Wolfbane (Historical Fiction Action Adventure Book, set in Dark Age post Roman Britain)

Wolfbane (Historical Fiction Action Adventure Book, set in Dark Age post Roman Britain) Read Free

Book: Wolfbane (Historical Fiction Action Adventure Book, set in Dark Age post Roman Britain) Read Free
Author: F J Atkinson
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now. Without warning, it bounded towards him again. This time though he was ready for it, and so able to roll aside with a practiced dexterity. As he regained his feet, he stabbed at its passing flank. The bear was untroubled by the jab.
    He cursed silently as it approached him again. He knew its weight alone would be enough to crush him, should he fail to avoid another of its charges. However, it was to change its approach and this suited Dominic. Now it approached him slowly, swaying its head from side to side in a threatening display. Suddenly it struck out with a massive talon-clad claw. He met the lunge with his sword, piercing its thick forearm.
    His experience in combat had taught him to take advantage of any moment, no matter how fleeting, afforded him by an enemy. Now was such a time as the creature paused for a heartbeat to run its flickering gaze over its injury. Hoping he could intimidate the bear into a retreat, he shuffled nearer to it, but this was his mistake. Incensed, the bear struck again with an horny claw—the swipe renting through the fabric of his jerkin to leave four crimson lines. These quickly expanded in thickness to leave one bloody band. The force of the attack had spun Dominic, but he ran from the creature’s reach, head bowing towards the floor as he pumped his short legs to arrest his fall. He turned to face the bear, but it had not charged. Instead it moved slowly but purposely towards him, its dexterous lower lip dripping saliva.
    Dominic knew he had been within a finger’s width of disembowelment. He sensed that the thick fabric of his tunic had saved him. Vain in nature, he would have time enough later to mourn the ruination of a garment which had cost him five beaver pelts. His thoughts raced. Go away you hairy shit; you must have better things to do. You don’t want my stringy old meat. His musings soon turned into a shout. ‘Take your cub grizzled one, I’ve no interest in it, go! GO!’
    Waving his arms above his head to make himself big, he continued to shout and growl at the bear. In response, it raised itself upon its hind legs so that it now towered above him, its enormous bulk fading out much of the light.
    It seemed invincible, but suddenly became disinterested in him. Content that its display of dominance was sufficient; it dropped back to its paws, turned casually, then trotted into the thicket beside the tree. Its cub followed.  
    Dominic’s ordeal was over as suddenly as it had begun. He slumped back, exhausted and panting—his eyes on the bush where the bear had left. When his breath returned, he picked up his bow, pushed his wolf hat to a rakish angle, then continued on his way.
     
    Two days passed without further incident until in the early afternoon he came to the river. It was a landmark for him, marking what he guessed was the two-thirds point of his journey, and it gave him supreme satisfaction to see its calm, green waters swirl towards him. Up river, his route seemed benign. Knee-high grass carpeted the narrow flood plain beside the water and grew in an undulating swathe from the water's edge to the encroaching forest. Across the river, the trees grew thickly up to the banking; and Dominic was happy to be knee-high in the grass, rather than in the thick scrub opposite. He filled his hat with water from the river and dumped it upon his hot head. The water’s relieving coolness was invigorating, and he shivered with pleasure as the droplets wormed their way down his back.
    He scratched at his shallow abdominal wounds and began to walk alongside the river. He met little resistance from the loose grass and for the rest of an uneventful day made good progress towards his goal. That night, his camp was comfortable beside a low fire. Sleep soon came to him.
    Yet as a traveller of many experiences, he was never far from wakefulness. Three hours of sleep had passed for him when a faint splashing in the otherwise quiet river had him awake and onto his feet in a

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