Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale by Tracy Falbe Read Free Book Online

you,”
Andreli agreed.
    “Good luck getting some work out of them,”
Emerald said.
    “Oh, blunt your sharp tongue you mouthy
witch,” Andreli said teasingly.
    She rolled her eyes and then smiled at Thal.
“Find me a boar. I like that meat,” she said.
    “You think he can take requests like a
musician?” Andreli said.
    “There’s no reason not to tell him what I
want. I’ll give any man a chance to do what I tell him,” she
said.
    “I shall try,” Thal said.
    When he stood up, the clothing moving against
his skin still felt a little weird. He tossed his fur over his
shoulder and slipped out of the camp while trying to ignore the
many curious looks that tagged him.
    ******
    Thal patted one of the dogs trotting happily
alongside him. The explosive excitement of the dogs at being taken
on a hunt was only beginning to settle. Game was proving sparse so
close to settled lands. Peasants hunting through a cold hungry
winter had thinned the local stock, but Thal found signs of deer
slipping into pastures and budding orchards.
    Then the dogs dashed off chasing rabbits.
They caught a couple and tore them up and gulped them down before
any men got close. Thal could not blame the lean beasts for
claiming the meal, but he asserted his leadership and got them back
on the trail of larger game.
    Near the edge of the woods, he spotted
grazing cattle and felt the old temptation, but that easy meat
plodding along had consequences. Thal suspected that Gypsies
killing a local steer might earn the same punishment as hungry
wolves that dared to take livestock.
    Eventually, he led his hunting party into
brushy canyons. He and the dogs circled ahead of three deer and
drove them toward the hunters.
    One was slain. In the privacy of the woods,
the men gutted the buck. The dogs feasted gruesomely on the
entrails. The bloody sight triggered powerful feelings in Thal and
he needed to look away.
    Instead of retracing the meandering route of
the hunt, the group cut straight across country back to the river
camp. The sinking sun cast lovely golden shafts and intensified the
flowering green of springtime.
    Andreli and his men were jubilant. The
prospect of plenty of meat was a welcome boon to their community,
even if it was not the season for fat game.
    Walking beside Thal, Andreli said, “A fine
hunt, Thal. You must’ve been apprentice to a kennel master at some
castle. I swear these dogs have only eyes for you now.”
    Thal was growing used to Andreli’s frequent
speculations about his background. The comments were not unwelcome.
They helped to loosen details that had been long forgotten.
    “I don’t recall being apprentice to anyone,”
Thal said.
    “So you worked the fields with your father
then,” Andreli guessed.
    The face of Thal’s father loomed in his mind.
His bare head was bright like a full moon. A fleece hung around his
shoulders and tattoo runes crisscrossed his bare chest.
    “I don’t think my father was a farmer,” he
said.
    “No,” Andreli agreed pensively. “I suppose
that does not fit.”
    “Emerald will be disappointed we didn’t find
a boar,” Thal said.
    “I’m proud of our venison. I think we can
force her to admit that we did a good job,” Andreli said.
    The woods grew thinner and the land opened on
fields and orchards. The Gypsies hung back in the shadows of the
tree line so hopefully no one would spot them with their poached
game. But Andreli steered Thal into the open while the other men
went on. Thal shooed the dogs toward the men carrying the meat.
    Once clear of the trees Thal saw what Andreli
was showing him. Blooming orchards and orderly gardens surrounded
an impressive cluster of red-roofed buildings inside a stone wall.
Tall poles radiated cords tethered in a circle and the first thick
green shoots of hops vines were twining up the cords. A few men in
white and black robes were working throughout the property. A
church tower overlooked it all.
    “The Vyssi Brod Monastery,” Andreli