Fionn: The Stalking Silence

  ***

  By mid-afternoon, it was clear that they had lost the trail. Presumably alarmed by the presence of so much human activity, the deer had warily moved on, departing from its normal feeding territory and moving further into the Great Wild. It soon became evident that it was headed for the dense forest to the north-west where there would be little chance of finding them.

  The hunters halted to discuss their options, disgusted by such a poor outcome after a long period stalking the animals. Disheartened, it took but a brief discussion for both to agree to return to Ráth Bládhma. Aodhán would, no doubt, grumble at their lack of venison but it was better that the settlement were informed about the fian even if they did return empty-handed.

  No longer constrained by the need to stalk their quarry, the pair knew that they could now make good time and, if they pushed themselves, there was a good chance of reaching the ráth by nightfall. Despite their eagerness for the comfort of the hearth, however, the threat of the fian’s potential return prompted Liath Luachra to ignore the direct route. Opting instead for a more circuitous path, the hunters followed the hills, staying inside the trees and avoiding any open flat land. Later that afternoon, her caution proved well founded when Bearach, who’d taken the lead, slipped on a loose section of snow while hurriedly traversing a stretch of open terrain. Tumbling face first into a nearby drift, he spluttered and brushed the snow from his face, then struggled to his feet.

  ‘Liath Luachra!’

  The hoarseness of the boy’s voice would have alerted the woman warrior but, running close behind him, she’d already spotted what he’d seen; the worn trail of footprints. Twenty or thirty men. Moving in single file.

  Frowning, she studied scuffed up tracks in the snow for the second time that day. Her lips pressed tight together as she went down on one knee, slipped a hand out of her mittens and scooped up a handful of snow. After sniffing she threw it aside and stood up again.

  It was the same party. She was sure of it. Here and there, she recognised distinctive markings from the trail encountered earlier that morning: an uncommonly wide boot heel, the one-sided imprint of someone with a limp in their left leg, a sharp triangular impression of a damaged spear haft shaft used like a staff. On this occasion, however, the party was headed in an easterly direction, directly opposite to the one it had taken that morning when departing An Bealach Cam.

  Which meant they’d curved in a wide semi-circle, looping back onto their original track.

  Now why would they do that?

  Her curiosity prickled, an incessant itch too deep beneath the skin to be effectively scratched.

  They can’t be lost. The sky is clear and they can work their direction from the sun.

  Brushing the snow from her knees, she glanced south in the direction of Glenn Ceoch.

  Bearach cleared his throat nervously.

  ‘These tracks are fresher. Less than two hours old. We should get back to the ráth and alert them.’

  Liath Luachra stared around at the empty landscape. Black, forest coated hills, broken here and there by white patches of snow. Apart from the long trail of broken snow there was no other evidence that the fian had passed this way.

  ‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘We stay Out.’

  Bearach stared, surprised by this sudden change in plan. Liath Luachra, however, continued to survey the surrounding landscape. Finally, her gaze ceased to drift, focussing in on one of the many forested ridges off to the south-west.’

  ‘Up there.’ She glanced at Bearach. ‘I found a cave to the left of that cleft on the ridge last year. It won’t be comfortable but it’ll serve as shelter for the night.’

  The youth continued to regard her in bafflement. Suddenly, his eyes flared with comprehension.

  ‘The snow. They might see our tracks.’

  ‘Leading them straight back to Ráth Bládhma.’ Liath Luachra nodded. ‘A fian that big, they’ll have scouts out, covering the vanguard and flanks. We’ve been lucky so far. We’ve missed them on two separate occasions.’

  She twisted her shoulder, adjusting the arrangement of the javelins strapped across her back.

  ‘But this set of tracks is more recent. They’ll be closer.’ She nodded decisively to herself as though agreeing with the logic of her own conclusions. ‘The best thing we can do now is to go to ground. Leave as little evidence of our existence as possible.’