Wilterland was a drier land than Helberion. Most of the rain crossing the continent in this direction was diverted by the mountains, and the land they entered as they descended the southern slopes of the Grantens was almost desert. Yellow grass covered the ground, interrupted by the occasional stunted tree and large boulder. A cold wind blew across it and the men pulled their tunics close around their necks for warmth. They had long since used up the last of the trail rations they'd brought from Alby, the last town they'd passed through, and had finished off the last of the goat meat at last night's supper. There was nothing larger than a small village on the path they would be taking through Wilterland. Nowhere they'd be able to buy food for a long expedition overland, so the first thing they did was to divide up into a number of hunting parties, leaving Quill and Malone to guard their camp.

"You know, the city of Balmiss is just fifty miles or so to the west of here," said Crane as he knelt to examine some rabbit droppings. "Beef. Pork. Mutton. As much as we want. We could eat like kings all the way to Mekrol."

"The Brigadier doesn't want to attract attention," replied Tallion. "Besides, it's too far out of our way. What's your name again?"

"Crane," replied Crane. "You know? The tracker?"

"I didn't know we had a tracker. How long have you been with us, then?"

"This is my first mission with you. Your last tracker died, remember?"

"No. Who was he, then?"

"I thought you were one of the old timers. Been with the Brigadier for years."

"Yeah. We go back a long way, me and the Brigadier. Real chums, we are. Close as brothers."

"But you don't remember the name of your last tracker?"

"Didn't know we had a tracker. So are you any good?"

"Well, I can tell that the rabbits here aren't worth catching. Thin and scrawny. Not much more than a mouthful in each one."

Tallion gave a snort of disdain. "Hell, even I can tell that, just from the state of those droppings. If you were a decent tracker you'd be able to lead us to the fat, juicy rabbits."

"There aren't any fat, juicy rabbits around here. Just look at what they've got to eat. I'm surprised there're any rabbits here at all."

"There're supposed to be pheasants in land like this." Tallion looked around the desolate landscape, the wind blowing his straggly black hair like the pennants flying from the walls of a castle, as if his large, muscular body was a fortress that could resist the might of an invading army for weeks. He lifted a hairy, thick veined hand to shade his eyes from the brightness of the sky as he scanned the horizon.

"Not as good as turkey," he continued, "but better than scrawny rabbit. Partridge. Grouse. All good and tasty. Forget the rabbits, go find us some grouse."

Crane stood, arching his back to ease the cramp. "Their burrows will be that way, where the soil's deeper," he said. "I'll put a few snares out, then we'll go take a look over that hill." He reached into a pouch and took out a coil of thin wire, some of it bent and twisted from having been used before.

"Will there be partridges over there?"

"No, but there might be some wild goat."

"I'm fed up with goat. I want some partridge. A nice bit of white meat. My father knew some good recipes for partridge. 'Course, you've got to hang it for a few days to get the best from it, and you need some seasoning. Pepper and garlic's best, but I could do a very nice stew with a bit of nutmeg, or even parsley and ground saffron if we had any."

"Well, you'll just have to use one of your dad's recipes on rabbit, that's all. I'm sure the Brigadier will appreciate a bit of your herbs and seasoning, though."

"I haven't got any herbs and seasoning."

Crane looked up at him. "You just gave a long list of all the stuff you'd like to flavour the partridge with."

"Yeah, if I had any, I said."

"If you had any saffron, you said. You implied you had all the other stuff."

"No I didn't. Got a bit of pepper, that's all. Always carry a bit of pepper around, just in case. My dad always said to carry a bit of pepper around, just in case someone tries to serve you something rotten. The pepper takes the worst of the rancid taste out of it."

"I'll take your word for it." He set off to where a small clump of tall weeds was growing and looked for a good place to set the snare. "If you really don't like rabbit, I might be able to rustle up a couple of hedgehogs. There's good eating on them. Pity the soil's not deep enough for moles. I used to like a good mole, back home. Takes two or three to make a good meal, but they're worth the effort."

"I'd still rather have partridge. What was your name again?"

☆☆☆

Harper and Spencer looked at each other. "Are you sure this is the right way? asked Harper.

"I'm pretty sure this is the way we came," replied Spencer, slinging the brace of rabbits over his shoulder. "We came past that group of rocks, right?"

"I thought we did, but that should have taken us back to the camp. You should have kept a better eye on where we were going."

"Why didn't you keep an eye on where we were going?" He sighed and looked around, at the featureless grassland that surrounded them. "Okay, let's go to the top of that hill. We'll be able to see everything for miles around. We haven't come that far. We'll be able go see the camp from up there."

The two men trudged off up the slope, bows slung across shoulders, swords bouncing at their hips. Movement at the edge of his vision caught his eye and Harper looked over to see a jaycat looking at them, it's yellow eyes fixed on the rabbits carried by Spencer. It trotted forward a few paces, eyeing them warily, and Harper turned to face it. "Shoo!" he shouted. "Get away from here!" The dog sized creature skittered away a few paces, then turned back to face them again.

"Bloody thing'll probably follow us all the way back to camp," he said. "Hoping for scraps."

"Wonder if you can eat them," mused Spencer thoughtfully.

"Eat cat?" said Harper, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

"Why not? They eat cat in loads of places. The Callowmen eat cat all the time. Dog too."

"Well then."

