The moment he glimpsed the mountain goat through the snow, smells of crackling meat roasting upon fire were conjured unbidden to Herrig’s mind. He imagined the taste of flesh that he’d almost forgotten; succulent juices trickling through his beard, warmth in his stomach. His thought drifted back to Yule feasts in the long-hall amid the company and the laughter of his kin. It all seemed so very far away.
Through cold and the fog of weariness the woodman’s limbs moved in set motions. It was as though someone else were reaching for his bow, another’s will that plucked the string and knocked his arrow. The yew creaked as it was pulled back; the feather brushed against his cheek. Breath misted in the mountain air.
Herrig with clear shot stood still as stone, holding tight the bow that strained eagerly for release. Something inside him stirred against the haze of hunger though, a dim light of memory like a break of sun through cloud and it held on desperately to the bow-string.
Herrig had left that life behind. The long hall, the feasts, his family. The taste of meat. He had sworn he would change after what had happened. Sworn only to himself perhaps, or perhaps not. But weren’t those just the words of a fool? Swayed by queer notions and old song? It wasn’t too late to turn back, he would be welcomed and would laugh about all of this in days to come. It could be as it was. The woodman sighed, he lowered his bow.
“Shoo!” Herrig called out, his voice felt strange and small amidst the Misty Mountains. The goat looked up sharply and Herrig watched as dinner of tender loin and smoked ribs sprang away. His stomach growled at him in angry protest.
It would be easier when he’d crossed the mountains Herrig told himself trudging on. They could be the wall between him and the past...And who knew what lay beyond them. Herrig held up his hand against the rays of the setting sun as he finally crested the ridge, looking out with wonder on a whole other world.
Herrig’s fathers had never crossed these mountains, choosing since the elder days to stay beneath the eaves of the forest even as others had passed over to the West. Maybe here he would find some of those old songs to be true? Herrig pulled out a carrot, grimaced a little at the taste and set off.
