it alone.’
    Long seconds passed then reluctantly she
nodded. ‘I promise. Now tell me what happened today.’

 
     
     
    CHAPTER TWO
     
    ‘ M alkrin Owlear you have been found guilty
before the Council of Brenna. Your fellow hunters have testified under oath to your
crime.’
    The ancient Brenna warrior Bredon the Fox
stared with cataract misted eyes to Malkrin.  He forced himself to stare ahead,
refusing to meet the Fox’s gaze and so to respect his authority. He looked
instead to the solemn Council, appearing impassive although below the surface he
seethed with injustice. The assembly of eight decrepit and wizened elders were dressed
in their leather ceremonial finery.  They eyed Malkrin intently, the gravity of
his crime written on their time-worn faces.
         Malkrin returned their stares coldly.  He
was numbed at how quickly his failure had escalated to the trial in Jadde’s
Great Hall of Justice. This was the only crime warranting a full session of the
council.  The Goddess Jadde had written the laws all those lifetimes ago, when
she had the survival of the Seconchane foremost in her thoughts. Malkrin was
sure the Brenna had distorted her laws, how could it be this serious to have a
few breaths lapse in his highsense? After all he could just become an ordinary
hunter – and still be a good one he was sure.
         His father had taught him many skills
and he was certain some of them no one else knew. This hunting lore had added
to his hero status because Malkrin had kept the tricks to himself. He
remembered his father saying; it’s all passed on from Owlear father to Owlear son
and it is part of your inheritance. It will help save a hunt on days the game
is spooked. He had taken Malkrin into the woods and grassy mountain plains to
practise. Malkrin had been a willing learner and aided by his developing
highsense had quickly picked up the lore.
         Now in Jadde’s Great Hall black
thoughts engulfed him. Would he be outcast and not able to help his friend Halle
after all? Could the hunt feed the whole of the Seconchane without him? He
created a small highsense to watch the confidence leave him like steam from a cooling
meal. What is the use of a highsense that could do that – none, he thought
angrily, and refocused on the wrinkled face of Bredon the Fox. The old man pointed
a gnarled finger at Malkrin, and then cleared his throat to announce the Council’s
verdict.
     ‘I sentence Malkrin Owlear to losing one
of his two highsense lives.’ The Fox wheezed and coughed, ‘for a fading talent
is a grievous loss to the Seconchane.’ The finger trembled as if Malkrin was