"What does that mean, well then? Just because they're despicable, treacherous globs doesn't mean we can't eat what they eat. Cat meat is supposed to be really tasty. Like beef, if you prepare it right. Maybe we can lure our friend into coming in close..." He reached for an arrow from the quiver strapped across his back. Something in his movements spooked the creature though, and it turned and disappeared from sight. Spencer swore and let the arrow drop back into the quiver.

"Wonder if the others have had more luck," said Harper dreamily. "Would be nice to get back and find them roasting a haunch of venison over a spit."

"Dream on. The nearest deer are in Plydale Forest, unless there's yellowface deer. They live in grassland. They're supposed to be really rare, though."

"There could be a forest somewhere nearby. One of the others might have found a patch of woodland, hidden from sight behind a hill. Trees don't have to be that high to have deer in them."

"Might as well wish for a cattle ranch, handing out free samples to passers by. Or a meat stall doing business for all the travellers crossing the mountains."

Harper gave him a sour look. "It's easy to mock," he said.

"It's fun too."

They reached the top of the hill and looked around. "There!" cried Harper, pointing off to the east. "We were going almost exactly in the wrong direction."

Spencer followed his pointing finger with his eyes. "I don't see anything."

"There, look! Just to the right of that dead tree."

"There wasn't a dead tree beside our camp."

Harper furrowed his brow as he thought. "There must have been," he said. "There's nothing else out there."

"There's Smithie and Dacson," said Spencer, pointing in another direction. "They'll know the way back to the camp."

"We can see the camp!" insisted Harper. "By the dead tree!"

"Come on," said Spencer, and he ran down the slope of the hill towards the other two men. Harper cursed under his breath and followed him.

☆☆☆

"Company!" warned Smith, pointing towards the hill. "Oh, It's okay, It's just Harp and Spence."

"Is someone chasing them?" asked Dacson. His hand went to the pistol at his belt.

Smith watched the hill behind their sprinting comrades, but nothing revealed itself. "I think they've just got too much energy," he said. "Or Spence does, anyway. Harp's just trying to keep up with him."

The two men strolled over to meet them half way. "Any luck?" asked Spencer as he skidded to a stop beside them. "Got two rabbits." He held them up for their inspection. "You have any luck?"

"Found a river back there. Caught some fish." He held up a canvas bag and held it open to show them the five carp it contained. One was a giant, nearly two feet long. The others just five or six inches. "I caught the big one," he said proudly.

"It's sick," pointed out Dacson. "Look at the scales. It was just lying there, on its side. I wouldn't eat it if I were starving. Mine are good and healthy, though. Look at them. They'll cook up beautiful tonight."

Harper arrived, puffing heavily. "Bit out of breath, Harp?" laughed Smith. "Shame when the years start catching up with you."

"Maybe a nice fish supper will sort him out," suggested Dacson. "Why not offer him your fish, Smithy? I doubt anyone else will want it."

"Can't eat fish," said Harper. "They bring me out in spots." He looked up at the sun, now low on the horizon. "Maybe we should be getting back to camp."

"Yeah. Hey, you brought a friend, Harp."

Harper looked back to see the jaycat fifty yards away, watching them warily. "Bloody thing followed us," he said, reaching for his pistol. As he aimed, though, a second cat came trotting up to join the first, followed by a third. "He brought his family. Let's invite them to dinner." He fired a shot at the first, the bullet striking a rock and sending all three of the creatures running for cover.

"Tires out easily and a bad shot," said Smith, shaking his head sadly. "What has the army come to?"

"I'd like to see you hitting something at that distance." Harper scowled as he holstered the gun. "I don't remember you hitting anything back in Scowly."

"I hit plenty. You just didn't see."

"We should get going," said Dacson, setting off to the south. "Camp's nearly a mile away. We need to get there while it's still light enough to see landmarks."

The four men set off across the dusty grassland. Dacson in the lead, the others in single file behind him.

"I suppose, if things got desperate, we could always eat one of the horses," said Spencer. "One horse would keep us going for weeks."

"And which one of us would walk the rest of the way to Mekrol?" replied Harper.

"Quill and Malone are small, they could share a horse."

"No ranger worth his salt eats his own horse," said Smith. "Some parts of the world, not having a horse is a death sentence, and we'll probably be passing through places like that before we get where we're going. We don't eat a horse unless the alternative is starvation."

"Yes, I know. Bloody hell, it was just a joke."

"Some things you don't joke about. Not when you're a ranger. Not when you're one of the Brigadier's own men. He only chooses the best. How you got in is a mystery to me, Spence."

"He values my sense of humour. Keeps morale up when we're in a tight spot. Good morale is worth more than another three men."

"If we could trade you in for another three men..." Spencer gave him a hurt look, and Smith didn't complete the thought.

Harper decided to change the subject. "There's always globs," he said. "There're globs all over the world..."

"I'm not eating any more globs," said Smith, a warning gleam in his eye. "If Malone tries to feed me any more globs he'll be the next thing on the menu. I think he is a glob that went straight to human in one step. His parents got a little too attached to one of the slimy things." The others chuckled at the suggestion.

"I doubt there're any globs around here," said Dacson, looking around the arid landscape. "They like damp places."

"There're globs everywhere," replied Harper. "You might have to dig down a couple of feet..."

"This soil is like three inches deep, if that."

"Stop going on about bloody globs!" said Spencer. "The others'll have had more luck finding game, I'm sure..."