The hunting party progressed up the valley and into the woods. The open sky above them disappeared beneath a canopy of green pine needles, the views around them closed in with walls of ferns and bracken. They loosed the dogs, who went bounding off into the underbrush followed by their keepers, in search of any scent or trail. Urathon went with them, being the most experienced tracker of them all. If there was anything worth hunting in this particular forest, they would find it. 

That left Ozragad alone with Rhiathon, his guards, and Elethiomel, his cousin's son. An awkward silence fell over the group as the sounds of the barking hounds faded into the distance. He realised now that he hardly knew his own kinsman. Elethiomel had rarely been at court, the feast for the arrival of the Princess being the first time in several years. There had been some kind of row about that he remembered, when the boy had been young, and he or Manawyndan had wanted him to serve as a squire to the King. His mother had refused point blank, it had gotten so bad that they one point they did not speak for the best part of a year, the rift only healed when she had agreed to send Piebio as a page and cupbearer instead. 

[color=f7941d][b]"So... boy. We see you so rarely at court, glad to be out from under your mother's thumb?"[/b][/color] Elethiomel glanced over, there was still a nervous look to him. To be expected perhaps considering him being so unfamiliar with his King, Ozragad knew he was an intimidating presence, we to his own subjects. 

[b]"No, your Highness, I mean- yes, of course, I am glad to be in your presence but I-I-" [/b] The sentence devolved into a stuttering mess as the youth tried to cover himself from speaking any form of slight against either his mother or the King himself. 

[b][color=f7941d]"Speak freely, the truth will not hurt me nor my cousin."[/color][/b]

[b]"In truth... I am glad. She means well, sire, but she is too overbearing. She thinks she knows what is best for me, thinks to arrange my life to suit her desires. But I am old enough to think and feel for myself now. It has been this way since my father died."[/b]

[b][color=f7941d]"Ah yes... your father.[/color][/b] Ozragad remembered his cousin's husband well. He had been one of his finest commanders. [b][color=f7941d]He was a brave man, a loyal man. Had he not held the flank at Bitter Tree, that battle would have been lost, perhaps the whole war with it. You should be proud of him."[/color][/b]

[b]"I am proud of him. He fell fighting for a just and noble cause."[/b] A change went over the boy then, a strange shadow passed across his features, a look of regret and doubt completely different to the panicked nerves he had displayed before. He began to speak again, but this time in urgent lowered and hushed tones.[b]"Your Majesty, may I beseech you for just one moment? You m-"[/b]

[b]"A SCENT! A SCENT!"[/b] The cry came up from the woods in the direction that the dogs had raced off to only a few minutes before. Ozragad sat bolt upright in his saddle and spurred his horse forward with a kick of his heels. 

[b][color=f7941d]"It will have to wait, lad. We hunt!"[/color][/b]
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When Ozragad and the others finally caught up to where Urathon and dogs were, they found them milling around clearing, at the centre of which sat the bloodied carcass of a felled stag. It was dead, someone had already started the butchery process, peeling back the hide in order to remove the creature's entrails. The sight of it immediately put Ozragad into a foul mood. He would hardly be fulfilling this trial if he had no part in the slaying. Not that he especially cared about the whole damn thing, but still, he had no desire to be made to look weak, or worse, a hypocrite. He rounded on Urathon angrily. 

[color=f7941d][b]"What is the meaning of this exactly, my Lord?! I send you to track for me and find you finished the killing instead? Are you trying to emasculate me in front of my court and my bride-to-be, or is it just ."[/b][/color]

[b]"It was already dead when we came across it, sire. Poachers."[/b]  Urathon took the berating stoically before gesturing to three men Ozragad had not noticed at the edge of the clearing. They sat on their knees, surrounded by a cluster of his guardsmen, their swords all drawn. He turned to them now, staring them down with his intense, burning orange-gold gaze. 

[b][color=f7941d]"This is the King's land. Poaching is theft Theft from the King can be punished with the taking of the offending hand, can it not? Lord Justicar?"[/color][/b]

[b]"Indeed it is, sire."[/b]

[b][color=f7941d]"So what are we waiting for? Let us dispense some Justice and move on with our hunt."[/color][/b] Ozragad began to draw his own sword. Two of the three men, the younger ones, backed away, whimpering in terror at the sight of the King's blade. The guards behind them gripped their shoulders and held them in their places. The third one, who sat between them stayed as he was, and stared the King down with his rheumy eyes. 

[b]"Your Highness, have mercy. It was my idea, I was the one who led 'em astray, committing this crime knowingly. Take both hands, or a head from me. But leave 'em be, they have families who need 'em, who will go hungry without them. I am old, have no mouths to feed, take me in their stead."[/b] 

His words made Ozragad stop in his tracks. He looked them again, more closely this time. They were all raggedly dressed, and were pitifully thin, the old man especially. The King's brow furrowed into a stern yet contemplative frown.

