Excerpt: Chapter 1 of Defenders of Holt
The Hunter
He could just see the white tail of the deer flashing between the trees ahead like a flag of surrender. With his extraordinarily long legs and oversized feet, the hunter was able to keep within a couple of yards of the fleeing animal. He had carefully removed his fur-lined, leather boots and wool socks when he had first spotted the buck—he ran better barefooted. The hunter maneuvered his prey through the woods by running to one side of the deer or the other, causing it to turn the opposite way. Just a little further and the deer would break through the trees to a large clearing. Orion, the hunter, knew he could catch it in the clearing.
The buck was a large one—at least 12 points on his antlers. Orion was exhilarated; a buck like this would provide several families with meat. Not that they especially needed the wild meat. The members of the small community Orion lived in were very good agriculturists and had plenty to eat: meat from goats, sheep and alpacas, fresh fruits and vegetables, and plenty of cereal grains grown in raised beds on the flood plain of the life-giving river. But Orion didn’t hunt because of a need for food; he hunted for the exercise, to insure the health and well being of the local deer herd, to save having to slaughter some of their domestic herds, and admittedly, for the fun of it. And catching prey this big was the most challenging and rewarding kind of fun.
The buck crashed through the brush at the edge of the woods and leaped out into the open meadow, its white flag of surrender held high. It normally would not have entered the open when being pursued, but it didn’t have a choice this time. Its pursuer had skillfully maneuvered it to this place, one that would prove to be its final destination.
Orion hurdled the low bushes at the edge of the woods, just a few steps behind the deer. When he was clear of the constraints of trees and underbrush, he stretched his legs to their full potential, the muscles rippling with the transfer of energy that propelled him forward. His steps landed on the balls of his feet, which were padded with a thick layer of tough skin. He couldn’t even feel the sharp twigs, rocks, and other objects that would have pierced the skin of most people’s feet.
Every stride brought Orion several inches closer to the buck, which was bounding over the short prairie grass of the meadow at just under 40 miles per hour. The buck was nearing the opposite side of the meadow. In just a few seconds, it would be back in the cover of the woods. Orion knew that he could not keep up this pace much longer and certainly not if the animal made it to the woods. He gathered his massive leg muscles and lunged into the air, landing prone onto the back of the buck in a primal move reminiscent of a mountain lion. He quickly grabbed for the animal’s antlers and pulled them hard to the right. The buck’s momentum was briefly averted, causing it to stumble and fall to its knees. In a lightning fast movement that suggested long practice and mastery, Orion pulled his large hunting knife from the belt around his waist and sliced the animal’s throat deeply. The buck slumped forward to the ground, its right eye staring up at Orion with a mixture of fear and resignation.
This was the part Orion didn’t like. He was keenly aware of the suffering of animals and could almost feel their pain. He tried to dispatch his victims quickly so that they didn’t suffer long, but a buck this large sometimes took a little longer to die. As he lost himself in the buck’s torment, he eased his hold on its antler. The buck must have sensed an opportunity at that moment because, in a last-ditch effort at life, it threw its head up and back, bringing the antlers around with a flurry of potentially deadly weapons. The flag of surrender had been a ruse; the buck had no intention of giving up his life, or even his freedom, so easily. One of the antler points made contact with Orion’s left bicep, cutting a three-inch gash before he was able to pull himself out of the way. He jumped free of the animal just as it rolled onto its left side, finally ceding its life to its adversary.
Orion was relieved that the buck’s suffering was over. He marveled at its tenacious fight for life, even when it was hopeless. He stood panting for a moment over the animal and thanked its spirit for the worthy competition and for the ultimate sacrifice of its life. He closed his eyes and paid homage in his mind to the animal’s strength, ability, and will to live.
It was only after he started to catch his breath that Orion noticed the gaping wound in his arm. The sleeve of his wool shirt was torn and dripping with blood. Orion carefully sheathed his knife and untied the colorfully woven sash around his waist with his right hand. He wound the sash around his arm rather tightly, being careful not to cut off the blood flow to his lower arm. He wasn’t worried about this injury. He knew Hyssop, his family’s long-time physician, would take care of it. Orion would go see Hyssop as soon as he returned to the village.
Normally, Orion would butcher his freshly killed prey immediately, placing the choicest cuts of meat in his empty canvas knapsack and wrapping the rest of the meat in the animal’s own skin and hanging it from a high branch of a tree until he could come back for it. Today however, he was aware of the blood loss from his wound and he decided it would be more prudent to leave the buck and send someone back for it so that he could tend to his arm right away. He could only hope that they could get back before the multitude of scavengers picked it apart. He was thankful that the buck had fallen several yards from the edge of the woods. Scavengers would be more cautious about coming into the open to retrieve the carcass, especially with the scent of human still in the air.
Orion began trotting back the way he had come, keeping his injured arm crooked at the elbow and close to his body. Even at a trot he moved fast, covering the expense of the meadow in just a couple of minutes. He made his way through the woods at a slightly slower pace, having to dodge trees and jump over undergrowth as he went. He knew exactly where he was going, both from a keen sense of direction and a deep familiarity with the area. He had no trouble locating his discarded boots and paused just long enough to slip his feet into them without bothering to put on his socks, before taking off again.
