Destiny's Path by Frewin Jones Page B

moment Fain’s curved beak would be pecking and ripping at warm flesh—she had no problem with that. That was nature. But Blodwedd? There was something demonic about her. She was not to blame, however—neither for Branwen’s problems nor for what Govannon of the Wood had done to her. She was as much a cat’s-paw as Branwen was herself. But all the same…
    Branwen picked up the jug that had held themilk—it was now half full of fresh, cool river water. She walked back to where Blodwedd sat huddled in Rhodri’s arms.
    â€œHere,” she said. “Water. It will soothe your throat.”
    Blodwedd took the jug from her. She drank in an odd, jerky way, filling her mouth then throwing her head back to swallow.
    â€œIs that better?” Branwen asked.
    Blodwedd nodded, water trickling down her chin.
    â€œAnd now come back to the fire,” Rhodri said to her. “There’s a little bread and cheese left.” He looked up briefly at Branwen, before turning back to the owl-girl. “I will teach you how to chew food and swallow it without choking. And I’ll check your wound. And while I am doing that, Branwen will go and hunt for our supper.”
    Branwen slipped her slingshot from her belt and headed into the woods, turning over this new development in her mind. Whatever happened to them on their journey, Blodwedd’s presence would surely have a profound effect—but whether it would be for good or for bad, she was not yet sure.
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    Branwen could not help feeling a little pleased with herself as she threw the small wild pig down by the fireside. She had come stealthily upon it in the forest as it rooted under an oak tree, quite oblivious to herpresence as she crept close enough to use her slingshot. She had stunned it with a single deadly accurate blow to the side of the head and then quickly finished it off with a neat cut of Geraint’s knife across its throat.
    Blodwedd was huddled by the fire. She seemed to have fully recovered now, and Branwen noticed that all the bread and cheese was gone.
    â€œGet some sticks for a roasting frame,” she told Rhodri. “I’ll prepare the meat for the spit.” She crouched down, taking the pig by a hind leg and turning it over to begin dressing it. She was aware of Blodwedd’s eyes on her as she worked.
    â€œDo you want your meat raw or cooked?” she asked without looking at her.
    â€œI do not know,” Blodwedd said quietly.
    Branwen grimaced. “I ate raw meat once, when I was a child,” she said, still concentrating on her delicate knife work. “Afterward, I was very sick. I think human stomachs cannot cope with raw meat.” She glanced at last at Blodwedd. “Try it roasted,” she said. “I think you’ll like it better that way.”
    Blodwedd nodded. “I shall try,” she said.
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    Branwen looked across the flames at Rhodri. Blodwedd was still at his side, sitting up awkwardly on her thin haunches, holding a bone in both hands and snapping at it with her teeth. Watching her eat was not pleasant—she chewed like a dog, loudly andopenly, with her lips drawn back and the juices dripping down her chin and onto her dress. The intent look of pleasure on her face showed she was clearly relishing the taste of roasted pig, so at least Branwen wouldn’t have to suffer the sight of her trying to swallow live rodents whole again.
    â€œI’ve been thinking about the idea of wearing disguises,” Branwen said, averting her eyes from the slavering owl-girl. “I think I know how it can be done.” She threw a gnawed bone into the fire. “At first light we can hunt for another of these pigs, or for a deer or something similar. Then we will take it to the nearest village or farmstead and barter the fresh meat for clothing.”
    â€œAnd if we are recognized?”
    â€œI do not think we will be,” Branwen replied. “The