The Cavalier by Jason McWhirter Page A

Hunting was the mainstay of his village and a man’s worth was often based on what he could provide. It was believed that the deer and wild game of the Tundrens were provided by Shyann herself, and she rewarded the patient hunter with the most magnificent animals. But because these animals gave them life, and they were gifts from Shyann, all hunters were taught at an early age to respect the animals that provided for them. Young boys accompanied their fathers on the hunts to learn the skills, and to respect nature and what it provided. Jonas had never learned to hunt because he could not physically take part, nor did he have a father to pass on those skills had he been able. But now he was being taught, and he absorbed the knowledge with the enthusiasm and excitement of one who would never take for granted the new opportunity presented to him. Fil was no expert hunter, but he passed on what his father had taught him and it was enough to form a foundation from which Jonas could build.
    He had tracked the animal slowly for several hours. Fil had told him that he was a natural and that he had the patience to be a great hunter. He could move quietly and slowly, and his accuracy with the bow was amazing for someone who was just a novice. Jonas didn’t tell Fil that he had spent countless hours practicing, shooting the bow when he went out on his many hikes. He could drop a bird out of a tree at thirty paces.
    The deer he was following was a huge buck. He caught a glimpse of it through some brambles before it bolted away. The rack was immense, and the large stag held it high with ease.
    Jonas was slowly moving from tree to tree, his snowshoes making a quiet crunch as he walked, an arrow nocked to his bow string. His breath came out in billows of steam as he scanned the forest for his target. He had been following the animal for a long time in deep snow, up and down gulches and over logs, and he was getting tired. Luckily for him the deer was actually taking him back towards their cave, which meant that if he actually killed it, he would have a shorter distance to carry the meat. Just to his right he caught a glimpse of the animal as it moved towards some choice buds that had begun to emerge from the undergrowth as spring neared. The buck lifted its big head to feed, exposing its side perfectly. It was a long shot, maybe fifty paces, but Jonas was hopeful that he could pierce the animal’s heart. The last thing he wanted to do was wound the magnificent beast and cause it undue pain.  
    He pulled back on the powerful bow that Fil’s father had made, sighted in the animal, releasing his breath slowly as Fil had taught him, and fired. His heart pounded with anticipation as he narrowed his eyes on the path of the arrow. It whistled through the air as the big buck turned. It all happened so fast that it was hard for Jonas to see where the deer was hit, the animal bolted, dashing through the woods and disappearing completely.
    Jonas tracked the blood trail up a narrow ridge until he finally found the dead animal at the edge of a cliff face. It seemed to Jonas that the buck had run to this spot, admired its beauty, and decided that this was a good place to die.
    The beast was correct. The majestic animal was lying in the snow on his right, and Jonas stood and stared out at the valley below. The snow covered Tundren Mountains glittered in the morning sun. Jonas was suddenly overcome by a flood of emotions. He sat down next to the animal and began to cry. He might not ever see these mountains again. His mother, the only person that had ever cared for him, was dead, frozen, lying in her own blood in Gorum’s cabin. He had cried almost daily the first couple of weeks in the cave, but his grief had been tempered somewhat by all the possibilities that were now open to him. The sorrow was fueling his new body. And now it seemed this renewed grief would never go away. Nor did he want it to; he would never forget his mother. Wiping away the