Free The Edge of Light by Joan Wolf

one dreadful moment in the courtyard she had been afraid she was going to lose her chance to hunt; Athulf would go only so far for her against their mother. But the West Saxon prince had saved her. He had done it quite deliberately, too. She had seen that clear enough. He had had an unfair advantage of her mother, and he had taken it. Ruthlessly. Elswyth thoroughly approved of such tactics. Her only regret was that she herself held such an advantage all too seldom.
    The summer day was warm; too warm in the sun, but under the canopy of trees in the forest it was cool and green and perfect for the hunt. Elswyth was never so happy as when she was out on horseback, wildly galloping after the hounds. Sometimes she thought that it was only with animals that she was ever really happy. People of late seemed to make so many demands, never seemed to be satisfied with her the way she was. Even her brothers, with whom she had lived all her life—even they had changed since her father died.
    But she and Silken—and here Elswyth leaned forward to pat the shining dappled gray neck of her little gelding—she and Silken understood each other completely, were always in perfect accord.
    The nets had been set by the huntsmen, and the hounds were doing their work of driving the game into them. Elswyth sat her horse at a little distance from the kill. It was the chase she loved, not its conclusion. It was not so much the blood that dismayed her as it was a sense of the unfairness of it all. The deer tangled in the nets did not have a chance against the men and the spears. Elswyth favored a fight that was more even.
    Half an hour later, she saw one.
    The huntsmen had found a boar in the thickness of the forest along the river. A huge boar, the largest Elswyth had ever seen. They had maneuvered him into a clearing around a forest pond, and he was standing there when they came up, his back to the pond, the sun shining on his hard gray bristles and wicked white tusks. The mounted nobles halted within the cover of the trees as he snorted and pawed the ground. He was a ferocious-looking beast, Elswyth thought in awe. She had not known boars could be so big. He snorted again savagely, planted his short legs wide, and lowered his snout to the ground. His small eyes glowed red as they surveyed the men and horses before him.
    Suddenly, “He’s mine!” called a crisp, commanding voice, and Elswyth saw Alfred leap from his horse and advance into the clearing, spear in hand.
    Her heart jolted, then began to race. At her shoulder, Athulf voiced her own silent protest. “That boar is too big for the prince.” Her brother looked around, but no one was moving. His black brows snapped together. “Alfred will never be able to hold him,” Athulf muttered, jumped from his saddle, and took up his own spear.
    The boar had seen Alfred coming and he pawed the ground again. Foam dripped from his jaws. The cruel, curving tusks glinted in the bright sun. The red eyes fixed themselves upon the prince.
    Alfred must have heard Athulf s step, for he turned his head very quickly and snarled at the Mercian, “Keep away.” For a moment, with his glittering eyes and bared white teeth, he looked fully as dangerous as the boar.
    Athulf stopped dead.
    The boar charged straight for Alfred.
    For a beat of time Elswyth felt as if her heart and breath had stopped. Athulf was right. The West Saxon prince was too slim, too light, to hold a boar of that size on his spear. Alfred knelt, spear advanced, and then the boar was on him. Elswyth shut her eyes.
    A shout went up from the men around her. She opened her eyes in time to see Alfred rising to his feet, She stared, and realized with astonishment that he had got the boar right through the heart. As she watched, he turned in the direction of his brother, the king, and grinned. His entire right arm was covered with the boar’s blood. Elswyth saw the white teeth flashing in the golden tan of his face. Then she looked at the boar,