[b][color=f7941d]"You knew this King's Land, and you hunted on it anyway. Why?"[/color][/b]

[b]"We're from Cradoc village, sire. Ashfall took most our harvest, steward took the rest to be sent to the capital. There's not enough food in the village, young 'uns are going hungry. We don't want trouble with the law, but we weren't prepared to starve."[/b]

For a while the King said nothing. Then he sheathed his blade and turned his back on the prisoners and went to remount his horse. 

[b][color=f7941d]"There's no game for us here. We have a hunt to be getting on with. Leave these men in peace."[/color][/b]

Ozragad made a mental note to stop by Cradoc village on their return journey back to the capital. 

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It took a while for them to pick up another trail. The sun was getting low in the sky and they had scoured the other side of the woods from where they had come across of the poachers. When the dogs had picked up a scent they had all gone charging along after them as a single party, branches and vines whipping past them as they rode along the narrow forest trails.

This was more like what a hunt should be, Ozragad decided. It was easy to forget the worries and cares of the world beyond this forest, forget everything apart from the challenge of following the hounds and staying atop his mount. But he knew he would have to emerge from here at some point, go through the pageantry of the court once again, face the Princess, face Manawyndan. But for now he was free to ride as he pleased. Ozragad took pleasure in that simply freedom. 

They burst from the darkest of the forest into a long clearing cut across by a stream, and there, bounding over the rocky waters, was another stag. It was easily larger than the one the poacher's had taken, a mighty beast that had battled its way through many an autumn rut. But now it was no longer the master of the forest anymore, a more dangerous beast had arrived to hunt it down, and bring it to its end. One of the hunters had already loosed a shaft that had taken in its hind quarters, it was leaving a steady trail of blood now. 

[b][color=f26522]"Come on! We will have it yet!"[/color][/b] The King roared and spurred his horse forward again. In the clear ground it began to show its superior breeding, gathering speed and beginning to put some distance between it and the other riders. The only one who managed to keep up was Elethiomel. 

The dogs paced back and forth along the stream edge, searching for a place to cross, hampered by its high banks and swift current. Ozragad did not slow his horse, he did not search for a place to cross. Instead he rallied his stallion once more, sending it charging up to the edge of the gully and made it leap at the very last moments. Its front legs made contact with the top of the opposite bank and the horse frantically scrambled its hind legs to reach the top. But Ozragad did not give it time to pause, he turned it in the direction of the Stag and rode towards the opposite tree line. 

When he got there he realised he was alone, save for Elethiomel. The rest of the party's horses had baulked at the jump, they had been forced to slow and find a lower place or cross. He could see Rhiathon waving at him to slow down or come back. But he was almost on top of his quarry now. If he stopped and turned back they might lose the trail and be forced to return to camp empty handed, to start all over again in the morning. His pride wouldn't let him do that, he would finish this. 

[b][color=f7941d]"Boy, with me now. Let's end this."[/color][/b] He commanded the youth, and they disappeared into the trees together. 

It was a darker inside, but the blood trail was easy enough to follow. They had to go slower in woods, but they moved as swiftly and silently as they could. All went well until they came to a fork in the path they had been following. There were no blood splatters on either side, nor any tracks that seemed to be recent. Keen not to lose the beast, Ozragad decided to split them up, sending his kinsman down one branch, while he would go down the other. If they found the trail again they would call the other over. 

Ozrand went down the lower branch, which quickly descended into a series of rocky hollows and muddy pools, overshadowed with dense pine stands. In the soft mud he could sight of fresh deer tracks and a spot of blood. He called for Elethiomel. There was no answer. The rocky walls of the hollows must have captured the sound somehow. No matter, he rode onwards.

The path he was following reached a dead end, a sheer cliff rose up at the other end, impossible for any beast to climb. The stag was trapped there at the end of the trail, blood still dripping from his arrow wound, now heavily limping. Ozragad pulled the hunting spear from its holder on his saddle. The stag regarded him warily as he approached ever closer, pinning it back to the rock wall. Suddenly it tried to bolt away, not yet ready to accept its fate. Ozragad shifted in his seat and raised the spear above his shoulder, hurling it at the stag as it tried to run past him and escape to freedom. 

He was so focused on the throw and the passage of the spear as it flew through the air, that he did not see the arrow that was shot from the top of the cliff. 

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When he came to his senses, he was lying on the ground, a terrible pain in his left ankle. 

It was his horse. The arrow had missed him and killed his horse. It had trapped one of his legs as it had fell. 

He could hear barking and shouting all around him. 

Rhiathon came into his vision, quickly followed by Urathon. They were calling out to him. He reached out and grabbed his captain of the guard by the front of her cloak.

[color=f7941d][b]"Not a word... not a word of this to anyone..."[/b][/color]

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It was full dark by the time the hunting party returned. 

They carried with them one great slain beast... and a wounded one too.