Walker’s boots crunched through layers of snow. Cold bit his nose and the few inches of his face not protected by his beard. Meat that had been a rabbit hung from one hand, cleaned and ready. Out of habit, his unhurried tread took him from cover to cover—behind a boulder, a stand of small pines, a ridge of earth. His latest camp appeared, a simple shelter of heaped snow. A circle of blackened earth showed where he’d banked the coals of yesterday’s fire. The dry wood to start it again lay hidden under a camouflaged roof between two scrub oak trees. He scanned the camp twice until he was certain that no one else had been here, and then eased into the open. A rooster emerged from the dark entrance of the snow cave. His feathers bounced comically as he ran. Walker couldn’t suppress a smile. Robbie probably only cared about the handful of grain in Walker’s pocket, but the attention was still flattering. The old scars that marked him as a fighting bird, before Walker had rescued him, were now covered by thick golden feathers, and his beady eyes were bright. Keep reading the rest of the first chapter here. |
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