Free Tales of the Wolf: Book 01 - The Coming of the Wolf by A. E. McCullough Page B

the small leather bag, Tatianna raised one eyebrow. “Leaf?”
    “Aye lass, leaf from da tobacco plant. That bag came all the way from Southfields.”
    “Southfields? Isn’t that a halfling community near Asylum?”
    Rjurik nodded and began packing his pipe. “Aye, it’s a small farming community mostly halfling families but a few dwarves have settled there also. My cousin Gram has a farm on the west side; every year he sends me several bags o’ leaf.”
    Lighting his pipe from a coal out of the campfire, Rjurik took a deep pull. “Of course, this is the last bag. For some reason, Gram didn’t send a shipment this year. I hope nothing has happened to him.”
    Khlekluëllin returned with his bucket of snow and Tatianna discovered some dried beef and beans. Rjurik pulled some potatoes out of his backpack and proceeded to combine everything into a stew. The small cave became filled with the wonderful aroma making Khlekluëllin’s stomach rumble loud enough that everyone awake could hear it.
    Giving the stew another stir, Rjurik flicked a glance at the blue haired elf. “If I didn’t know better, I would say you’re hungry.”
    Sitting cross-legged, Khlekluëllin smiled. “Until you began cooking, I’d forgotten how hungry I was.” Scratching his chin, he added, “Which doesn’t make sense. We have eaten rather well these last few days all things considered. I never knew that rabbits were so abundant in the Highlands.”
    Tatianna nodded. “Or that anyone was so adept at catching them.”
    Adding a pinch of salt from a small pouch, Rjurik looked up from his stew. “Conies are easy to catch once ye know how but eating them every day, like we’ve been doing, can sap a man’s strength.”
    “Really?” Tatianna raised an eyebrow and asked, “How?”
    Taking a sip of the stew, Rjurik grinned. “Now see here, I ain’t no expert. I can tell ye what I know; not why I know it.”
    “Rabbit meat is too lean,” said a voice from behind them. Turning, the companions discovered the snow covered form of Hawkeye standing in the cave entrance.
    “About time ya showed up,” Rjurik said. “I thought we would have to eat without ye.”
    The hunter dusted off the snow. “I’m not late. I arrived at the time I planned, when the stew was ready and not a moment before.”
    With a nod of greeting to Khlekluëllin, Hawkeye sat down at the fire and turned slightly to face Tatianna before continuing. “I was saying that rabbits are an extremely lean meat. A diet of only rabbit meat will fill the belly but starve the soul.”
    Cocking her head slightly, Tatianna felt herself straighten her back ever so slightly. “I don’t understand.”
    “I agree with Rjurik, I am not an expert either. I was taught that a true warrior must maintain a balanced diet, one rich in meats and vegetables.” He pointed at the stew. “Now this isn’t exactly what my uncle had in mind when he said that but it will do.”  
    “Bah,” was all Rjurik said although he was grinning the whole time.
    The elves noticed a change in the dwarf now that Hawkeye had returned. He seemed more relaxed and he no longer glanced at the cave entrance. Obviously, the highlander’s sudden departure had worried him more than he let them believe. Rjurik produced several wooden bowls from his backpack, filled them with stew and passed them out. Filling a fifth bowl, Rjurik moved over to the injured elf. Mortharona seemed to be running a fever.
    Rjurik looked up at Hawkeye and said, “He doesn’t look good.”
    “I know. That’s just one of the things worrying me at the moment.”
    Setting aside his bowl of stew, Khlekluëllin asked, “Is there anything we can do for him?”
    “We need to get him to a shaman soon,” Hawkeye said. “He’s only going to get worse.”
    “What’s wrong with him?” asked Tatianna.
    “My best guess is that he has a cracked skull.” Hawkeye pointed at the bandage. “See how the seepage isn’t only bloody but mixed with a