Chapter 437
437 337 – Deer Hunters
I found Maximus early in the morning; it wasn’t hard. Not that our numbers had dwindled that much (though they were shrinking), but rather that Maximus was a creature of habit.
He looked up at me from where he was bathing and snorted. “Whatever it is, it can wait until after I have bathed and breakfasted.”
“Actually, it must not wait.” I said. “I need you to forbid hunting parties from stalking deer.”
“You are too late to save your four legged friends.” he said. “The hunting parties left before dawn.”
“I wasn’t... okay, I was trying to save them, as well.” I said.
He chuckled. “Whatever their minds, they are only deer.”
I sighed. “If any of your hunters survives, I’ll let them tell you differently.”
“If? Deer are known only for their stealth.”
“Maximus, there must be a horn or something. These aren’t the arena sands. Stealth is often enough.”
.....
“We have bows, and armor, and no less than two points of might on the greatest of them.” he assured me. “Now be a good servant, and go.”
“I am not your servant.” I said. “We need to divert a day north, now, if not two.”
“There are three reasons that will not happen.” he said. “First, you told me there are ogres living in that wood. Ogres are one of the few humans capable of fighting a minotaur on even footing.”
He paused, but I said nothing.
“Secondly, if we change course, our scouts will have to hunt for us, and they will doubtless eat all that tasty venison they’re otherwise coming back with. Now. Tell me what the third point is.”
“When this game backfires on you, remember I tried to warn you.”
“The only game I see,” Maximus said, is game to cook and serve at our tables.
I left him there, laughing. He must have misinterpreted my hung head, my shuffling walk.
Stupid toxic... males! I am still more than a few millenia from my first confrontation with testosterone, but still.
Why would they not just LISTEN? We were almost THERE.
If the empire still existed there, after all this time. We had been running short of soldiers, and in the middle of a war that more resembled a meat grinder than anything I’d been preparing for.
And when I returned, it wouldn’t be with a company of minotaurs at my back. Maybe not even forty, after this debacle was done. Maybe none.
So it was that I didn’t notice the bushes move until there was a neck in my armpit.
the deer said.
I said.
I got onto the deer’s back.
I asked.
he said.
I told him.
Either he never got used to it, or I just wasn’t that good as a mount. Probably the latter, and I count that among good things.
Deer are staunch republicans, when they aren’t practicing the democracy of nature. They are led by their senior mated couple, collectively referred to as the hierarch. It was possible for the couple to step down or be unseated, but generally a pair ruled until one or both of them died.
So it was little surprise to me when they turned out to be the same couple that had not been in charge during my first visit.
said the stallion,
The doe sniffed, lowered her head to nibble some grass.
I said,
the stallion said.
the doe sent.
I said.
She blinked at me.
She raised her nose, looked down the side of her face at me.
I said.
she said.
The stallion looked away, flicked his tail at her.
He turned his gaze upon me.
I looked down, sighed. I said
the stallion said.
the doe said.
he replied.
Can you call four deer a stampede? As close as their small numbers permitted, a group of youths stampeded up to us. White Nose sent.
Hibiscus explained.
said a young male whose name I do not currently recall.
The doe glared at the stallion.
I said,
he told me.
the doe agreed.
The stallion nodded.
I said.
the doe said,
a tiny young she-fawn said,
the doe said.
What did I have to offer?
she asked.
I said.
she decided.
I sighed, looked around.
She stamped a foot.
I swallowed, my mouth dry.
she said,
she asked the child,
she replied.
the does responded.
historical
“Or loses together.” I said. But, when nudged toward a cooking pit, I began preparing the ingredients. The raw math did not lie; two, perhaps three deer would fall for every...
Where had the Deer gotten crossbows?