"The deer will sense it. They will be searching for shelter.

And I know the grove where they will congregate, waiting for the storm to pa.s.s." He voiced the words even as they came to mind.

It was a habit formed of living a lonely life. Since he had none to talk to on his frequent excursions, he talked softly to himself.

At times he argued with himself - now supporting a position; now, opposing it. Such mental contests amused him, sharpened his wits, or so he led himself to believe.

"They will drift down to the little valley on yonder hillside.

I can be there by set of sun, or perhaps travel under moonlight, and our larder will be well-stocked tomorrow."

Today he didn't argue with himself. It was a good plan. He began the climb to the mountain valley.

Few paths led into the mountains. Torturous and narrow they quickly petered out into animal trails or ended abruptly without cause. Man left the mountains to G.o.ds of the forest. Only the bravest hunters dared their heights.

It did not concern him. This was his world, and he climbed steadily, finding pa.s.sage where others might turn back.

The lower reaches of the foothills were rolling and the climb was gradual. Here grew giant trees, broadleafed under the summer sun, bare in the cold of winter. Nevertheless, here game was rare, as man dwelled nigh.

As he pa.s.sed the foothills the terrain became increasingly rougher. From time to time a vertical wall of stone blocked his way, and he detoured on twisting paths among boulders as tall as himself. Sometimes, when no path existed for his progress, he carefully and slowly climbed the rugged precipice.

"Ah, " he smiled, "would I could fly." He gazed upward, noted dangerous routes, continued his climb. Panting from his efforts he progressed ever upward, soon reaching levels where only the evergreens grew. And as he went upward still, even these grew more rarely, and more diminutive in form. A few, twisted and gnarled, hung tenaciously to the near barren earth, their forms bowed in submission to the power of the wind.

As he leaped from boulder to boulder one twisted beneath his foot. The motion of the stone threw him to the side of the trail, to the outer edge of the pathway. Loose dirt and gravels rattled downward, bounced from jutting ledges, disappearing into the fog that hid the rock-strewn surface at the cliff's base.

With the agility of youth he caught his balance, danced to a more solid footing. For a moment he sat down, grinned at the incident as he gazed over the edge of the precipice that might have welcomed him. He picked up a pebble, tossed it over the rim, watched and listened as it careened downward from ledge to ledge. He shook his head.

"Could have been me."

He grinned, tossed another pebble. It rattled down the surfaced, bounced outward.

"No, no way, not me."

He leaned back for a moment, relaxed in the warming rays of the sun, filtered at times by the gathering clouds.

He rubbed his ankle, winced at the pain. "Well, not broken. I think I'll cut a staff. Too bad. May slow me."

Even as he fashioned the staff his thoughts wandered. He thought the deep, deep thoughts of youth. The concerns for tomorrow. His search for a goal beyond the hunting and fishing of his daily life. His companions had gone diverse ways. Some were now merchants, others farmers, a few followed the sea. Some very few had disappeared into the wilds, destined to join outlaw bands. Perhaps he should become, as his Father, a farmer.

To plow the fields, plant, and watch the harvest grow. Marry and raise a family.

"Mother would like that. She would favor Theresa. And I do like her. "

He put his weight on the staff, walked back and forth. The ankle was swollen, ached, but he would manage.

His thoughts once more returned to the future. Married, a home of his own? It was not unappealing. Ah, but he could not forsake the mountains, give up the hunt! Anyway, there was time enough.

"There is tomorrow, and many tomorrows to come. Time enough."

High above a flock of wild geese flew, their path southward toward the sea. Clouds, winddriven, chased them across the darkening sky. In the distance lightning flashed between dark c.u.mulus clouds. Quickly the rumble of thunder followed. He felt the cool breeze ruffling his hair, heard its whisper in his ear.

Another burst of thunder. "Close, very close." he murmured.

"Best I be moving on. Still, the wind is shifting. Perhaps it will pa.s.s by."

Above the whisper of windrustled leaves he heard a different noise, the soft pad of footsteps approaching. He frowned. By the sound he knew them to be human, and likely two people. But who would be traveling here at this time, with the impending storm?

Rising, Demo slipped silently into the bordering underbrush, moved to the meager shelter of a gnarled pine. He lay flat at its base, obscured by its trunk from any curious eyes that might gaze from the pathway.

Tales pa.s.sed by word of mouth of robber bands, brigands who made their home in the forests. Furtive, deadly, they survived by waylaying unwary travelers. Perhaps exaggerated tales, but few honest men dared the high mountains!

He waited, eyes wide, controlling breathe and movement.

"I tell you, I saw the boy. He was young, scampered up the slopes like a mountain goat. And he carried a pouch. There could be gold. At least he should have food, and our larder is nearly empty."

The speaker and his comrade came into sight at the mouth of a dark ravine.

"Maybe a kid out on a hunt. Or maybe a trick. He could be here looking for us, with a band ready to follow. They were peaceful enough in the village when we took only a few coins and needed food. It's when you killed that tradesman all changed. Now they are afraid, and they are hunting desperately for us."

"True. Anyway, it was dispatch him or be taken prisoner. And I say we do the same with this one. I say we find this lad, open his gullet, take his pouch and toss him off yonder crag. This is our territory, and we want no trespa.s.sers!" He grinned, pleased at the thought.

The speaker was medium height, burly, and his face wore an angry scowl. His companion was taller. The shorter man was plainly the leader, and the tall one listened more than talked.

"He had a bow."

"We come up behind him, end it quickly. His bow is of no consequence."

"Say, look here. Something's happened here. Look at the stones, and the footprints."

They knelt where Demo had nearly taken a fall, examined the disturbed stones, and the surrounding ground.

"You're right, someone has been here. And it looks like they've decided to stay - down there." The tall man pointed over the brink of the escarpment toward the valley floor.

"The path ends here, and that's a fact. Well, if he went over at this point he's a goner. Too bad. Wonder what he had in that pouch?"

They glanced cautiously out over the edge of the precipice. The short man suddenly gave the tall one a half shove.

"You idiot! What if I'd slipped. I'll rap you on that thick skull if you do a fool thing like that again!"

The shorter one grinned. "Ah, it was just in fun. I'd not send you over."

"No, not unless you were for taking all the coins for yourself.

Just keep your distance. Maybe you saw nothing at all, just wanted to get me out here where it'd be easy. No, Rooster, I trust you not at all."

The burly man pulled a dagger from his belt, still grinning.

"You think too much, friend Peter. Nevertheless, I like it! It is an excellent idea!"

The blade darted out! Missed!