Raven Mocker Read Online Free Page A

activity ceases. The hunt is over for the day.
    Snakewater’s quest was a little different. Most hunters were interested in numbers. The more kills, the more food for the family. She needed only one, for herself, for today. Yet she hated to depart from custom. She had watched the barking gray creature for some time now, from her place in the thicket. She knew that this one was aware of her presence, but she was looking for the next squirrel to happen by, curious as to what the scolding was about.
    But no
next
squirrel appeared …. Maybe this area had been hunted heavily by the young men, and squirrels were scarce here. Maybe she should look elsewhere. There were nut trees in several places near the town. Pecans, chestnuts, several kinds of oaks. Squirrels would be busy gathering and storing. But she hated to spend the whole day looking for one squirrel. The only reason not to shoot a barking squirrel, as far as she knew, was that you wanted
more
, and she needed only one. With what she had, she could put together a stew that would furnish several meals. She could do the stew without the meat, but it would not be the same.
    Her heart was set on a squirrel now. The one on the sycamore limb above her seemed to be taunting her, as if he knew the custom. Twice she raised her gun and then lowered it again, hoping for another target. Finally she could stand it no longer. She raised the weapon, selected the best of her darts, and inserted it into the mouthpiece. Carefully she aligned the tube and placed her lips on theopening. It had been a year or two since she had used the blowgun, and she was unsure.
I should have tried a practice shot or two
, she thought. Too late now…. A deep lungful of air, a puff …
    She knew as the dart left the tube that it was an accurate shot. When it feels right, there is no doubt. There was only a glimpse of the speeding missle, and the barking squirrel ceased to bark. He tumbled from the white branch and struck the ground with a thud, kicking feebly. The woods were silent as she shuffled forward to claim her prize.
    Snakewater pulled out the dart, wiped it on a leaf from a nearby bush, and tucked it back in her belt. It was apparently undamaged.
    She took a thong, looped it around the creature’s neck, and suspended it, too, from her waist. Now she was ready to start home.
    She looked up to see a young man rising from the bushes a few steps away. She had been unaware of the other hunter’s presence.
    “I am sorry,” she said. “I did not see you. I thought I was alone.”
    He nodded slightly but did not speak. The expression on his face, though, told much.
    “I only needed one ….” She realized that she must sound ridiculous.
    “Here, take it,” she offered.
    The youngster shook his head. He still held a look of mixed puzzlement and disbelief. She had spoiled his hunt, and his wordless resentment came at her with great force.
You shot a barking squirrel
his eyes accused.

4

    S he regretted the confrontation with the young squirrel hunter, and his odd reaction. She had not been aware of his presence and would have gladly given him the squirrel. His actions were strange, it seemed. It was doubtful whether he had been aware of
her
presence, until the squirrel tumbled out of the tree. She had spoiled his hunt, probably. He would have waited for other squirrels, and shot at
them.
He might have procured two or three by waiting. Now he had none. But she had apologized, as common courtesy would demand, and had offered the results of her own hunt. That should have been sufficient.
    There was something else here, something vague and poorly defined. It was like something seen through an early-morning fog, identified but with little clear detail. What she had seen in the eyes of the young hunter was a mixture of several emotions: surprise, disappointment, maybe a little indignation, even an accusing tone. All of these emotions could be expected under the circumstances. But she had seen something