a tale of decisions - not much is decided

Prince David's life rolled on with little excitement, and he refused to visit the Seer again until she apologized and addressed him properly.  Edmund did not push the issue.  He had never put much trust in seers anyway, and had been slightly alarmed by her recent provocations.  Soon, though, the visitors who once had been content to spend a few days chatting blandly at princely meals and strolling aimlessly through royal gardens began to seek out more exciting pleasures at the palace.  They began to seek out Meleneche.  "How she knows the trails!" they exclaimed afterwards, "How well she understands the game!"  The Prince was bemused by the new dinner commentary.  It seemed nobody cared to work on diplomatic matters at his palace anymore, they all wanted to relax and enjoy a good hunt.  It is true that not every hunt ended with a game beast on the table or trophies sent off for mounting, but the thrill of the chase was charming and exhilarating, and any courtier or noble with any amount of athletic skill was drawn to have a run in Meleneche's pack.

Actually, Prince David didn't really mind; it left his palace quiet for the most part.  Even at mealtimes when the guests were chattering about the plans or the results, they controlled themselves.  Before the hunt it was to avoid jinxing their chances, and afterwards they were too tired to make much fuss.  Only Edmund the Advisor worried about the political repercussions.  Finally, he tried to take the Prince aside to speak of this serious matter, but the Prince brushed him off, saying, "Edmund, everything is running perfectly.  Only the most pressing complaints reach my ears, and I have plenty of time to deal with them now that I am not distracted by petty concerns."

"But Highness, nobody has brought any business for the past two weeks.  The guests only come to hunt."

"Precisely, Edmund, everything is fine," and the Prince strode away to his library to reorder his treatises on grilling.  Edmund shook his head, beginning to worry in earnest.

Of course, quiet times can simply be that.  But often something is happening under the surface, just waiting for its moment to bubble up.

Unknown to everyone at the palace, conspirators had taken to the mountains, enemies of the Duchess of Sotelo.  They had no quarrel with Prince David or his family, but neither did they have any friendship to offer him.  They had assumed the Prince's lackadaisical attitude towards the mountain hunt would allow them to remain hidden as long as they wanted.  The new Huntmaker's talent for finding hidden trails and secretive game was an unwelcome surprise.  Meleneche actually had no idea there were people holed up in little caves and shelters, although she did sometimes wonder about the traces of activity she found.  "Some Huntmaker," she would say later.  "Huntmaker, not soldier or bounty hunter," she would be told in reply.

The conspirators tolerated the hunt for some months.  They expected the activity to die down when winter came with its chill winds and stinging snow, and were unhappily surprised once again when the number and range of hunts did not in fact drop.  Meleneche had groups on horseback and foot, even camping on occasion, taking deer, boars, birds, and bears as game when they could.  Despite the fact that nobody had any idea the conspirators were there - even in Sotelo there were no rumors that placed them on the mountain - their agitation grew with every passing hunt.  They decided they needed to discourage further intrusions into the forest and the mountain.  They turned to their advisor.  He promised them, smiling broadly, that soon enough he would have the Count's daughter, not to mention every other noble in the realm, with no desire to return.

On a frosty fall morning, the air is clear and the light is pleasant.  It is a good time to hunt.  On one such morning, Meleneche saddled her horse and gathered her small hunting party in the stable yard.  They were hoping to spot a Great Elk, one of the prize trophies of the mountains, but it was understood to be unlikely.  Few were left, and they were swift.  The hunting party was serious but undemanding.  They were all well-experienced, both with this Hunt-Maker to the Royal House, and with hunts in general.  It had become a greater challenge to follow Meleneche over the trails with the dangers of a horse shying or falling than to merely shoot some poor beast.  The Prince's Hunt was fast evolving into a steeplechase.  The group was mounted on sturdy, mature horses, experienced on the trails already, and trusting of their riders.  These were not mounts to see stumble and lose the crowd.  They were walking their calm steeds to the gate when they were surprised to hear brighter, lighter hoofbeats behind them, and the Prince himself call out, "Do not leave your Prince behind, good courtiers!"  Not only not left, but allowed to pass to the front, nearly abreast to the Huntmaker, the Prince and his spirited chestnut mount joined the party.  Nobody would say a word to him, of course, but many an experienced eye caught another, silently trading impatience over that mount.  Such a nervous beast would cause nothing but trouble on the chase.  A more fawning Huntmaker would adjust the hunt to something more in line with the Prince's steed's abilities, he carried the Prince on his back after all, but Meleneche was not in the habit of changing her plans for anyone or anything but the most dire of weather.  The stage was set for an inevitable bad experience.

To everyone's relief, the party rode for almost two hours with no problems.  The pace was relaxed, the horses calm, the riders alert but not tense.  They stopped at a broad stream for the horses to drink and to work out any last minute details for the next leg of the ride.  Although ascending the mountain had gone well, the horses needed a break.  Meleneche was nervous, but controlled herself well.  She had let rumors of the elk go among the party, but her plan was actually another.  She meant to track a lone wolf that had been harassing wood cutters.  These solitary creatures were generally old or sick, which was why they had been thrown out of the pack, and no trouble for mounted hunters even if they could successfully attack a person on foot.  It had been seen mostly on the north side, prowling through stands of trees.  It had killed nobody - yet.  But it was a nuisance and had to be dealt with.  In fact, that was the true reason why Prince David had joined the party; although he had mentioned it to nobody, he was concerned about his reputation as protector of his people.  While his nobles kept their eyes open for tall and slender beasts, he would scan the landscape for signs of thin and slinking creatures of the shadows.

When all seemed restored to full energy, the party mounted up to start the ride into the Deep Forest.  There was a band of thickly wooded mountainside between the more cultivated trees and the sparse higher altitudes.  The ground was always shaded and movement through it was slow.  Except for wolves, apparently.  While most of the party believed they were taking a shortcut to the elk's most likely haunts, both Meleneche and David were purposely stalking a dweller of darkness.  As they moved into the dimness under the intertwined branches, David lamented to himself never having bothered to find hunting hounds.  When dealing with a wolf, it seemed safer to have some "hands on the ground".  Of course, it was too late for that now.  The hunting party gradually disappeared into the heavy underbrush and shadow of the Deep Forest.  Prince David's horse was getting more and more nervous, but was unable to bolt or shimmy with the thick growth all around it.  The others shook their heads, more than one thinking, "I could have told him to pick a better horse."  But of course, they had said nothing, because he was the Prince and they weren't even his Advisors.  Then, suddenly, the other horses started to twitch and snort too, and everyone knew at once that something wasn't quite right.