David Gemmell. The Hawk Enternal

Once back in the sunlight Caswallon retrieved the pup, tucking it half into his tunic where his body heat would warm it.

‘Build a fire over there, Gaelen, and we’ll see if the beast is worth saving.’

Gaelen built a small circle of stones, laid his tinder and struck sparks from his dagger and a small flint block. The tinder began to smoke. He blew on it softly until the first tongue of flame rose, then he added small twigs and finally thinner sticks. Caswallon eased his pack from his shoulders, pulling out the strips of dried meat packed by Maeg.

‘We need a pot to boil some thick broth,’ he said. ‘And here is another lesson for you. Cut me a long strip of bark from that tree over there.’

Gaelen did as he was bid and watched amazed as Caswallon shaped the edges and then twisted the bark into the shape of a deep bowl. Half filling it with water from the canteen, he laid the pot on the small fire.

‘But it will burn away,’ said Gaelen. ‘It is wood.’

‘It will not burn as long as water is in it and the flames stay below the waterline.’ Taking his dagger, Caswallon sliced the dried meat into chunks and added them to the pot.

Before long the stew began to bubble and steam, the meat expanding. Caswallon added more meat, stirring the contents with his dagger. Gaelen moved beside him, reaching to stroke the small dark head poking out from Caswallon’s tunic.

As the sun sank behind crimson clouds, bathing the mountain peaks in glowing copper, Caswallon ordered the lad to remove the bowl and allow the stew to cool. As they waited, the clansman opened his tunic and lifted the pup to his lap. Then he cut a section of the dried beef and began to chew it. ‘Can you give some to the pup?’ pleaded Gaelen. ‘He is starving!’

That’s what I am doing, boy. It’s too tough for him. I am doing what his mother would do.’

Removing the half-chewed meat from his mouth, Caswallon shredded it and offered a small amount to the pup. Its tiny tongue snaked out, nose wrinkling at the smell of the meat. The tiny beast ate a little, then its head sank against Caswallon’s hand. ‘Still too tough for him,’ said the clansman. ‘But see the size of his paws? He will be big, this one. Here, hold him.’

The pup began to whine as Caswallon passed him over, but he settled down as Gaelen stroked behind his floppy ears.

‘As I thought, he is half wolf,’ said the clansman. ‘But there’s enough dog in him to be trained, I think. Would you like to keep him?’

Gaelen lifted the pup to his face, staring into the tiny brown eyes. Like him, the helpless beast was an orphan, and he remembered his own long crawl to the high ground.

‘He is a child of the mountains,’ said Gaelen. ‘I shall adopt him. Is it my right?”

‘It is,’ said Caswallon gravely. ‘But first he must live.’

After a while Caswallon tested the stew. When it had reached blood heat he passed it to Gaelen. ‘Dip your smallest finger into it and get the beast to lick it. He’s obviously too young to take it any other way.’ The stew was thick and dark and Gaelen followed the instructions. The pup’s nose wrinkled again at the smell, but its tongue licked out. The boy continued to feed the animal until at last it fell asleep in his arms.

‘Do you think it will live?”

‘I don’t know. Tomorrow we will have a better idea.’

‘I hope it does, Caswallon.’

‘Hope is akin to prayer,’ said the clansman, ‘so perhaps it will.’ He rose to his feet. ‘Wait here, there’s something I must check. I should not be long.’ With that he was gone into the undergrowth. The sun had set, but the moon was high and bright in the clear sky, and Gaelen sat with his back against a tree, staring into the flickering coals of the fire.

This was life, this was a peace he had never known. The little pup moved in its sleep and he stroked it absently. In the distance the mountains made a jagged line against the sky like a wall against the world – deeply comforting and immensely reassuring.