‘But if you’re running away,’ he called down to the fawn, ‘you’re going in the wrong direction. You won’t get through up ahead. Crak, Crak.’
With that the raven lifted into the air and was lost in the trees, cracking and cawing as he went.
‘Wait. Come back,’ cried Rannoch. ‘What do you mean?’ But the raven was gone. Rannoch was left alone thinking to himself that he had never met such an insulting creature in all his life. The bird hadn’t even said thank you.
By the time Rannoch made his way back to the clearing the others were awake and preparing to leave. The hinds had breakfasted on some acorns and a small juniper tree nearby. Bracken scolded Rannoch for wandering off again but she was too full of thoughts of the journey to be really angry. Bhreac was readying the others, talking to the hinds and encouraging the calves.
‘Well,’ said Shira, ‘which way now?’
‘We’ll keep going straight ahead,’ answered Bhreac.
‘Come on, we better get moving.’
At this Rannoch stepped forward.
‘I don’t think we should go north,’ he said as importantly as he could, then imitating the bird, ‘We can’t get through that way.’
The calves, all except Willow, were very impressed by this but Bracken just nudged Rannoch gently.
‘How do you know, my dear?’ she said, smiling.
‘A raven told me,’ answered Rannoch brightly.
Some of the fawns giggled and Bracken licked the little deer.
‘Of course a raven told you,’ she said gently, for she assumed that Rannoch had had another of his dreams.‘Now don’t you worry. Bhreac knows best.’
‘But Mamma. A raven really did tell me.’
The hinds had no time for Rannoch’s story and, with Bhreac and Bracken taking the lead, they pressed on through the trees. The forest began to open out and they made good progress. The trees were thinning and the ground was rising, so that the deer could see a long way back over the path they had taken. Ahead there was a break in the forest over a wide stretch of ground and then the trees began again, banking very steeply upwards. Bhreac was leading the deer out into the open when Fern called from the back.
‘Quick,’ she cried, ‘down there. There’s something moving through the trees.’
Bhreac and Bracken ran back to take a look and Bhreac nodded gravely. She had seen a flash of movement through the branches. A deer was coming towards them and, though it was still quite a way off, they could clearly see it was running fast.
‘Hurry,’ whispered Bhreac, ‘across there. It will be easier to tell who it is if we get some height.’
So the hinds began to run across the open ground, the fawns going as fast as they could. The group disappeared again into the far trees and paused to look back. The deer was coming on. They were going to move off again when
Bracken suddenly stopped them.
‘Wait,’ she said, ‘I think it’s a hind.’
‘You’re right my dear,’ said Bhreac, ‘and she’s not alone. There’s a fawn with her.’
‘Bankfoot,’ shouted Rannoch delightedly.’It’s Bankfoot and Canisp.’
By the time Canisp and Bankfoot reached the open ground the others had made their way back to the edge of the far trees. Rannoch and Tain hopped up and down as Bankfoot puffed up to them.
‘My dear, how did you get away?’ cried Bhreac. ’We thought we had lost you.’
‘No time,’ panted Canisp, ‘they’re coming. Up through the wood. Bankfoot and I found it easy to track you through the snow. So did the Draila. I saw them in the distance when we entered the trees. They can’t be far off. What shall we do?’
‘That’s obvious, my dear,’ cried Bhreac.’Run. For your lives.’
The hinds and fawns turned as one and dashed up the slope into the trees. They rose quickly, stumbling and tripping as they went, but pushing on regardless. At a snowy outcrop of rock that broke a hole in the sparse webbing of forest, they paused and looked down. The calves began to tremble. On the open ground below, three stags were standing, looking round them and scenting the breeze. Bhreac recognized them as captains from the Draila. Then, coming from the lower forest, another stag appeared, and another, until, on the grass beneath them, there were at least twelve stags, their antlers lifting and nodding as they pawed the ground and scented their quarry.
