Edited 1/22/22 - all chapters are getting a overhaul. Things might not match until this process is complete.
Apparently using potatoes is a old farmer's trick to get slivers out of your skin. Who knew?

I do not the Inheritance Cycle


The Hunter and His Bow

Rose sat with her legs tucked underneath her in front of the stranger, her left hand resting in his large palms. She flinched each time his fingers traced over the mutilated skin. His hands were rough and callused, rubbing against the raw skin painfully. The man let out a low whistle, and his dog looked up at the sound and watched them with dark curious eyes.

"Don't know where to begin," he admitted. "Yeh took a great stumble."

Rose swallowed and withdrew her hands, setting them on her lap, her palms facing up towards the sky. "If you cannot help me, I should not have followed you."

The stranger chuckled bleakly and, stood up and walked around the flickering campfire, picking up a discarded pot. The man strolled near his dog, which arose and began to trot behind its master, to the edge of the campsite where he began to heap handfuls of supple snow into the metal pot.

The stranger's acrimonious encampment was a small paddock covered with trampled snow where a small faded caravan rested facing the riverbed. The caravan's overhang was strung with a thick colored twine and hung from the cords were colored glass bottles that swayed in the breeze. A heated fire spat and sputtered not far from the caravan. Nearby, at the edge of the glade, two mismatched horses grazed on crisp turf.

Rose shivered in her damp clothes and hugged her arms around her chest.

The man strode back to the fire and placed the pot on top a small iron grill over the flame. He then unfastened his cloak and draped the thick fabric over her shoulders. Rose muttered her thanks and curled into the cloak, huffing at the bitter stink of alcohol that burned her nose.

The man nodded and rushed to the caravan swinging the squeaking door open, shooing the dog away. He lifted himself inside. The caravan rocked fiercely and dipped with his weight. For a long period of time he could be heard banging objects together and rummaging inside the small shelter.

Shortly after the man shut himself inside the caravan, his dog walked toward Rose and lay down an arm's length away. Rose leaned forward and reached out with her right hand to the dog. The dog looked down at her palm and made a sound similar to a grunt as it sniffed her fingers with its brown nose before licking its chops. When the dog laid down and crossed its paws, Rose scoot closer to it and rubbed its velvety ears with her fingers. The hound closed its small black eyes as she scratched it behind its ears, fingering its soft feathered coat until it got up and bound toward the caravan. Rose followed the dog's movement with her eyes and saw that the stranger had exited the caravan and was making his way toward them, a brown half-full bottle in one hand and bandages, a misshapen russet potato, along with a small grey clay jar in the other.

The man kneeled in front of her and lifted the pot off the grill and set in between them, on the dirt ground. "Soak yer hands in there," he said pointing to the pot.

Rose leaned forward and peered into the rough pot. Inside most of the snow had melted but large portions of slush drifted formlessly on the surface.

Loosening her hold on the cloak, Rose dipped her hand into the tepid water, wincing as the coarse snow-slush grazed her sores and cuts. Rose looked up and watched the man as he worked.

His face was arresting; still in its youth however lost was the childish plumpness, the countenance of a man of perhaps twenty-five years. He was high-cheekboned, with a firm mouth and large, deep-set eyes.

He looked up and caught her gaze unsympathetically.

"Dunion," he said, laying the potato on a flat rock.

Rose faltered. "Pardon?"

He pulled a long hunting knife from his belt.

"My name," he sighed drastically, "You should know it so that you can thank me properly. I get pleasure from many things, but I prefer wealth so don't be hesitant to send yer father's gold my way."

Rose blinked and stared at him in astonishment, taken back by his boldness. Never has she been spoken to in such a way, and she felt her temper rise.

She took a deep breath to compose herself and sat back. "My father has no gold," Rose said, watching him slice the potato into long slices.

Dunion smiled cheerfully at her. His smirk only grew wider as Rose glowered back at him. "He must," said he in confidence.

He placed the lengthy blade back on his belt and leaned forward, drawing one of her hands out of the water. The man picked up and placed the acrid white potato flesh onto her hands. She gasped and pulled her hand against his grip in shock when the contact burned and stung, but the man's grip held fast and she could not break free. He looked up at her warningly and then looked back down at her hands before continuing his work.

"You do not know me, stranger, therefore do not say what my father does and does not take ownership in."

"You know," Dunion said as he began to wrap the potato and her hand in the bandages, "you noble ladies can rub as much dirt and grime on yeh as you want but yeh can't ever hide what you are. Yer kind act too mighty and always speak in twisted tongues. It's sickening. So when will I get my gold, lady?"

"Gold for what?" Rose scoffed.

