Sixteen

 

As Chase headed steadily uphill, the trees thinned, until he came upon another clearing – but this one was covered in snow. Well, mostly snow. In the middle of it was the remains of what looked like a recent kill, ringed round with feathers and bloody wolf prints.

He surveyed the trees around the edge of the clearing and nodded in satisfaction. This was the place to set up his trap. All he needed was bait.

Movement at the top of the slope caught his eye – a rabbit, tugging at a scrap of grass that grew sideways out of the vertical cliff face. Chase strung his bow, then fitted an arrow to the bowstring. Without his golden armour, he wouldn't miss this time.

He exhaled, then released, knowing the arrow would hit its mark.

The rabbit didn't make a sound as it toppled over, dead.

Chase tied his mare to a trunk just inside the treeline, before scrambling up the slope to collect his kill. The best place to set the trap was...right here, he decided, pulling out a knife. He gutted the dead rabbit, flinging its entrails across the snow, before dropping the carcass among the mess. If that didn't attract the wolf, he didn't know what would.

Now all he had to do was climb a tree, and wait for the wolf to show up.

He'd shoot it, bring it back to the witch, then drag the carcass into town to collect his reward. Easy.

Chase settled into a suitable perch, wrapped his cloak around him, set his bow across his lap in readiness, and waited.