The hinds ran on almost blindly, darting and weaving in and out of the trees, pausing only to help up their calves. Peppa was desperate as she ran and Bankfoot, though he kept up with Rannoch, was puffing badly. The ground was rocky and the loose earth slid under their hoofs and slowed them down. Again the trees began to thin, which would have been a help to their flight if the snow hadn’t fallen thicker here, so much higher up, and turned icy, making the deer slip and slide as they went. They were beginning to tire when Rannoch suddenly stopped.
‘What’s that?’ he whispered.
The hinds had heard it too and now the deer were bunching together and listening in the approaching twilight. Through the trees, from somewhere up ahead, they heard a great rushing sound. It sang like a wind.
Rannoch and Tain ran forward with the hinds and the deer gasped as they reached the edge of the trees. In front of them they saw a sight that stole their hopes away. They were on the edge of a ridge where the ground suddenly plunged away, disappearing into a sheer gulf. The chasm was at least three trees wide and the deer backed away fearfully as they looked over the beetling ravine. The walls were of smooth rock and in the gorge below a river ran fast and angry, bubbling over the huge boulders that dotted its path. The deer were completely cut off.
‘What now?’ panted Shira, looking out desperately across the void.
Even Bhreac was at a loss.
‘They’ll be on us soon enough,’ said Bracken.
‘My little ones,’ cried Fern, as Peppa and Willow peered over the edge.
The hinds shuffled about nervously on the ridge until Bhreac spoke again.
‘Bracken, you take Rannoch and try and skirt back down behind them,’ she said. Then she lowered her voice. ‘We’ll go back and give ourselves up.’
‘No!’ cried Bracken.
‘My dear, it’s the only way. We’re lost. Look.’
In the trees below, a trail of antlers was weaving upwards.
‘Go quickly,’ said Bhreac. ’Get Rannoch away. Rannoch? Where is he now?’
Bhreac looked around and saw the little calf further off, near the edge of the ravine. He was rigid and shaking, his head lifted in the air.
The hinds looked up as they suddenly heard a squawking and cawing high above Rannoch’s head. In the cold blue a large black raven was wheeling high above them.
‘Rannoch. What are you doing?’ snapped Bhreac.’Come here. You must hurry.’
‘Wait. Wait,’ said Rannoch as he nodded at the bird.
‘Quickly,’ he cried suddenly.’There’s a way over. Along here.’
‘What do you mean a way over?’ said Bracken.’How do you know?’
‘There’s a bridge,’ said Rannoch, though the raven had hardly had time to tell him what a bridge was.’Please trust me.’
The calves looked wonderingly at Rannoch, but Bankfoot suddenly piped up.
‘P-p-p-please, do as he says. If he says he knows the way, he does.’
‘Well, he did know the way would be blocked,’ said Shira, who was desperate to run anywhere.
‘There,’ shouted Fern.
The hinds turned to look back down the hill and shuddered as they saw the antlers not ten trees’ length below.
‘All right, Rannoch,’ said Bhreac, ‘lead the way.’ Rannoch turned and ran west through the trees, with the hinds and the fawns following him as fast as they could. He kept to the edge of the ravine. The path of the river that had gouged its way through the soft stone hundreds of centuries before, was a twisting one and the deer wound left and right, following its rough contours. At last, though, they came to a bulge in the ridge where the gorge nar
rowed very slightly and here, amidst a crop of thick and snowy bracken, Rannoch stopped and looked ahead proudly.
In front of him, strung high across the ravine, was an old rope bridge. It was pinned into the earth by four wooden stakes at each end and it sagged badly in the centre. But though it had been put there and forgotten nearly fifty years earlier, its planks were still in place, covered now with a thin layer of snow.
‘There,’ cried Rannoch.’I told you so.’
The other fawns were talking excitedly as Bracken and Bhreac came up beside him.
‘So you did, my dear, so you did,’ said Bhreac gravely, ‘though for the life of me I don’t know how. But we’ll leave that till later. Now we must take them across.’
‘Who will go first?’ said Bracken nervously.
As she stood there, she smelt a scent that made her shake. It was old and faint but it was a smell that she had been taught to fear from as early as she could remember. The smell of man.
‘Let me,’ cried Rannoch, filled with pride at the thought of leading the deer out of danger.