"My services, lady!" He cried, pulling at her hand. Rose cried out as his thumbs pressed onto a deep cut. "I just saved yer life, yer obliged to pay me!"

"You didn't revive me and even if you did I have nothing to give you as imbursement," Rose stated.

Dunion cursed briskly and tied the potato padded dressings securely. He then abrasively grabbed her left wrist out of the pot and positioned the raw white flesh of the potato onto her palm. He looked up from his work twice to glance at Rose in displeasure but he did not speak again until he was close to complete with wrapping her hand, in a less than gentle fashion. "No gold?" He asked finally.

Rose winced as he pulled the dressings taut.

"No," she said in a high voice, "I have no gold."

Dunion swore again and he was not as swift in holding his tongue as before. At the sound of its master's aggravation the bronze and white spattered dog stood up and sprung toward them. It placed its paws on Dunion's lap and whined. "Go away, Wolf," he said, pushing the dog down.

The dog, Wolf, whimpered but obeyed and laid down, its backside pressing against Dunion's thigh. Almost absent mindedly, Dunion began to scratch Wolf's furry head.

"His name is Wolf?" Rose asked while watching the dog's stubbed tail wag avidly.

Dunion looked up at her scowling, "Her name is Wolf."

"That's a fitting name," said she looking at the dog's petite body.

Dunion grunted.

"I've set out some dry clothes for you, Lady," he said taking a long draft from his bottle. "I set 'em on the cot. You should get dressed and cleaned up before I take 'em spuds off you. You can eat lunch with me and Wolf. Then if you like I'll lead you back to yer path."

Rose stood up slowly. Her legs still ached from her morning run.

"Will you not require your clothing back?" She asked.

Dunion pulled his top lip up in a snarl and took another gulp of his liquor.

"Nay," he said, "You can have 'em, they an't mine, lady." He said with a tone of twisted humor.

Rose looked away and cautiously walked past him to the grimy caravan. She placed her hand on the peeling door and turned to look at Dunion, she watched him take another long draft from his bottle, which was likely filled with liquor, and she turned away.

When Rose pushed open the door it groaned in protest and she lifted herself up into the inside of the caravan. A bitter stench was the first thing she noticed about the caravan, it burned her nose and assaulted her senses. She cringed and tried to considerate on breathing through her mouth. The caravan was small and cramped. Utensils and belongings were thrown everywhere, and bottles of oil and grains and pickles were stacked at the far end near narrow bunks. There were bright cloths thrown onto the floor and on top of cabinets and hand-carved ornaments and wooden toys. Rose picked up a little man made of white wood and held it on her padded palm of her hand.

There was no sign of children outside, or any other person other than Dunion for that matter. She took a deep breath and shuddered. The quicker she left the campsite and Dunion behind her, the better. Dropping the figurine back onto the floor, Rose slowly made her way to the back of the cramped caravan, careful so that she did not step on anything. Placed on the bed was a pan filled with clear liquid and a cloth, and as Dunion promised some clothes: a long dark green shirt under a thin wool belt and a pair of trousers and a jerkin knitted of raw goat's wool and a stoutly woven cloak with significantly stitched animals embroidering the hood and sleeves, along with a sizable cloth rucksack. Carefully, Rose undressed and set her soiled clothing within the rucksack. She cleaned off the mud on her body, wary of her tender sores. Then she slipped on the square-necked shirt and tied the belt slackly around her waist before slipping on the trousers and jerkin and lastly the cloak. Getting dressed took a longer time than she would have liked, being slowed by her hands and she often dropped the article of clothing she was putting on.

While dressing Rose had unthinkingly kicked her boots under the ledge of the bed and when she went to proceed to put them on she could not find them. After a moment of glancing around the caravan, she leaned down on her hands and looked under the bed. The nook was too swathed in shadow to see into and so Rose blindly reached her hands inside the alcove and felt around. It did not take long for her pull out a single boot, this she set aside and dug in deeper. Her hand came across something wet and she cringed but kept searching, the next object she touched was cool and smooth like hardened silk and it rolled away noisily as soon as she reached for it. Rose gasped and blinked before reaching in deeper. Feeling for the object with the tips of her fingers, she ducked her head underneath the eave and searched until she felt it and grabbed at it. It rolled away again and she tucked herself in deeper. After a short moment she felt it again but before it had the chance to roll away she grabbed ahold of it with both hands. Rose pulled herself out and stared at the oval object for a long moment in disbelief. She shook herself and reached in for her other boot, which she found at the very back of nook. Rose dragged her boot out with difficulty, almost hitting her head on the base of the bed, and stood up and pulled the pack off the bed and drew out her damp clothing. She leaned over and studied the object from under the bed in dumb shock.

