A/N: CW for description of hunting (not graphic, but sorry animal lovers)
Much of the next day was devoted to reaching the river, and then searching for signs of promising prey. A few contenders caught the prince's eye, but eventually they found sizeable tracks and antler scrapes of a large buck…and possible traces of at least one wolf also on the prowl. Vigilance was crucial now. They forewent meat for supper that night in case it attracted the predator, and staggered watches so no one would be on lookout alone.
The third morning saw Caspian's hunt pick up on earnest. The buck led them upstream into the foothills of the border mountains. Around midday they skirted past a steep waterfall above a rocky chasm cut into the wooded terrain.
Suddenly the prince thrust an arm out in a signal to halt. All four members crouched low, Geoffrey trying to keep the pack horse quiet at the same time. They heard before they saw anything. A snuffling exhale. The rustle of underbrush.
The buck emerged from behind a clump of trees uphill to the hunting party. It stood an impressive height even before one accounted for the splendid rack it carried. Slowly, once sure the animal hadn't sensed their presence, Caspian unshouldered his crossbow. Ned did the same so a second shot would be at the ready.
Pheww!
The bolt struck deeply below the buck's neck, a damaging hit but not an incapacitating one. It darted, predictably.
"Good shot, Sire!" crowed Geoffrey. Caspian swapped crossbows, and jumped to his full height.
"Save your praise, this isn't over yet."
They broke cover to give chase. Caspian took the lead, flanked by Peter and Ned, with Geoffrey guiding the horse. Even injured however, the buck was difficult to keep up with. It kept them running full-tilt through the thick woods until Peter's legs screamed for rest. Yet Caspian hadn't tried to make another shot. On the chase went—Ned tripped over a fallen branch, but Peter slowed just enough to catch his arm. The prince disappeared over a ridge.
Just as the pair reached the top, they caught sight of the buck struggling to maintain speed. Now Caspian took aim, and this time his quarry went down.
"Well—that was—eventful," Ned gasped.
"You knew letting him run for a while would do part of the work," mused Peter, following Caspian to inspect the magnificent catch.
"Something like that." The prince grinned from ear to ear as he tried to steady his own breath. "Let's get this sorted so we can have it ready when Geoffrey catches up with the horse."
The hair on Peter's neck stood on end. He scanned their surroundings. Nothing seemed out of place at ground level. To one side of them, a rocky outcrop roughly a man's height blocked some of his view.
All he caught was a snarl and a blur headed for Caspian from overhead. Peter dove at his friend, propelling him out of the way. Claws raked his upper arm and shoulder blade. Two humans and a furry mass tumbled away.
"Sire!"
Peter rolled to his feet and drew his sword in one smooth motion. Fortunately the pain was only in his left arm. Caspian did the same some feet away. On the other side of the buck crouched a wolf with bits of Peter's sleeve under its paws.
"What are the odds, two at once?" quipped Caspian. A second lunge of the beast sent them diving in opposite directions—and further away from the dropped crossbow. Ned was doing fate-new-what with the other one. Now with a choice of targets, the wolf stalked after Peter, presumably due to the scent of fresh blood.
It snapped at his warning swings, but didn't immediately pounce again. Peter caught glimpses of Caspian trying to sneak around the animal's flank. "Keep your distance, your Highness!"
"Whose hunt is this again?"
"And who's supposed to make sure you stay in one piece?"
The wolf caught on to Caspian's movement, and changed direction. Peter threw all caution to the wind. "Over here, you big brute! You haven't finished me off yet!" He even clipped the beast's haunches with his sword point.
It worked. The wolf rounded again jaws-first, which Peter only just managed to block with his blade. One paw snagged his shirtfront but didn't reach flesh. Caspian took the opening to drive his own sword into the wolf's side. The blow drove it to the ground, nearly taking Peter with it. He landed heavily on one knee.
"Peter!"
"I'm all right," he croaked, mouth and throat totally dry.
"You're a bloody mess—"
"Partly thanks to you, is all. It's the wolf's blood." The next moment he yelped as Caspian forcefully turned him to inspect his back and shoulder. "Easy, there!"
"Looks shallow at least. Shouldn't be too hard to bandage. Can you move everything?"
"Yes, it just stings a bit. I'll be fine. What about you Sire, are you injured?"
"Scraped up some from hitting the ground, nothing more," shrugged Caspian. They both startled when Ned finally came stumbling to meet them.
"We'll certainly have a story to tell at home now!" the shorter man crowed.
Peter sheathed his sword. "A fresh crossbow could have made it a little easier."
"Damn thing jammed as I reloaded it. And by the time I got that over with, I couldn't get a clear shot. A thousand apologies."
"What counts is that we handled it," said Caspian. "Let's get to work on these two so they're ready to load up when Geoffrey gets here with the horse."
"A buck and a wolf though, I'd say that bodes well for your kingship," Peter pointed out. Caspian couldn't resist a triumphant smile.
Once the fourth member of their party arrived, things moved quickly. Caspian insisted on making sure Peter's injuries were dressed before they set off again. Of course this leg of the journey was when the adrenaline crash began to take effect, along with realizing exactly how far they had run. Dusk already began to fall by the time they could hear the rush of the waterfall.
"Let's camp here tonight," suggested Geoffrey. "We'll all make better time after we've rested up."