The Hunter by Rose Estes Page A

wellmasked, and he was no longer the stranger he had become, but Carn the Stalker, brother of Braldt.
    “You mean what you say, don’t you?” he said in carefully measured tones.
    Braldt nodded.
    Carn stared down at the ground, lost in thought, and then at his bleeding ankle and the steady stream of blood that soaked
     into the parched earth.
    “Well, if we are not going to kill each other, maybe you can help me with this leg before I bleed to death,” he said with
     a forced grin. “And maybe you can stop that thing from attacking me again.”
    Braldt looked down at the squirming bundle and wondered whether Carn could truly change so quickly. He wanted to believe that
     it was so, but how could anyone hate so strongly one minute and then deny it the next? Beast lunged in his arms, trying to
     free himself. And then there was Beast. Braldt had no idea what the animal would do; he was no tame creature who would do
     his bidding. It was possible that Beast would forever view Carn as an enemy.
    “I don’t know what he’ll do, I can but try.” Placing the robe down on the ground, Braldt held Beast firmly with one hand and
     stroked him with the other, murmuring in what he hoped was a soothing tone. Beast quieted and Braldt removed the robe.
    Beast looked at Braldt as though seeking reassurance and then up at Carn, fixing him with a steady, burning gaze that spoke
     of enmity that went far beyond his young age, but he made no move toward him. Then he turned his attentions to himself, pointedly
     ignoring Carn and tenderly licking the raw edges of the long wound. Nor would he allow Braldt to minister to him, trotting
     some distance away and settling beneath the low-hanging branches of a grease-wood bush.
    Freed of that concern the two men dealt with Carn’s ankle, washing it with some of their precious water, laving it carefully
     to cleanse it of any bits of dirt that might later fester and cause the leg to sicken. Fortunately, it had been but a glancing
     slice of the pup’s teeth rather than a solidbite, and though it bled copiously, it was shallow and not of a serious nature. Still, it did not do to take any wound lightly
     and the ankle was liberally smeared with Jos’s stinging healing unguent and bound with strips of clean cloth.
    Tending to the wound had allowed their emotions to cool further and without referring to the matter again, they turned to
     the subject of food, deftly avoiding any mention of what had gone before. Strips of dried meat were brought out of their pouches
     and hard rounds of cheese, washed down with the gourd of sour fermented milk. They ate in silence, neither of them knowing
     what to say. Beast returned after a time although he would not come close to either man, viewing both with distrust. Carn
     threw him a bit of meat that Beast ignored.
    “I did not know you hated me,” Braldt said, staring straight ahead.
    “I am tired of hearing your name. I sometimes think that I do not exist. It is as though Auslic and even my father think that
     the moon itself rises and sets to please you. It’s Braldt did this, Braldt did that. My ears grow weary of hearing your name
     and no one has eyes for anything that I do.
    “Last turning, I killed the merebear that was taking the shebeasts, the one that had ventured to the very outskirts of the
     city, and when we measured it, Father pointed out that you had once slain one that was larger!” The bitterness was obvious
     in Carn’s voice and even though he had not been present or responsible for Otius’s comments, he could feel the pain that they
     had caused.
    “I did not know, Carn, nor do I wish it to be so,” Braldt replied simply, not knowing what else he could say.
    “That only makes it worse.”
    “Can we still be brothers?”
    “I do not see that I have a choice. We have been sent to do this thing together, and our lives may depend upon each other
     if it is to be done. But afterward, after we return, I make you no