A crashing through the slender trees let in a burst of sunlight at the beast's frantic entry to the clearing a pack of four dogs yapping at its heels. Here it could turn to fend off its pursuers. Not expecting a tangling of its leg in a stretched vine stopping it dead in a confused braying and nearly falling to the ground. Racing to regain its balance unaware till too late of the human army silently and suddenly surrounding it and its legs craftily trapped into tight loops hobbling it and now the dogs were the least of its problems.

Akka Akka Akka Akka Akka the continuous chant rang through the trees. A young man barely seventeen years of age sprang daringly onto its back. His friends bayed and cheered. Dressed like the others except for thick black curls held in place by a faded white band and on the left side of that band a crude depiction of a tree with two branches on each side like a double pair of arms. The horse trying to fend him off but he had been well prepared and knew exactly what to expect. His eyes darting to pick every movement of the muscular body. His right hand holding a cruel weapon whose fire-hardened wooden handle secured a murderously sharp flint cutting edge. She reared but he grabbed her slippery neck with his left arm, breathing in the sharpness of her fear. From above he could see the neck vein throbbing in a dark patch of the brown and tan coat. As the animal wrestled him he picked his mark and with his right hand in a single slicing motion selected the precise angle to cut the skin in one go and even as the horse yelled he could see her blood spraying onto the leaves with a gentle hiss. The dagger dropped to the ground and he opened his hands flat onto the back of her neck. Adjusting his feet along the rear of the animal he managed to propel himself back to ground the leather of his boots softening the impact where a heavy set boy slightly younger with short cropped hair grabbed him by the shoulders and brought him panting back into safety lest a foot should suddenly break free from its bonds.

Even now the horse was becoming subdued, its strength and voice fading and snorting reducing to a laboured breathing only the sweat and blood still cloying the hot air. The company waited alert until it's legs failed and sinking to the ground it expelled its final breaths. As it expired all the men leapt upon it giving out orders slicing off the skin and butchering the fresh carcass in a welter of steaming bloody mess and flying insects. Their dogs watching out from the circle to keep wild animals at bay as the meat was packaged into fresh parcels of leaves to keep for the evening. While the warrior observed the grisly work a man only a few years older waddled over. He wore a white and blue cloth on his shoulders and was sweating heavily though he had taken no part in the work.

"A good hit, Luke. The Old Ones would be proud. You'll be made a warrior tonight."

The youth took little notice, trying to catch any wind that would take the heat away. Morian was not a warrior and they treated him as a bit of a joke. All his friends had known the gawky man long before he had the fortune to become high priest, and mocked him for his unwordly ways. Still a virgin and long since twenty went the refrain. But Luke was secretly proud that he had succeeded in this task. On the day of the Midsummer Festival. He could even get married if the elders gave permission. No great sign of that perhaps in the next year or two. Morian would be one of the elders. Had been since the old man had died in the spring.

Luke could suddenly sense a bitter taste in his mouth which made him feel sick. "It is a shame to kill such a creature, Morian. I don't believe I've really earned it."

The man looked up at Luke's dark eyebrows, the headband, the youthful curly waves. "Anyone can kill, Luke. The test of a warrior is being able to kill for the benefit of others, even though it goes against your own nature. You have passed the test admirably."

He was privately amused at the young priest's earnestness. The words seemed to march out of his mouth in an unnatural fashion. But he knew it was right. Uncle had told him at The Lodge about the role of the warrior. To kill and to spare. You'll have to kill people too. Uncle had looked sad. Luke never asked how many he had killed in the Mountain Wars. He shivered despite the heat. He wondered perversely if he could kill Yan and quickly decided that no, there were some things that could never happen. No more than his own brother. As he wondered how to reply he thought he saw movement away in the foliage. Craning his head Morian reflexively followed his gaze.

Luke walked towards the point. "Look, it's her baby. The poor thing." Only waist height, camouflaged by its brown and black markings. A little white foam hung down from its protruding mouth. Otherwise an exact miniature of the dead beast.

The little horse tried to hide itself as well as it could but was somehow trapped and unable to turn. Seeing Luke it started to panic so he stopped and gazed at it which seemed to calm it a little. He called for his dogs and whistled them behind where they made enough growling that the horse was inclined to face forward and strain towards Luke.

"Come on my little one. You can be mine now. Don't worry, I'll look after you."

Luke had heard from Uncle that horses like dogs were left behind by the Old Ones and being their creatures it could be pacified by whispering in its ear. Although he scarcely thought such a thing possible he did find the creature seeming to gain trust in him. Motioning the dogs to lie down quietly he reached up and found he could touch it on the face. Carefully he freed the foal from the foliage and placed his arm around the top of its neck. It moved with him compliantly.

As he led it limping onto the forest trail Morian followed close behind. He was aware enough of Luke and the other warriors breaking the regulation of never being alone in the Forest but as a stickler for rules he could not allow it to happen on his watch.

No person shall go into the forbidden places of the Old Ones.

The craft of the Old Ones contains the seeds of their downfall.

The rules had been followed for all the generations but were widely interpreted. Did they forbid the ownership of horses? Most people had dogs, they surely were the craft of the Old Ones. Cats also inhabited the wild places but few tried to keep them. When the isolated houses were raided for stone and tiles everything else was left unused, to decay of its own accord.

His mind had been wandering. He heard footsteps running behind. They thought he was not a fighter but he knew he was powerful enough to defend Luke should he get into trouble. There was no need as it was just the boy with short hair, Yan. "Where is he?" Morian pointed just ahead to the group of two dogs, a tiny horse and a young man. "You'd better wash your hands and face before you approach the baby. There's a stream down in those trees, should have just enough water in it."

"Oh yes." He looked down at his congealing hands. "I must be covered." He whistled to Luke then ran to the water to clean himself.

Morian wondered to himself how Yan and Luke had been best friends for so many years, the one rough-hewn out the stone hillside and the other clever as Trantrith with the world at his feet. But they were of similar temperament and Yan would appreciate him saving the baby and taking it back to bring up on the farm. He turned and plodded back to the clearing where by now the body had been stripped and as much of the skeleton as the dogs had not grabbed was buzzing with flies and ready to be left as tribute for the creatures of The Forest.