“Aye. Exactly so,” The man laughed. “And a fat sack o’ gold that hide will bring us if we can skin her without a tear.”
Mikahl started to his feet, but a spinning sensation stopped him. He wasn’t sure what the man had meant, but he didn’t voice his ignorance. The man offered a hand to Mikahl. He took it and was pulled to his feet with a heave. Mikahl couldn’t help but notice that the man was incredibly strong.
“They call me Loudin.”
“Call me Mik,” Mikahl lied. “It’s short for Mikken.”
“Well met Mikken.” Loudin put one hand on Mikahl’s shoulder and extended the other out towards the dead bark skinned lizard.
“Yer due a share of the take from the skin, lad, but you have to help me skin’r and sell’r. We’ll need yer good horse to help tote it as well.”
Mikahl laughed. He just now caught the unintentional joke he had made when he told the man that he’d saved his hide.
“My horse appears to be lame sir…uh…Loudin. And as much as I thank you for the offer, I must continue north into the mountains. My business there is urgent.”
“Well, firstly, my friend, yer horse is limping. But its leg ain’t broke. It just lost a shoe. Probably a bit of nail left in the hoof gathering mud and grass as he limps around. Secondly, if yer going into the mountains, even this time of the year, you’ll freeze your castle raised giblets off at night dressed in those cloths. Thirdly, Summer’s Day is at the foot of the mountains, and that’s where we will most likely have to sell our prize. That’s only if we can get the big bastard skinned, and get it there before the festival is over, and all the traders go home.”
The wave of relief that washed over Mikahl when he heard that Windfoot was alright, was so overpowering that he didn’t even wince at Loudin’s jab. Mikahl had been having a futilely hard time trying to hide. He wasn’t sure what he had said that had given him away, but the big trapper had apparently seen right through him. “Castle raised,” he had said. Was Mikahl that transparent? He was starting to feel like he was swimming in water that was full of venomous serpents, and far too deep to stand in. He wasn’t even sure he could find his way out of these woods. He’d never thought that he might need warmer clothes. He wasn’t sure he could trust this man. His accent was like those of the sailors from the Kingdom of Seaward that often docked in Portsmouth. They were notoriously questionable folk who tended to spend a lot of time whoring and gambling. Not as bad as the Dakaneese Pirates, but bad enough. A long look at the dead barkskin lizard helped make his mind up. There was no telling what other sort of dangerous creatures roamed this forest. Besides, if he got to the Summer’s Day Festival, he wouldn’t be lost anymore. From the great, black spire, he could go due north and within a day or two he’d be in the Giant Mountains.
“Will my share be enough to outfit me for the mountains?” He asked the trapper.
“Aye! Twice as much, and then some, lad,” Loudin answered.
It was true. The skin of this huge lizard would bring in a small fortune. Loudin was a fairly honest man, and though he had cheated many a fool at dice, and the fortune wheel, and at the card table too, he saw no need to try to cheat this fool boy. The boy’s ignorance would allow Loudin to keep nearly all of the gold. He could outfit the boy well, and fill his pouch full of silver coins, then send him off to get eaten, or to freeze to death in the mountains. The bulk of the profit he would keep for himself. They had to hurry though, or the traders would be gone. He wasn’t sure, because he had lost count of the days while tracking the great lizard through the forest, but he felt certain that Summer’s Day was upon them. Tomorrow, or the next day, might be the first day of summer. He thought about asking the boy what day it was, but didn’t want the lad thinking he was daft. It didn’t matter. He was sure that if they got to work quickly they could get the lizard skinned, and get the hide to the festival, before all the traders were gone.
Loudin was right about Windfoot’s hoof. Mikahl couldn’t figure how the old hunter had known it, but he had. It only took Mikahl a few moments to clean way the clod that was caked to the nail and work the nail itself free. Windfoot would have to do without the fourth shoe. Out there in the forest, where the ground was relatively soft and free of sharp rocks, the well trained horse could manage. Mikahl would have him re-shod when they got to the festival.