‘As we die our souls will leap forward, transcending the world’s chains. All petty jealousies, intrigues and hatreds will be left behind us as we journey to the Source.
‘The Voice says we ride.’
*
A three-quarter moon hung in the cloudless night sky, casting pale shadows from the trees around Rek’s camp-fire. A luckless rabbit, gutted and encased in clay, lay on the coals as Virae came back from the stream, wiping her naked upper body with one of Rek’s spare shirts.
‘If only you knew how much that cost me!’ he said as she sat on a rock by the fire, her body glowing gold as the flames danced.
‘It never served a better purpose,’ she said. ‘How much longer before that rabbit is ready?’
‘Not long. You will catch your death of cold, sitting half-naked in this weather. My blood’s chilling to ice just watching you.’
‘Strange!’ she said. ‘Just this morning you were telling me how your blood ran hot just to look at me.’
‘That was in a warm cabin with a bed handy. I’ve never been much for making love in the snow. Here, I’ve warmed a blanket.’
‘When I was a child,’ she said, taking the blanket and wrapping it round her shoulders, ‘we used to have to run three miles across the downs in midwinter wearing only a tunic and sandals. That was bracing. And extremely cold.’
‘If you’re so tough, how was it that you turned blue before we found the cabin?’ he asked, a broad smile robbing the question of malice.
‘The armour,’ she said. ‘Too much steel, not enough wool beneath it. Mind you, if I had been riding in front I wouldn’t have got so bored and fallen asleep. How long did you say that rabbit would be? I’m starving.’
‘Soon. I think . . .’
‘Have you ever cooked a rabbit this way before?’ she asked.
‘Not exactly. But it is the right way – I’ve seen it done. All the fur comes away as you crack the clay. It’s easy.’
Virae was not convinced. ‘I stalked that skinny beast for ages,’ she said, recalling with pleasure the single arrow from forty paces which had downed it. ‘Not a bad bow, if a little on the light side. It’s an old cavalry bow, isn’t it? We have several at Delnoch. The modern ones are all silver steel now -better range and a stronger poundage. I’m starving.’
‘Patience aids the appetite,’ he told her.
‘You’d better not ruin that rabbit. I don’t like killing the things at the best of times. But at least there’s a purpose if one can eat it.’
‘I’m not sure how the rabbit would respond to that line of reasoning,’ said Rek.
‘Can they reason?’ asked Virae.
‘I don’t know, I didn’t mean it literally.’
‘Then why say it? You are a strange man.’
‘It was just an abstract thought. Do you never have an abstract thought? Do you never wonder how a flower knows when it’s time to grow? Or how the salmon find its way back to the spawning grounds?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘Is the rabbit cooked?’
‘Well, what do you think about, when you’re not planning how to kill people?’
‘Eating,’ she said. ‘What about that rabbit?’
Rek tipped the ball of clay from the coals with a stick, watching it sizzle on the snow.
‘Well, what do you do now?’ she asked. He ignored her and picked up a fist-sized rock, then cracked it hard against the clay which split to disgorge a half-cooked, half-skinned rabbit.
‘Looks good,’ she said. ‘What now?’
He poked the steaming meat with a stick.
‘Can you face eating that?’ he said.
‘Of course. Can I borrow your knife? Which bit do you want?’
‘I’ve got some oatcake left in my pack. I think I’ll make do with that. Will you put some clothes on!’
They were camped in a shallow depression under a rock face – not deep enough to be a cave but large enough to reflect heat from the fire and cut out the worst of the wind. Rek chewed his oatcake and watched the girl devour the rabbit. It was not an edifying sight. She hurled the remnants of the carcass into the trees. ‘Badgers should enjoy it,’ she said. ‘That’s not a bad way to cook rabbit.’