Before Bhreac or Bracken could stop him Rannoch had run forward and was standing on the edge of the bridge. The fawn paused as he looked down into the plunging ravine but then, very gingerly, he stepped out onto the first plank. The bridge shook under his weight and the planks quivered, dislodging their powdery covering.
Rannoch waited until the bridge was still and then he took another step and another. His legs were shaking badly and as he looked down he felt his stomach fall into the gulf. The air around him was cold and there was a great up draught of wind that filled his ears with thunder and made him dizzy and sick.
Rannoch looked straight ahead and kept going. Step after step he took, until he was right out above the centre of the ravine. The bridge had originally had two ropes on either side, one at about the head height of a hind and the lower rope level now with Rannoch’s eyes. From these lower ropes thin lines of cord held the planks in place, but the lower rope on the left-hand side of the bridge had worn through and broken and its trailing tendrils hung down into the abyss. Here new bits of cord had been attached to the higher rope to hold the planks in place, but they were few and far between. There was little to stop Rannoch plunging over and as the fawn went he kept well to the right, with only the thin lower rope to hold his course.
Bracken and the others watched him from the near bank, their hearts in their mouths. But by the time Rannoch was beyond the middle of the bridge he felt calmer and the ringing in his ears had stopped. He was even exhilarated and his senses began to open as he mastered his fear. The fawn started to walk more quickly, till at last he was nearly running. But just as he neared the far side there was a great crack.
The whole bridge shook and Bhreac and Bracken started as Rannoch slipped. One of the planks near the end of the bridge was rotten and Rannoch’s back legs had gone straight through. The fawn’s front body slammed onto the bridge and he rocked sideways, only prevented by the thin rope and the bits of cord from falling to the rocks below. Rannoch scrambled forward desperately with his front hoofs scratching and scraping at the wood.
Slowly he pulled himself up again and clambered on. As his body pressed on the ropes he saw the wooden posts in front of him shudder. But at last he was safe. He had made it to the other side.
‘Well done, Rannoch,’ shouted Bankfoot.
‘Come on,’ called Rannoch breezily. ‘It’s easy.’
Bankfoot was the next to try the bridge, followed closely by Canisp. When the fat little fawn reached the break in the bridge he started to tremble terribly but Rannoch shouted encouragement from the bank and eventually Bankfoot leapt over it and ran to join his friend. Then came Fern, with Peppa and Willow. Morar and Quaich came next, then Shira and Tain, Alyth and Thistle and finally Bracken and Bhreac. It was a strange sight to see the hinds and their fawns crossing the terrible void and when old Bhreac reached the other side she snorted with relief.
‘I’m far too old for this sort of thing,’ she panted. ‘I’ve never been so frightened in all my life. But I made it.’
‘Maybe for nothing,’ said Morar. ’Look.’
Bhreac swung round to see the Draila standing on the far side of the ravine. They were gathering at the verge and the leading stag had dropped his antlers and was edging out into the gulf after him.
‘What do we do now?’ said Canisp.
‘I know,’ cried Rannoch.
The fawn ran up to one of the posts that was holding the lower rope in place. He started butting and bashing the post with his head.
‘What’s he doing?’ said Bracken.
‘Come on,’ cried Bhreac, ‘follow Rannoch.’
The hinds started to kick and bash at the posts themselves and they began to ease loose. Three Draila were nearly in the middle of the bridge by now but they stopped, for the bridge was quivering badly, and slowly, trying to keep their balance, they began to retreat.
Suddenly they lurched and nearly tipped into the ravine. There was a singing sound and the bottom right-hand post came free. With it the lower rope snapped and then they all began to snap, whipping round and lashing through the air. The last Draila just made it to the bank as, with a terrible crack, the rope bridge broke completely and clattered into the ravine below.
The fawns cheered as the stags snorted and stamped the ground angrily.
‘Hinds, you’ve escaped us for now,’ cried the lead Draila furiously over the gulf. ‘Make the best of it. We’ll find a way round and we’ll never be far behind.’
