shot at the animal, but the closer they approached the forest, the harder it became to distinguish the scarlet droplets of whale blood hovering in the air among the foliage.
Deeper into the forest, the young hunters rested in a small clearing. While the brothers settled down, Murphy went in search of a stream to replenish their water supply. The forest grew thicker with every step, and the sky was barely visible through the trees. After crossing a steep slope, Murphy reached the stream and filled the canteen. Before he left, he followed the stream and found that in the distance the forest was thinning and the ground rougher. As he surmised, this meant only one thing: there were mountains nearby.
Returning to his team, Murphy was just in time for the meal his brothers had just begun. The young man joined them, cracked a tortilla and began to talk about what he had found.
– I was by the water and guess what? It runs from the mountains, – he said cheerfully.
– What do you mean by that? – Brian asked.
– That we won’t lose the whale’s trail, which, by the way, is starting to blur, – Murphy answered excitedly.
– But the road is much better in the woods than in the mountains, – Ryan remarked.
Murphy was surprised that the question about the road came from his younger brother who had little to do with the carriage and was, therefore, the last person to complain. Suppressing his resentment, Murphy continued:
– I agree, Ryan. The ground here is much better and nicer, but the forest ahead is getting thicker, the wagon will pass between the trees, and the sky can only be seen with one’s head up. It didn’t look like the whales were passing through the forest, more likely they went around it, keeping close to the mountains where there’s more open space. Besides we can’t get our bearings in the foliage and it’s easy to lose track of the whales, and we might just get lost ourselves. So, what do you say?
Though Murphy was addressing both brothers, the question was addressed to Brian. He was the eldest, and therefore stronger, more experienced and better versed in some matters. Brian’s word always carried more weight, and more often than not it was the deciding one. He didn’t like the prospect of going up into the mountains, but it was a very smart decision, and even though the boy wanted to stay in the forest, he couldn’t make a valid argument for it.
– I think it’s a good idea. It would be difficult to walk, but at least we wouldn’t lose the pack, and that’s all that matters, – Brian said in the end.
The hunters finished their meal in silence, save for the distant calls of birds, the faint rustling of insects and the crunch of dry twigs made by small animals invisible to the eye.
They gathered their belongings, loaded them into the wagon and started on their journey, which was not going to be an easy one. Following the path that Murphy had taken in search of water, the hunters slowly but steadily began to climb up the slopes. This time no one rested and everyone had to work. Even if only one person was pulling the wagon, others were helping to overcome the obstacles on the slopes or the roots of trees protruding from the ground which the wheels occasionally clung to.
When they reached the stream where Murphy had filled the canteen, they decided to rest and regain their strength, but there was not much time for that – the day was short in autumn. The hunters kept moving forward as the sun was dipping below the horizon and darkness was setting in.
The boys managed to leave the forest before it was completely dark. Being in a small waste ground between the forest on the left side and a low rock wall on the right, the boys could see the road ahead because the moon had come out.
The ground underfoot became rougher, the grass less frequent and the stones appeared. Soon the road dropped away, and beyond the rocky wall there was a small passage that led up into the mountains, and there the cliffs were already visible. The carriage was shaking from side to side, though it was not easy to pull as it was.
At last the hunters decided to stop for the night and continue early in the morning. They were very tired, hungry, and the weather was changing. The temperature was dropping during the night and it was much colder in the mountains than in the forest. They found a flat place where there were not many stones. Walking through the forest, they had gathered firewood and now made a fire, though not at the first attempt.
Laying thick skins, wrapped in which they would sleep, the boys warmed themselves by the fire. As they were barely settled, they heard a sound that had disturbed them more than once that day. It was the sound of small stones rattling against each other. It was not easy to determine where it was coming from – the sound echoed from all directions in the area. It was clear that the rocks had crumbled and therefore the sound was coming from somewhere above.
Someone was coming down to the young hunters.
Without thinking, Murphy snatched an arrow from the wagon; it was an arrow with a drop of whale blood dried on the tip. Brian, unlike Murphy, was not so cold-blooded and acted hastily, but tried to hide his fear. He pulled out the first tool he could get his hands on that could be used as a weapon, it was a hammer. Ryan armed himself with a small knife, taking it out of its sheath tucked into his boot.
Everyone was extremely tense. The sound grew, heard closer and closer. In an instant the surrounding echo fell silent, and one could hear where the rustle was coming from. All at once the hunters turned to the sound.
The sound was coming from a man. From behind a large stone, in the shadows, a man with raised hands indicated that he had come with good intentions. In the darkness one could make out a silhouette, but one could not be sure whether it was a man or a woman.
– Who are you? – Brian asked in an extremely unfriendly manner that was unexpected to him. He spoke first, though he was just as frightened as the others.
– Show yourself! – Murphy said more calmly and composed. – Come out into the light! And no nonsense.
Without lowering his arms, the man slowly approached the boys. With each step the figure became clearer and clearer. He stepped into the light, but was at a safe enough distance and the boys could see his face.
He was a middle-aged man, dressed in good, appropriate clothing. Over his shirt he wore a leather waistcoat with pockets and clasps. Long leather gloves tightened tightly with straps. He wore various sized pouches securely fastened to his belt and a flask of what was probably water. A dagger sheathed in a sheath was also visible on his belt, and compared to that Ryan’s knife was no more than a toothpick. He wore coarse, large boots, and strapped boots, too. He carried a huge wicker bag over his shoulder.
In the dim light of the fire the man spoke:
– Guys, calm down. I didn’t mean to frighten you, much less hurt you…
– Tell tales! – Ryan interrupted the stranger, gripping the hilt of the knife in front of him tightly.
The man wanted to reply, but only smirked. Murphy, outwardly cool, was beginning to panic, realizing that the brothers were provoking the stranger.
– Calm down, – he commanded, but it was unclear to whom he was addressing, his own or the stranger. – Now. Who are you? You have not told us your name.
– I am Nigel, the hunter. – He nodded at the wagon beside it and continued: – So are
