The Sight by David Clement-Davies

thought of the Sight and wondered greedily what its final power could be.
    But as the day went on Fell’s excitement began to dwindle, for the wolves had seen no Lera at all.  The children began to trail further and further behind their parents.  They were running along the edge of a forest now.  Woods like this are a wolf’s natural habitat in the land beyond the forest, where the packs once roamed wild and free and prowled happily through the night.  It was called the land beyond the forest not because it was short of trees, but because it lay beyond the mighty forests that edged the land of Hungary.
    The children instinctively felt at ease near the shadows.  The sunlight cast sometimes beautiful, sometimes gloomy shapes through the firs on to the forest floor, but the pines were well spaced and here and there as they looked towards the trees the children could see clearings where the light glowed in shimmering golden brown pools.
    As they went, Larka noticed a bird sitting on a low branch above them.  Though she didn’t have a name for the creature it was a lesser kestrel and it flicked its head back and forth now, for it held a little cockroach in its curving yellow beak.
    ‘What’s that called, Fell?’ asked Larka.
    Fell was already growing irritated that the pack still hadn’t found any game.
    ‘Why ask me,’ he said, looking at the bird a little resentfully, ‘and why are you always asking so many questions, Larka? If you were lost in a lovely wood would you really want to know the name of every tree or mushroom in it?’
    Larka wondered about the question, but she didn’t take Fell’s mood personally and now she peered even more closely up at the creature.  Its talons too were yellow as they gripped the bark, as were the rings around its black eyes.  The bird’s head was a blue grey and its wing feathers a beautiful orangey red, while its chest was specked with black.  Larka thought how fine the bird looked, but as they padded passed it she started in amazement.  Larka thought she’d heard a voice behind her.
    ‘Watch out,’ it seemed to say.
    Larka swung round but the kestrel had lifted into the air and was climbing higher and higher.  Kar noticed the bird too as it soared away.
    ‘I don’t know what its name is, Larka,’ he said as his muzzle traced its course through the sky, ‘but it’s flying Putnar all right.’
    ‘Flying Putnar?’ said Larka with surprise.  She had thought of it as a bird and little more.
    ‘Yes,’ growled Kar, ‘as opposed to the flying scavengers.  It’s a hunter, Larka.’
    Fell was getting really bored and he suddenly wanted to tease both of them.
    ‘I know all about the flying scavengers,’ he growled, his eyes twinkling, ‘Wolfbane made a pact with them.  Bran told me about it the other sun.  Do you want to hear the story?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Kar immediately.
    Larka was not at all sure she wanted to hear a story of Wolfbane but this was their first hunt and she suddenly felt too proud to show her brother the fact.
    ‘All right, then.’
    So Fell began as they padded along after the hunting pack.
    ‘It was when Tor and Fenris had been betrayed once more,’ growled Fell trying to remember Bran’s exact words, ‘and Fenris sent Wolfbane down to take revenge on the Varg.
    But with time Fenris got tired of revenge and he longed to trust the Varg again.  He had no more need of the Evil One or his darkness, so he ordered Wolfbane to return to the shadows.  The Shape Changer had grown used to the world though and to the warming sunlight and the smell of new grass on the breeze.  He was furious and because he could do such things he transformed himself into a flying scavenger, a great hooded crow and flew away to hide in a rowan tree in the famous valley of Kosov.’
    Fell spoke of it as though he himself had been there, even though he had no idea that the valley of Kosov was indeed a real place where a terrible battle had once been fought among