With that he turned angrily and led the stags back down the hill.
On the far side of the ravine the hinds were overjoyed. The fawns had gathered round Rannoch and were cheering and complimenting him. Even Willow smiled when he looked at her. The little fawn smiled back happily. For some reason he felt a new pride in the fawn mark on his head.
6 Man
‘Here the crow starves, here the patient stag Breeds for the rifle.’ T. S. Eliot, ‘Rannoch, by Glencoe’
The hinds and their fawns spent their first night of real freedom in a gully near the bridge. It was still bitterly cold but they had some shelter from the wind and a fresh, clean stream gave them all the water they needed. The calves were elated. The tension that had existed between them before had snapped like the ropes on the bridge and now they talked and played happily together. They began asking questions about one another and Rannoch, Tain and Bankfoot did a lot of showing off.
Peppa kept quizzing Rannoch about the mark on his head, which she thought was splendid and, though Rannoch had little to say on this subject, Bankfoot wouldn’t stop regaling them all with the story of how Rannoch had helped him by the stream and had found the path back to the meadow. But talk of the home valley made Quaich miserable and after a while the fawns became subdued again and sleep wasn’t far to follow.
The hinds grazed in a group close by. They were all exhausted, as much by fear and its release as by the journey itself. Canisp’s front hoof was hurting and Morar was a nervous wreck but, for the first time in three suns, at least the hinds felt safe. They would have slept too but their minds were still buzzing with the events at the bridge and Rannoch’s part in them. It was Alyth who broached the subject first.
‘You know, I believe he really was talking to that raven,’ she whispered as she chewed thoughtfully on the cud.
‘The Prophecy?’ said Shira.
‘Nonsense,’ said Bhreac immediately.
‘Well there’s something special about him, prophecy or no prophecy,’ said Fern.
‘Yes, and you must admit that the mark is very strange,’ added Morar fearfully.
Bracken looked nervously at the other deer for, since that night when she had lost her own fawn, her only wish had been to protect Rannoch and to hide him away. Canisp saw the fear in her eyes.
‘Well, I don’t really believe in prophecies,’ she said quietly, ‘but if a fawn mark in the shape of a leaf means that in some way he is protected b
y Herne, then it is a blessing.’
A gust of wind licked round the edge of the gully and suddenly made the place howl so that, with the mention of Herne, the hinds shuddered.
‘Stuff and nonsense,’ said Bhreac suddenly.’These are tales for young fawns, not sensible deer. Anyway, the Prophecy plainly talks of a changeling. Rannoch is no changeling.’
She looked nervously at Bracken. Bhreac had already decided that revealing anything of what she knew about that terrible night would only make the hinds more frightened.
‘Besides, what good will it do us? With talk of prophecies who is likely to take us in? We mustn’t speak of it again.’
The hinds nodded and looked back towards their sleeping calves.
‘But there’s something else,’ whispered Bracken fearfully.
‘That bridge. Did you smell it?’ Bhreac looked back gravely.
‘Yes, my dear. We are close to man.’
With that the hinds fell silent and soon they too settled down to sleep until the morning broke bright and brittle around them. They travelled north-west, leaving the ravine behind them. The ground dropped away steadily, the trees disappeared and they soon found themselves in a narrow valley in a region of low-lying hills. The snow was less thick here and their pace would have been good if they hadn’t now been confronted with the problem of food. Only Quaich and Peppa were still suckling and the other fawns were growing and needed as much nourishment as possible. But as they had come through the trees they had had little chance to browse or look for berries and now they spent much of their time scraping and digging in the snow to get to the grass beneath. When they did so they found it meagre and tasteless, with very little goodness in it.
At Bhreac’s suggestion two of the hinds scouted ahead, returning regularly to report what they had seen. It was a strange feeling for the hinds to be acting like Outriders. The calves travelled in a group, flanked by their mothers, except for Quaich who always kept to Morar’s side. It was close to Larn and the deer were nearing the end of the valley when Bhreac pulled them up. Fern and Shira, who had been sent up ahead, were racing towards them. The fawns immediately saw the fear in their eyes.