Read Online Once Upon a Winter's Night by Dennis L. McKiernan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Dennis L. McKiernan
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Camille, uncertain as to what else to say or do, but by no sign did the huge being respond to her call, and he remained bent in an attitude of obeisance. The Bear grunted in seeming acknowledgment of the individual’s deferential bow, and the crofter then straightened and watched as the Bear and his rider passed without stopping, continuing on up the slope. And when they topped the rise at the far end of the vale to start down into the valley beyond, Camille looked back to see the man—if a man he truly was—once again sitting with his back to the tree and the scythe across his knees.
That evening, Camille stripped and bathed, this time in a chill, deep pool of a wide, slow-running stream, the Bear standing ward and looking everywhere but straight at her.
On the third day within the brightly hued wood, they passed along deep river gorges and high chalk bluffs and through thickets and mossy glens, the land rising and falling as they went. And whenever they topped crests or went along cliffs where Camille could look afar, in every direction but where they were she saw the bright woodland fade into distant twilight, just as the forest had shaded into silver-grey gloam in the Springwood and perhaps in the Winterwood as well, though where they had passed through that cold realm, only dismal darkness had ruled and twilight would not have been seen. But this was neither the Winterwood nor the Springwood, but the Autumnwood instead, and always in unexpected places did they come upon groves of fruits and nuts and fields of flax and barley and millet and other grains. And this day as well they crossed plots of loam bearing beans and peas, leeks and onions, pumpkins and squash, and carrots and parsnips, as well as vines of hops and grapes, none of which seemed to be growing wild.
And as they fared through the bountiful forest, with its generous stands and glens and glades and fields, so, too, did other denizens slip through the woodland as well, some running along limbs, others scuttling across the ground, some flying above—birds and animals and wee folk alike, or so Camille did ween. Of huge crofters, Camille had sighted none since yester; nevertheless, she believed that they were about, but chose to remain unseen; mayhap they were shy.
And thus did the grizzled Bear and golden-haired Camille travel and live off the land, eating berries from vines, and grain from the grasses, and vegetables from the loam, as well as fruit from trees. For in the Autumnwood ’twas harvesttime—eternal Camille did think. Still, she wondered whether the fruit and other such ever replaced itself, and if so, then how did it manage the feat, for without winter to rest and spring to renew and summer to ripen, how could harvest continue without all eventually becoming barren?
Ah, but this is Faery, where mystical things are said to occur. I will have to remember to ask Prince Alain about such, assuming that Alain is a bit like his brother Borel, and not some monster instead.—Oh my, I should have asked Borel what Alain was like. Ah, but he and his pack were after that terrible Troll and had no time for my girlish chatter. Oh, but I do hope Borel and his Wolves are safe.
In the eve, when they had camped and Camille’s kindled fire brightly burned, in the darktide beyond the reach of the flickering light she could see eyes glittering and now and again catch a glimpse of movement: foxes and lynx and other night hunters, some, it seemed, with riders astride; too, there were moving glimmers among the trees, somewhat like the dancing lights of the Springwood, though here in the Autumnwood, the gleams seemed to proceed as if in solemn ceremony instead of in carefree joy. As the night wore on, now and again something large with a heavy tread would pass by in the dark unseen, and at these times Camille looked to the Bear, but he appeared unperturbed, and though her heart did beat with excitement, it did not gallop in fear.
Late on the fourth day
That evening, Camille stripped and bathed, this time in a chill, deep pool of a wide, slow-running stream, the Bear standing ward and looking everywhere but straight at her.
On the third day within the brightly hued wood, they passed along deep river gorges and high chalk bluffs and through thickets and mossy glens, the land rising and falling as they went. And whenever they topped crests or went along cliffs where Camille could look afar, in every direction but where they were she saw the bright woodland fade into distant twilight, just as the forest had shaded into silver-grey gloam in the Springwood and perhaps in the Winterwood as well, though where they had passed through that cold realm, only dismal darkness had ruled and twilight would not have been seen. But this was neither the Winterwood nor the Springwood, but the Autumnwood instead, and always in unexpected places did they come upon groves of fruits and nuts and fields of flax and barley and millet and other grains. And this day as well they crossed plots of loam bearing beans and peas, leeks and onions, pumpkins and squash, and carrots and parsnips, as well as vines of hops and grapes, none of which seemed to be growing wild.
And as they fared through the bountiful forest, with its generous stands and glens and glades and fields, so, too, did other denizens slip through the woodland as well, some running along limbs, others scuttling across the ground, some flying above—birds and animals and wee folk alike, or so Camille did ween. Of huge crofters, Camille had sighted none since yester; nevertheless, she believed that they were about, but chose to remain unseen; mayhap they were shy.
And thus did the grizzled Bear and golden-haired Camille travel and live off the land, eating berries from vines, and grain from the grasses, and vegetables from the loam, as well as fruit from trees. For in the Autumnwood ’twas harvesttime—eternal Camille did think. Still, she wondered whether the fruit and other such ever replaced itself, and if so, then how did it manage the feat, for without winter to rest and spring to renew and summer to ripen, how could harvest continue without all eventually becoming barren?
Ah, but this is Faery, where mystical things are said to occur. I will have to remember to ask Prince Alain about such, assuming that Alain is a bit like his brother Borel, and not some monster instead.—Oh my, I should have asked Borel what Alain was like. Ah, but he and his pack were after that terrible Troll and had no time for my girlish chatter. Oh, but I do hope Borel and his Wolves are safe.
In the eve, when they had camped and Camille’s kindled fire brightly burned, in the darktide beyond the reach of the flickering light she could see eyes glittering and now and again catch a glimpse of movement: foxes and lynx and other night hunters, some, it seemed, with riders astride; too, there were moving glimmers among the trees, somewhat like the dancing lights of the Springwood, though here in the Autumnwood, the gleams seemed to proceed as if in solemn ceremony instead of in carefree joy. As the night wore on, now and again something large with a heavy tread would pass by in the dark unseen, and at these times Camille looked to the Bear, but he appeared unperturbed, and though her heart did beat with excitement, it did not gallop in fear.
Late on the fourth day
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