Fall of Angels (The Saga of Recluce #6)(116)

Within a few cubits of where the buck had stood were scattered bloodstains. He also found a shaft, wedged in a pine trunk-probably the third shaft. After recovering that- carefully-he replaced it in the quiver and put one ski in front of the other, trudging through the ever-heavier snow along a trail of scattered blood droppings.

Sweat began to ooze from his forehead, and he loosened his jacket and untied the scarf and put it inside the jacket. He didn't want to stop to get into the pack.

A welcome shadow fell across the forest as a single, white puffy cloud covered the sun.

Nylan's legs began to ache, and the buck turned uphill at a slant. Nylan's legs ached more. He glanced ahead, and did not see the hump in the snow-a covered root or low branch.

His left ski caught, and he twisted forward. A line of pain scored his leg, and he grunted, trying not to yell. For a moment he lay there, letting his perceptions check the leg. The bones seemed sound, but another wave of pain shot down the leg as he rolled into a ball to get up.

Slowly, he stood, casting his senses ahead.

The buck was not that far away, perhaps two hundred cubits, just out of sight, and Nylan slowly slid the left ski forward, then the right.

When he reached the next low crest in the hill, he could see the big deer, almost flailing his way through the snow.

Nylan pushed on, trying to ignore the pain in his leg.

With the sound of the skis on the crusting snow, the deer lunged forward, then sagged into a heap.

Nylan finally stood over the buck, but the animal was not dead. Blood ran from the side of its mouth, and one of the shafts through the shoulder had been snapped off. More blood welled out around the other shaft, the one through the chest. The deer tried to lift his head; then the neck dropped, but he still panted, and the blood still oozed out around the shaft in his chest.

Nylan looked at the deer. Now what? He didn't have anything for a humane quick kill. Finally, he fumbled out the belt knife.

Even using his perceptions, trying to make the kill quick, it took him three tries to cut what he thought was the carotid artery. Three tries, and blood all over his trousers, the snow, and his gloves. Even so, the deer took forever to die, or so it seemed to Nylan, as he stood there in the midday glare and the red-stained snow. The sense of the animal's pain was great enough that, had he eaten recently, he wouldn't have been able to keep that food in his guts. Even though they needed the meat, his eyes burned.

Nylan worked out the one good arrow shaft, cleaned it on the snow, and put it in his quiver. Then he dug out the rope and the sheet of heavy plastic. Awkward as it was working on skis, he left them on, afraid that he'd never get them back on if he took them off.

The poor damned deer was heavy, and the plastic sheeting was smaller than the carcass, which had a tendency to skid sideways as Nylan pulled it. The snow had gotten even damper under the bright sun, and most of the way back was uphill. Nylan's left leg stabbed with each movement of the skis.

The rope cut into his shoulders, despite the heavy jacket, and sweat ran into his eyes. It felt like he had to stop and rest every hundred cubits, sometimes more often.

Mid-afternoon came, and went, before he cleared the forest and reached the bottom of the ridge. There, Nylan dragged everything onto the packed snow surface of the trail, took off his skis, and tied them to the sheeting.

With another series of slow efforts, he started uphill.

Halfway up, two figures skied down and joined him.

"Ser?"

Nylan looked up blankly, then shook his head as he recognized Cessya and Huldran.

"Frigging big animal, ser," observed Huldran with a grin.

"Heavy animal." Nylan nodded tiredly. "I could use some help." That was an understatement.

"We can manage that." Huldran studied the red deer. "Lot of meat here."

"I hope so. I hope so."

As the two marines unfastened their skis, Nylan just sat in the snow beside the trail.

"You all right, ser?"

"I'm a lot better since you arrived." Nylan staggered up as they started to pull his kill uphill once more. The muscles in his left leg still knotted with every step, but the pain was less without the strain of pulling the makeshift sled and deer.

Saryn was waiting, tripod ready, by the time the three reached the causeway.

Nylan set his skis against the tower wall and sat on the causeway wall, too tired to move for a time. The sun had just dropped behind the western peaks, and a chill freeze rose.

"Ser," ventured Huldran, "would you mind if I took your skis and poles down?"

"I definitely wouldn't mind. I'd appreciate that very much."

"Don't stay out too long, ser," added Cessya, picking up his poles.

"I won't." The coldness of the wind felt good against Nylan's face, and he just sat there, staring into space.

Saryn looked up from the deer carcass, then at Nylan. "Good animal, but you sure made a mess."

"I'm a poor killer and a worse butcher," Nylan said, his voice rasping. "I wasn't planning on getting anything this big. I hope I didn't spoil anything by taking so long."

"It's cold enough that it isn't a problem." Saryn grinned. "Gerlich came back earlier. He said there wasn't anything within kays."

"There isn't. I went down that section you call the forest wedge."