Will in Scarlet Read Free

frozen, the men might have paused to appreciate the beauty, but as it was, they were eager to turn south toward home. Back to warm fires and heavy blankets and bed.
    Geoff had just given the signal to turn back when Hugo held up his hand. Sitting up tall in his saddle, he tensed, listening for something.
    “What is it?” asked Will’s uncle.
    “He’s realized he’s frozen off his necessaries and wants to backtrack to find them, my lord,” laughed Osbert.
    “Quiet!” said Geoff.
    They listened for a moment. At first all Will heard was the wind on the hills; then he heard something more. An animal howl.
    “They’re on the moor,” said Hugo, hefting his boar spear.
    “Probably laughing at us while we gathered nettles in our backsides all night long,” said Osbert, scowling at the woods.
    Geoff steered Samson to the front. The rest of the horses seemed anxious, pawing at the ground. Bellwether was already straining against her reins. Only Samson stood iron-still, steadfast.
    “Hugo, you take that closest hill,” said Geoff. “See if you can’t flush them out to us.”
    “Won’t need to, my lord,” said Hugo. And he pointed to the closest rise.
    Will squinted. Even with the bright moon, it was hard to make out details in the dark. The hill’s crest was a ragged silhouette of rocks, but when several of the rocks moved …
    “They’ve got our scent,” said Geoff.
    No sooner had his uncle spoken than the moor began to echo with howls. Two, three, more and more.
    That’s when you know you’ve gone from hunter to hunted
.
    “God’s blood,” swore Osbert. “How many are there?”
    “Even half dead with hunger, they won’t try six men together on horseback,” said Geoff. “Stay in formation and use the boar spears. Watch your horses’ flanks.”
    The pack rushed down the hill but stopped within a stone’s throw of the mounted men. Their hackles raised, they snarled and snapped at the air but would come no closer. The horses whinnied with worry.
    Will counted nine of the beasts, including a large coal-black leader. They were sad, wiry things except for him. He had meat and muscle on his bones, having earned his pick of the kills.
    “On my mark!” said his uncle. “Charge!”
    Geoff spurred Samson forward, and they all pulled ahead as one. The wolves scattered at the men’s charge but did not retreat. Hunger kept them in the fight.
    Hugo drew first blood, skewering one on his boar spear. It died with a quick yelp. Osbert missed his as the creature dashed between his horse’s legs, leaving the old man’s spear stuck in the frozen earth and a curse on his lips.
    Out of the corner of his eye, Will saw Geoff run down another, trampling it beneath Samson’s hooves. But Will couldn’t focus on the hunt for long. He was busy holding Bellwether’s reins tight. She wanted to bolt from the battle, and it took all of Will’s strength to keep her within the circle of riders.
    His ears rang with snarls and cries, with men’s shouts and the stomping of hooves on the frozen ground. Will’s mouth had gone dry, and his heart beat wildly in his chest.
    Geoff’s orderly charge dissolved into chaos as men and wolves clashed on the moor. Will found himself cut off from the rest when the big black one bore down upon him. Bellwetherreared up to try to avoid the black’s snapping jaws, even as Geoff turned Samson to come to Will’s rescue. But the black snapped Bellwether on her hind leg. She let out a cry and she kicked out with all her might, sending the wolf rolling into the dirt.
    But there was no calming her now. She bolted away from the fear and pain straight into the woods, heedless of the path. Will lost the reins in her charge, and all he could do was hold on to her mane as she barreled through the trees and brush. Branches swatted his head and scraped his cheeks, but still deeper into the wood she galloped.
    Will was reaching forward with his left hand, groping blindly for her bridle, when a sturdy