There were only a few small, rough paths remaining unbarred in their course near Sæthryd's dwelling. To those paths she hurried, covering them over with fallen boughs as best she could. Strangers drew near, and quickly. She would steer them off the paths into the woods and hope they they would become lost amidst the trees.
She worked, more urgency in her bearing than might have been seen in a wildcat guarding her den against a hunter, until the sound of a barking dog echoed behind her. Her hands unclenched from the large branch she had been dragging through the wood and she stared back towards her hut, rubbing raw and dirty hands against her tattered dress.
Something was there. Breathing hard, Sæthryd stalked back along the path, searching for the unwelcome trespassers. Her hut came in to view, and Sæthryd hissed sharply. A horse, its rider fallen in the snow, stood near the open door. There was a dog too.
Sæthryd ran out of the cover of the wood. Where one rider came, others would follow. She would have to play a careful game to keep the secrets of the mountain from them.
Last edited by Celuien; 02-26-2007 at 07:39 PM.
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