His uncle feeling lazy, Odayla went to hunt on his own. He hadn't much luck
as there was little game stirring, a fact which annoyed him but did not
alarm as it should. So he went on, muttering over the lack of game &
peering about for something to hunt. Then he saw Rigtania's daughters, a
Telaara on all fours sniffing along his tracks keenly watched by two
Mralaarae who bent at times to strop their tusks on tree trunks.
'This' he thought 'is not to the good.' Quietly he broke track slinking
into the undergrowth, only to come face to beak with a Gathaara that cawed
for her sisters who came crashing through the bracken. Odayla bolted & the
Telaara howled behind him. From early morn to Elmal high he fled them but
they hunted as the spawn of Telmor do, one taking the place of the other to
run down their victim & ever he heard the crow call of the Gathaara urging
her sisters to the kill.
He took to the water hoping to baffle the wolf-nose & he heard the pursuit
fade. Panting he lay in the creek where it trickled over the dam & the
beaver waddled past stopping only to slap its tail. Odayla followed, over
the dam, into the pool, & last into the lodge.
He did not go unnoticed. A weight settled on the lodge. A voice croaked
without. Something began tearing at the roof. Odayla slid down the slip
back into the pool following the beaver under the surface til he could go
no longer.
He breached between two cranes that flared their wings & darted their beaks
at him but he had no time for birds, for thrashing through the shallows,
snouts black with the mud of the dam, were the Mralaarae. The cranes turned
to this new threat, wings spread & beaks closed. This display gave the wild
ones pause, enough for Odayla to dash for the storm blaze upslope of him.
On the track to his father's stead he felt himself safe, but his nieces'
hate would not be stayed. A black cock started from cover, calling as it
flew. From the ferns behind it rose the growling form of the Telaara & he
ran again. From the height of the day til dusk he ran. Chivied from Oak, to
Willow, to Elder, across lawn & through brake. If he paused he heard the
grunts & snuffles of the Mralaarae. In desperation he scrambled up an Oak,
startling the squirrel in its branches. Inspired by its flight he followed
through the canopy til he found a large crook in which he curled & looked
back along his leafy trail.
He could see the Mralaarae, heads hideous when wed to such lissome bodies,
shinning swiftly up the tree he clomb. Below him the Telaara looked up.
Scent or hearing it didn't matter she knew he was there. Even as she got
her forearms over the second branch Odayla was off. Dropping to the ground
he stumbled off. Heedless of what was in front he hurtled through the
gathering dark stopping only when he bounced off a large, rank, hairy body.
The bear was as shocked as he & reared back bellowing at this being that so
affronted it. Odayla scooted through its legs as the Telaara, nose down &
ignoring all but the scent, crashed into the hapless bear. She yelped as a
swipe opened five scores on her buttocks but Odayla was not there to see,
he was making good time for the secret trail. The secret trail was held to
be know only to Orlanth & his house. It was made for stead access in direst
emergency, but the wild ones were there when Orlanth first came & had
watched in wonder & in anger as the god carved their world to make his own.
On the secret trail he jogged along hoping to be home before full night.
It was the scolding of the wrens that had him look at the brambles ahead.
The flicker of movement in their depth had him off the path & running
before the Gathaara croaked her first call. Into the gloaming he fled,
hounded by his terrible kin. As he fled he came into the open downs, nearer
but still far from home. As he sped panting across their slopes the hares
feeding there fled him. They too ran frantic but would leap prodigiously to
the side & then remain still. Cresting the hill Odayla made like the hare.
A huge leap left & then lie still. The wild women broke the skyline, four
human silhouettes until the profiles showed. Then confusion. The scent
trail was lost & no figure ran through the gloom ahead. But these were no
beasts to slacken if one sense failed. Casting in increasing circles the
four were bound to find him. An uproar started him from his hide. The
Gathaara had stumbled apon a badger & being of its kind it latched on & was
not loosing its hold. Odayla ran.
Twice warned he did not relax even as he could smell the hearth fires. An
eerie piping had him frozen, staring into the dark. A pair of wood duck
rose from their night nest & into the trees. One shadow, two, three detach
from the larger shade. All upright but the heads look wrong. Odayla goes to
his belly & slithers off into the grass. Creeping, crawling, listening for
he cannot see, Odayla inches his way to the stead gate. It, of course, is
closed but hammering & yowling get the guards attention & that of others.
Four shapes fling themselves at him but the gate is open & Elmal comes
forth. The wild ones flee & Odayla has a boast Eurmal envies.
Darvall
madamx_at_mikka.net.au
>From quiet homes & first beginnings
Out to the undicovered ends
Theres nothing worth the wear of winning
But laughter & the love of friends.
Hilare Belloc
End of The Glorantha Digest V8 #117
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