Trinity Rising: Book Two of the Wild Hunt (Wild Hunt Trilogy 2) Read Free Page A

some restraint after all; such a shame he hadn’t demonstrated more of it over the last three years.
    Ytha watched him walk back into the circle of firelight. His warriors were on their feet the instant they saw him, although some were less than steady and had to cling to their companions for support. Soon the Crainnh’s chief-to-be was lost in a shouting, back-slapping mob, roaring their praises to the night sky.
    She did not stay to listen to the speech; she had heard it often enough in the last week as she made Drwyn recite it over and over again to be sure he knew it by heart. Besides, it would not take much to sway the Crainnh. Drw’s face was still fresh in their memories; a few fine words and familiarity would do the rest.
    No, the real test would be at the Gathering, when the silver moon next rose new. Then he would have to speak before the other clan chiefs and it would take more than a family resemblance to bring them into line.
    Still, that was a way off yet. The silver moon, the one they called the wanderer, had barely begun to wane; they had plenty of time. For now she had to fetch him a woman. Drawing her fur mantle around her, Ytha stepped out into the darkness.

3
    TEIA

    Teia lifted the boiling kettle off the fire with a forked stick and emptied it into the bucket, careful not to splash herself, then refilled it from the other bucket and set it back to heat.
    Mentally she divided the stack of greasy platters beside her into two. One more bucketful and the dishes would be done, thank the Eldest. Her hands were dishpan-red, the tips of her fingers almost numb from scrubbing at dried gravy.
    Dunking a stack of plates into the bucket of hot water, she set to with the sand. She’d lost count of how many she’d washed already and she hadn’t even had her supper yet. All the other unmarried girls had had theirs, then drifted away one by one to watch the young warriors wrestle, leaving her, the dutiful one, to finish their chores as well as her own. She sighed and tilted the plate towards the light to check for spots she’d missed, then put it to one side. Complaining about the others’ idleness wouldn’t get the dishes washed any sooner, but she’d make sure their mothers heard about it in the morning.
    When the water was too dirty to be useful, she dipped a finger in the kettle. Barely warm. She had enough time to fetch fresh water. With a bucket in each hand she trudged out of the circle of tents towards the stream.
    Gradually the roar of the fire and the war band’s raucous laughter faded into the whispery night sounds of the plain. The wandering moon was a little past full, silvering the tall grass so brightly that she could see almost as clearly as in daylight. Habit took her a few yards downstream of the watering place to empty the buckets, then she walked back up the stream-bank to the shallows and refilled them.
    The water was deliciously cool on her sore hands. Looking around to see if anyone could observe her shirking her duties, she knelt down and plunged her arms into the stream to the elbows. Wonderful. The sand on the bottom was soft as fine wool. Her hair fell forwards around her face, blocking out all but the faintest glow of moonlight, trapped like fireflies in the rippling water.
    She stayed like that for as long as her aching shoulders could bear it, then sat back on the bank and dried her hands on the hem of her dress. No one would miss her for a few minutes more. After the smoke and stink of the camp the plains breeze was refreshing; all she’d been able to smell for two days was elk-grease and ashes.
    Teia glanced towards the fire. Poor Drw. Gone now to the Hall of Heroes to sup with his greatfathers. Not for him a glorious death on the field of battle, but his shade would have a tale to tell nonetheless. Carried to Maegern on a woman’s sigh.
    I’m tired now, Teia. I think I’ll sleep .
    Tears pricked at her eyes and she blinked them away. Farewell, my chief .
    Even with the wind