How had the lost dragon egg end up here for all places? It was so far from where Ailis had lead Tornac and herself. For Rose to come across it, here in this unlikely place, was impossible. Unfeasible was the fact that she would see a fey wisp, fall down a massive gradient and then proceed to be aided by a strange, the very person who just happened to have the one object that she and her party were hopelessly searching the wilds for. Rose shook her head. This day did not make sense!

There was something amiss and she could not distinguish what it might be but it put a disturbing knot in her gut. If she could get some answers perhaps she make a logical conclusion about what was happening, however she could not. She could not ask Dunion how he had come across the egg but as Rose did not want him to know she found it and planning on returning to her company with it.

Rose scowled up at the ceiling, would Dunion chase after her when he discovered her theft?

Straightening her back Rose carefully wrapped the egg in her soiled clothing ensuring that every inch of its ruby surface was veiled before placing it within the sack. With the egg wrapped it was too big for the rucksack, and she fastened it as much as she could but the corner of her cloak hung out from the opening.

Rose slung the rucksack onto her back, under the cloak, and slipped her arms through the rope straps and weaved her way to the entrance of the caravan cursing herself for leaving her sword behind at the cabin. Halfway to the wobbly wood door, Rose looked around and dug randomly through a number of chests until she came across a hunting-knife with a blade as long as her hand, which she tucked underneath her jerkin.

Outside, Rose saw Dunion roast a slab of red meat on a wooden stake and that Wolf was off in the trees. Rose walked over to the fire but did not sit down. Dunion looked up at her with an irritated expression.

"Lunch," he said waving his hand at the meat.

Rose swallowed the salvia that had gathered in her mouth at the smell of the roasting food.

"I can see that," Rose said with a frown. She fingered the cord of the bag with uncertainly and she asked, "Was the bag meant for me?"

Dunion scowled and looked at her across the fire. "If it weren't for you, lady, I wouldn't of set it out."

Rose narrowed her eyes and looked at the ground.

"Thank you," she said mordantly, handing Dunion the fur-lined cloak he let her borrow earlier, which he took and immediately wrapped himself in.

"Yer very welcome, Lady Marsh," he said, matching her tone. "Now come here, so I can deal with yer hands."

Rose made her way over to him and sat as far from him as could be within arm's length. Dunion unwrapped her hands quickly and without word. He slowly pulled off the potato meat tossing it into the air at Wolf, who hurried over not long after Rose sat down. Wolf caught each slice of potato and gulped it down. When each of her hands were free of the potato slices, and to her amazement the slivers, Dunion massaged a creamy, foul smelling salve from the grey jar he brought out earlier onto her palms and rebound with them same fabric as before.

As soon as Dunion announced he was complete with his task, Rose moved away. Dunion took her skittishness as cue to pull the meat from the fire. He cut the meat on the same flattened stone as the potatoes, into three pieces. The first hunk of meat he tossed to Wolf and the second he handed Rose a piece with his fingers. Rose took it and toyed with the charred veal until she saw Dunion take a bite, only then did she bite into the tough meat herself. The meat was dry and difficult to chew but flavorful and satisfying.

Neither of them talked while they ate, both wrapped up in their own thoughts. When Dunion had finished with his share he licked his fingers, and belched loudly, she only stared at him. He stretched himself out, bowing his back and whistled loudly to Wolf. He then strode to the caravan and around to the back, coming back moments later with a long hunting knife, a bow slung across his back and a quiver of arrows. The man looked to Rose, who was watching his movements anxiously, and beckoned her forth.

She took a last mouthful of the meat and stood as well.

"Listen, lady," he said, "I have some hunting to do and you need to get back to yer father and his pretty estate. So here's the deal, I guide you to a trail and then yeh go home and if yer father decides he does in fact have some crowns lying about after all, you'll send 'em my way, yeah?"

Rose nodded, her eyes narrowing. She was not going to argue with this man any longer.

Dunion grinned at her happily and walked to a well worn trail that the edge of the camp. He was quiet throughout the hike though clearly impatient. Wolf, was the opposite of its master, bounding through the woods with her tail wagging and nose pressed to the ground snorting at trees and bushes. Rose followed close behind in matching silence, grasping the handle of her knife.

After a period of time, Dunion came to a stop at the top of an incline.

"If you stay along the river," he said, pointing to the steep hill where not far below a stream flowed steadily without signs of ice, "you will find yer trail from before. Keep the hill to yer right and you'll be fine."

"Thank you," she nodded.

Dunion looked behind him and turned away. "Take care, Lady Marsh," he said.

"Farewell," Rose said.

Dunion called for Wolf once more and went back the way they had come. Rose watched him in silence, until she saw him fade from view and then she set down the diminutive trail the dragon egg swaying from inside the sack.