In nearly no time at all, Melitta had a small fire burning in the clearing. Supper, however, would be another matter. When she dug into the pouch George had given her, she found nothing but a few crumbs and a piece of cheese that looked like it had seen better days.
Like he'd said, if she wanted supper, she'd have to catch it herself.
Armed with only a dagger, she doubted she'd catch anything worth eating, if she even knew where to look.
She thought hard, remembering the times she'd gone hunting with the queen. The hunt she'd enjoyed most had been at a large lake where the river curved, and many birds congregated in the winter time. They'd shot so many, the whole court had feasted on goose for weeks. Queen Margareta had commented that hunting on the water hardly seemed fair, for every animal must drink and the hunters had so many advantages.
Melitta must find water, then, she decided. Both to drink, and to hunt. And water ran downhill, so all she had to do was head down, and she should find some. Satisfied with her logic, she set off in search of a stream.
Twice she considered turning back, but the second time, she thought she heard running water. Instead of stopping, this spurred her on, until Melitta splashed into a tiny stream. The rivulet was scarcely large enough to do more than wet her boots, but she followed it until she came to its end in what at first appeared to be little more than a puddle. Melitta parted the bushes and found herself ankle deep in a lake that stretched more than a hundred yards across. And on the edges, standing in the shallows, was a veritable badelynge of ducks.
Her heart soared, then sank to the very depths of the lake as she realised she had no way of catching any of them. Short of leaping on top of one and cutting its throat, which would surely frighten them all off. She'd end up covered in mud for the price of one bird, if she even managed to catch it.
No, there must be a better way.
The boys in the town outside the convent had occasionally brought birds to sell. Without shoes or weapons, she'd wondered how they managed to catch them. When she'd asked, one boy had showed her his slingshot. They'd thrown stones at the birds eating the grain in the fields, Melitta remembered now. The sisters had always bought the birds and baked them into big pies, sometimes even for the Harvest Feast.
The ducks were bigger than the boys' birds, but they should still fall to a well-placed stone. Melitta hunted along the lakeshore for suitable stones, tucking them into the pouch at her waist. When she had filled the pouch, Melitta crouched behind a bush, trying to decide which duck to target first.
That one. It looked plumper than the others – if she scared the rest away when she killed it, that one duck alone would make a suitable meal.
She grasped a stone and drew her hand back, ready to throw.
Without warning, the entire flock took flight, quacking and flapping in panic for no reason Melitta could see.
Melitta swore. Then she glimpsed movement out of the corner of her eye, and slowly turned.
The source of the panic stood calmly on the branch of a dead tree at the water's edge, clutching its dinner in one talon. The falcon might have been the twin of Queen Margareta's favourite hunting bird, but this magnificent creature wore no jesses. It was as free as the sky above, and judging from the tilt of its proud head, sovereign of all it surveyed.
"You cost me my dinner, bird," she muttered, sending the rock in his direction instead. Her missile fell woefully short, splashing into the water three yards from the tree.
Melitta tried again, and again. Each time she got closer, until finally one stone hit the branch beside the falcon. It spread its wings and took off, letting its prey fall as it flew away.
Without thinking, Melitta ran for the creature the falcon had caught, hoping it would be something suitable for her own dinner. She picked up the tiny bird, so small it fitted into her hand, and almost laughed. She'd seen bigger mice in the castle at home.
But as she scooped the bird up, she felt the thrumming of its terrified heart. It was still alive.
She lifted it higher so that she might inspect it, and the bird lay still as the dead on her palm, frozen in fright.
"So you frightened away my dinner!" a voice boomed over the water as a man strode into view. "Maybe I'll eat you instead." He laughed.
Melitta tucked the bird into her now-empty pouch, and planted her feet firmly. She was tired, she probably looked like she'd been sleeping in the woods, and she was hungrier than ever, but she'd be damned before she showed fear to a man who looked wilder than she. Why, his bramble-bush beard looked like it hadn't been trimmed in months, if at all, and his clothes had seen better days before he'd skinned them off what Melitta suspected was a bear. But he had a bow and a quiver full of arrows, not to mention the huge sword sheathed at his side.
"It wasn't me," she returned, tossing her head. "A falcon made the ducks take fright. He stole my dinner as much as he stole yours."
He scooped up a stone and advanced on her. "I saw you throwing rocks, girl. Do you know what I do to those who defy me? I crush them, like this." To Melitta's horrified fascination, he squeezed his fist and when he opened it, nothing but dust flew out.
Melitta gulped. She reached into her pouch, but found nothing except the bird and the piece of cheese. Clutching the cheese in her hand, she fought to keep her voice calm as she said, "Dust? That's nothing. Anyone can turn a stone to dust. I can make them weep." She clenched her fist and liquid dripped through her fingers to the ground.
This made the man hesitate. "You some kind of sorceress or something?"
"Yes, I am," Melitta said truthfully.
"How far can you and your magic throw a stone, then?" he challenged, seizing another rock which he skipped across the lake.
"Further than you," Melitta returned, uttering a silent prayer as she drew the bird from her pouch, hiding it as best she could from his watchful eyes as she launched it into the air. Either someone had heard her prayer or the bird had recovered, for once it was airborne, the bird kept flying, far away. "See?" she said triumphantly. "I can throw a stone so far it never comes down!" She pointed to where she could barely make out the bird as a speck in the sky.
"I don't see it." The man's voice was alarmingly close. Too close.
While Melitta had been distracted, watching the bird's flight, he'd crept up behind her. She reached for her dagger, but didn't have time to pull it out before something hard crashed into the back of her head and everything went dark.