After several minutes, the woods started thinning out and eventually opened up into a large short-grass prairie. Ahead of him, to the north, he could see the short, rounded, grass-covered hills where his village was located. Even from two miles away, the reflection of the glass-fronted dwellings flashed brightly in the early spring sun. The sight always made Orion feel warm and welcome and happy to be coming home. To his left, Orion could see the long rectangular raised crop beds, walled with limestone rocks and sprouting the bright green shoots of winter wheat, rye, oats, quinoa, and barley, making a beautiful natural mosaic pattern on the flood plain next to the mighty river.
It took only twenty minutes for Orion to jog the five miles from the meadow where he left his kill. He wasn’t even breathing heavily from this pace; it was like walking to him. As he neared the outskirts of the village, he whistled a particular signal, one that his fellow hunters knew to mean that he required assistance. Two young men and a young woman, all built very tall and lanky like him and part of a group of people called the ‘Tall Ones’, came to meet him. Each was dressed in the alpaca wool pants and shirt, sheepskin vest, and fur-lined leather boots that Orion wore. Each had their long hair pulled back into a plait at the back of their necks like Orion, but unlike him, they wore sheepskin hats on their heads and fuzzy alpaca wool gloves on their hands. Early spring in this part of the country came in May and was still quite chilly. Wind chills could make the temperature feel like it was barely above freezing and if one was not running or doing some other robust physical activity, a hat and gloves were needed for comfort.
“Hey, ‘Rion, what’s up?” the shorter, dark-haired youth asked, as Orion joined the little group.
“I ran down a beautiful buck in the South Wood’s meadow a while ago, but it caught me in the arm with its antlers. I need someone to go get it for me while I take care of this.” Orion unwrapped the sash from his arm a little while he spoke, so they could get a glimpse of the wound.
“That looks pretty bad, do you need help getting to the physician?” the girl asked with concern and maybe a little bit of hope in her voice. She had long, lustrous, golden brown hair and piercing, dark brown eyes with which she was peering intently into Orion’s eyes.
“No Diana, thanks. It’s not really that bad. The physician will sew it up in no time. I’m more concerned with the scavengers getting my kill down in the meadow. Can you guys go get it?” Orion was wrapping his arm back up while he spoke, trying to hide the wound from the ever-probing eyes of Diana. He knew she liked him, maybe even loved him, but he wasn’t ready for a girlfriend yet. He was having too much fun hunting, fishing, and being on his own right now.
“Sure. Be happy to help you, buddy,” said the dark-haired youth. The taller, brown-haired youth was nodding in agreement. Diana was still looking intensely at Orion, trying to judge whether she should press further to help him to the physician or go with the others to bring back his buck.
“Thanks, Bowie, Finn.” Orion nodded in their direction. Then he turned to Diana who was still staring at him.
“Diana?” He nodded his gratitude at her, as well, hoping she’d take the hint.
“What physician are you going to?” she asked instead.
“We’ve always gone to Hyssop. He’s been good to my family,” answered Orion, trying hard to be patient and friendly.
“Doesn’t Hyssop have a daughter? Sage is her name, I think. She should be about our age, right?” Diana tried to act nonchalant but couldn’t help the tiny bit of suspicion and jealousy in her voice.
“Yeah, but she’s just a kid. I haven’t seen her in a couple of years. She’s probably about twelve or thirteen now,” Orion answered, trying to dismiss Diana’s worries by seeming indifferent.
It worked. She smiled at him and said, “Okay, ‘Rion. Be back soon.” At that the three raced off in the direction that Orion had just come from, each vying to take the lead from the others. Orion watched for a couple of minutes until he could just make out Diana edging out the other two. Orion shook his head with a slight smile on his face. She was a pain in the neck, but she sure was fast. Not fast enough to take him of course, but close.
Orion turned and began to make his way up the gently sloping hills toward the dwellings. Along his way, he stopped by a large, glass-covered hole in the ground where he could see his mother and father working side by side in their walipini, a kind of subterranean greenhouse, tending the bright green shoots of newly sprouted vegetable plants. The ground and air temperatures above were still far too cold for planting summer crops, but the plants were already thriving in the warmth of the solar-heated and thermal constant soil in the walipini. Although it was only 40 degrees outside, in the walipini it was a balmy 80 degrees. In baskets beside his parents were various cool-weather vegetables like potatoes, peas, and carrots, which his parents had already harvested.
Orion tapped on the glass and his parents smiled up at him and waved. They were so happy working together in their garden paradise, that Orion decided not to concern them with his injury until after he’d had it sewn up, though he was sure that his mother already had a “feeling” about it. He waved back at them and continued up the hill another hundred yards or so until he came to a large wall of glass windows set into the side of the low hill. The windows were artfully cut and arranged in beautifully arched panes framed by honey-colored wooden mullions. The effect was beautiful and stunning, a piece of finely-crafted artwork set amongst the beauty of nature.
