15 Woodland CampAs dusk fell across the oak forest, they came to a broad clearing where the coarse grass was trodden flat and the damp ground scarred by the hoof-marks of many horses.
Eithne was riding the pack-horse, silent and grim-faced, as though the day’s events had not pleased her, or as though her brother, who led the horse, had spoken sternly to her.
But when she saw the hoof-marks, she held up her hand to halt the walking-party. Her brother, Bran, immediately knelt to examine the trail, like a questing animal on the scent of his prey; or a half-frightened animal startled by the spoor of his enemy.
He rose and said in a whisper, ‘This troop of horse passed less than an hour ago. If we go on, we shall run into them wherever they have stopped to eat.’
He had hardly spoken when th
