Read Online Ghost Hunter by Michelle Paver, Geoff Taylor - Free Book Online
Authors: Michelle Paver, Geoff Taylor
Tags: General, Historical, Juvenile Fiction, Science Fiction; Fantasy; & Magic, Horror & Ghost Stories, Prehistory
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Mountain clans always follow the reindeer. If we're lucky, we'll meet them."
Torak didn't reply. He wanted to crawl into the Forest and hide.
Wolf came to lean against him. Torak slipped off his mitten and sank his fingers into his scruff. Wolf licked his wrist: a brief flash of warmth, snatched away by the wind.
"And remember," said Renn, "she wants you to find her."
"But not you," said Torak. "And not Wolf, or Rip and Rek."
"She tried to separate us. She failed."
"She'll try again."
Together they stared across the fells. A howling wind sent spears of snow streaming toward them. Go back, go back!
The ravens loved it. They swooped and soared in the fierce, cold, empty sky. Rek spun somersaults, while Rip folded his wings and plummeted onto a rise, landing in a puff of snow, flipping onto his back, and rolling down the slope. At the bottom he shook his wings, flew to the top, and started all over again.
Wolf gave a wuff! and bounded after him, but Rip hopped onto the wind and lifted out of reach. Wolf stood on the rise lashing his tail, gazing down at Torak. His
86
fluffy pelt was spangled with snow, and his eyes were bright. Let's go! he yipped.
Their eagerness gave Torak courage. He turned to Renn. "I think we can do this."
She opened her mouth to protest.
"All we've got to do," he said, "is find the reindeer."
She pointed at the fells. "How?"
"We've got a wolf, two ravens, your Magecraft, and my tracking skills. We'll find them."
They didn't.
For three days they labored over the fells without seeing a single hoof print. The flat white light made it impossible to judge distances, and the Mountains got no closer, while the fells proved even more formidable than they'd looked. They were seamed with gullies, frozen lakes, and iced-up thickets, some chest-high, others only ankle-deep, but always forcing them into a zigzag course. In places, they floundered through snowdrifts, while on ridges, the wind had blown away the snow to the pebbly ice beneath.
They tried to keep east, steering by the sun and the stars, but clouds defeated them, and they were led astray by what looked like reindeer, and turned out to be boulders.
They survived because of what they'd learned in the Far North. They wore masks against the glare,
87
and rubbed their faces with Renn's marrowfat salve to prevent windburn. They dug snow holes for shelter, and snared a ptarmigan and ate it raw, saving whatever twiggy firewood they could gather for melting ice. They kept their gear inside the snow hole so it wouldn't get lost in a drift, and their waterskins in their sleeping-sacks, to stop them from freezing. Nights were cold. They dreamed of stacks of beautiful, dry wood.
On the third day, they spotted people in the distance, and hurried to meet them--only to find a man made of turf. He was bearded with icicles and his outstretched arms were antlers, supported by a spear in either hand. He didn't feel threatening, just oddly welcoming.
"Some kind of guardian?" said Renn. "Maybe the Rowan Clan's--they build their shelters out of turf."
"Then they made him last autumn," said Torak. "There's moss on those antlers." He scanned the fells. The Forest was long gone. All he could see were white hills. Beneath his boots, snow hid the ice which sealed off the land. Eostra had not relaxed her grip. And she was watching him.
"Dusk soon," said Renn. "We need to stop."
They camped under the gaze of the turf man, in the lee of a hill by a frozen lake ringed with scrub. Renn said she would dig a snow hole, then try a finding charm for the Mountain clans. Torak went to set fishing lines and snares. Their supplies were down to a handful of hazelnuts, and
88
so far they'd only caught a single ptarmigan.
Wolf trotted off to hunt, followed by Rip and Rek, who clearly thought he had a better chance than Torak.
On the lake, Torak hacked holes with his axe, then fed in juniper hooks on pine-root twine he'd brought from the
Torak didn't reply. He wanted to crawl into the Forest and hide.
Wolf came to lean against him. Torak slipped off his mitten and sank his fingers into his scruff. Wolf licked his wrist: a brief flash of warmth, snatched away by the wind.
"And remember," said Renn, "she wants you to find her."
"But not you," said Torak. "And not Wolf, or Rip and Rek."
"She tried to separate us. She failed."
"She'll try again."
Together they stared across the fells. A howling wind sent spears of snow streaming toward them. Go back, go back!
The ravens loved it. They swooped and soared in the fierce, cold, empty sky. Rek spun somersaults, while Rip folded his wings and plummeted onto a rise, landing in a puff of snow, flipping onto his back, and rolling down the slope. At the bottom he shook his wings, flew to the top, and started all over again.
Wolf gave a wuff! and bounded after him, but Rip hopped onto the wind and lifted out of reach. Wolf stood on the rise lashing his tail, gazing down at Torak. His
86
fluffy pelt was spangled with snow, and his eyes were bright. Let's go! he yipped.
Their eagerness gave Torak courage. He turned to Renn. "I think we can do this."
She opened her mouth to protest.
"All we've got to do," he said, "is find the reindeer."
She pointed at the fells. "How?"
"We've got a wolf, two ravens, your Magecraft, and my tracking skills. We'll find them."
They didn't.
For three days they labored over the fells without seeing a single hoof print. The flat white light made it impossible to judge distances, and the Mountains got no closer, while the fells proved even more formidable than they'd looked. They were seamed with gullies, frozen lakes, and iced-up thickets, some chest-high, others only ankle-deep, but always forcing them into a zigzag course. In places, they floundered through snowdrifts, while on ridges, the wind had blown away the snow to the pebbly ice beneath.
They tried to keep east, steering by the sun and the stars, but clouds defeated them, and they were led astray by what looked like reindeer, and turned out to be boulders.
They survived because of what they'd learned in the Far North. They wore masks against the glare,
87
and rubbed their faces with Renn's marrowfat salve to prevent windburn. They dug snow holes for shelter, and snared a ptarmigan and ate it raw, saving whatever twiggy firewood they could gather for melting ice. They kept their gear inside the snow hole so it wouldn't get lost in a drift, and their waterskins in their sleeping-sacks, to stop them from freezing. Nights were cold. They dreamed of stacks of beautiful, dry wood.
On the third day, they spotted people in the distance, and hurried to meet them--only to find a man made of turf. He was bearded with icicles and his outstretched arms were antlers, supported by a spear in either hand. He didn't feel threatening, just oddly welcoming.
"Some kind of guardian?" said Renn. "Maybe the Rowan Clan's--they build their shelters out of turf."
"Then they made him last autumn," said Torak. "There's moss on those antlers." He scanned the fells. The Forest was long gone. All he could see were white hills. Beneath his boots, snow hid the ice which sealed off the land. Eostra had not relaxed her grip. And she was watching him.
"Dusk soon," said Renn. "We need to stop."
They camped under the gaze of the turf man, in the lee of a hill by a frozen lake ringed with scrub. Renn said she would dig a snow hole, then try a finding charm for the Mountain clans. Torak went to set fishing lines and snares. Their supplies were down to a handful of hazelnuts, and
88
so far they'd only caught a single ptarmigan.
Wolf trotted off to hunt, followed by Rip and Rek, who clearly thought he had a better chance than Torak.
On the lake, Torak hacked holes with his axe, then fed in juniper hooks on pine-root twine he'd brought from the
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