Orion reached for a knob in the center glass panel, which was really a door, and entered his home. He was instantly warmed by the sunlight flowing through the windows and the huge adobe fireplace along the back wall of the large, comfortable room. He took off his knapsack and laid it on the highly polished hardwood floor near the carved wood-framed sofa with luxuriously upholstered cream-colored cushions, upon which lolled a gray, longhair cat. He patted the cat’s head, which gazed adoringly up at him, then untied his hunting knife and laid it on top of the knapsack. He knew his mother would complain about him leaving them in the great room, but he would take them to his room when he returned from the physician. His mother could never stay angry at him for long, especially since he had a good excuse to be in a hurry today.
He left the same way he had come in, and turned right to follow the hill until it turned into another. Then another and another, until he had lost count of how many hills and valleys he had jogged over and how many glass-fronted dwellings he had passed, each one with its own individual artistic design. About twenty minutes and close to six miles later, he came to a rather staid dwelling with several large, rectangular panes of glass divided into smaller squares. It was no less beautiful than his own dwelling, but much less artistic and obviously had been easier to construct. It was apparent the owner had more important matters to attend to than designing his dwelling.
Orion knocked on the glass door and entered upon hearing Hyssop’s gruff voice calling, “Come on in.”
“Hello, Hyssop. It’s been a long time. How’ve you been?” Orion asked the short, middle-aged man standing at the sink along the right side of the huge room washing a drinking glass. Hyssop was a physician, part of a group of people called, rather uncreatively, “Brains.” Like all other Brains, his head was slightly larger than people of other groups, not enough to look grotesque, but noticeable if one was looking for that sort of thing.
“Hello, Orion, it has been a long time, hasn’t it. I’ve been fine, just getting along as usual,” Hyssop said in a kindly, conversational manner. “What brings you here today?”
“I got injured while chasing down a rather large buck,” Orion answered while undoing the sash around his arm again. This time he took it completely off and the wound instantly began bleeding again.
“Ah, let me see that.” Hyssop led Orion to the sink where he examined the wound in the light streaming in from the front windows. The gash dripped blood into the sink while he probed at it with his fingers. “It looks like a clean cut; no severed blood vessels; limited muscle damage: a perfect case for Sage to take care of,” he declared proudly.
Orion’s eyebrows rose involuntarily. “Sage?” he asked doubtfully. “She’s kind of young for that isn’t she?”
Hyssop looked intently at Orion. With a twinkle in his eye, he said, “Not as young as you think, young man.”
Orion instantly felt bad for doubting the trusted physician. He knew Hyssop would never do anything that would put one of his patients in danger. But still, Sage was only barely more than a little girl, right? Orion searched his memory for the last time he had seen her. It must have been at least two years ago at one of the Old Rememberer’s gatherings. He hadn’t been to one since. Sage was about thirteen at the time, he thought. He had been fifteen, but had felt infinitely older than she at the time. Now the two years age difference didn’t seem that great anymore.
He was still pondering this when Hyssop called for his daughter and Sage emerged from one of the back rooms. She approached him with a smile, which widened into a grin when she noticed his jaw drop open. This was not the same little girl Orion had known a few years ago. This was a beautiful young woman with the power to turn Orion’s world upside down. If he could’ve moved, he might have turned and bolted out the door.
He could just see the white tail of the deer flashing between the trees ahead like a flag of surrender. With his extraordinarily long legs and oversized feet, the hunter was able to keep within a couple of yards of the fleeing animal. He had carefully removed his fur-lined, leather boots and wool socks when he had first spotted the buck—he ran better barefooted. The hunter maneuvered his prey through the woods by running to one side of the deer or the other, causing it to turn the opposite way. Just a little further and the deer would break through the trees to a large clearing. Orion, the hunter, knew he could catch it in the clearing.
The buck was a large one—at least 12 points on his antlers. Orion was exhilarated; a buck like this would provide several families with meat. Not that they especially needed the wild meat. The members of the small community Orion lived in were very good agriculturists and had plenty to eat: meat from goats, sheep and alpacas, fresh fruits and vegetables, and plenty of cereal grains grown in raised beds on the flood plain of the life-giving river. But Orion didn’t hunt because of a need for food; he hunted for the exercise, to insure the health and well being of the local deer herd, to save having to slaughter some of their domestic herds, and admittedly, for the fun of it. And catching prey this big was the most challenging and rewarding kind of fun.
The buck crashed through the brush at the edge of the woods and leaped out into the open meadow, its white flag of surrender held high. It normally would not have entered the open when being pursued, but it didn’t have a choice this time. Its pursuer had skillfully maneuvered it to this place, one that would prove to be its final destination.
Orion hurdled the low bushes at the edge of the woods, just a few steps behind the deer. When he was clear of the constraints of trees and underbrush, he stretched his legs to their full potential, the muscles rippling with the transfer of energy that propelled him forward. His steps landed on the balls of his feet, which were padded with a thick layer of tough skin. He couldn’t even feel the sharp twigs, rocks, and other objects that would have pierced the skin of most people’s feet.
Every stride brought Orion several inches closer to the buck, which was bounding over the short prairie grass of the meadow at just under 40 miles per hour. The buck was nearing the opposite side of the meadow. In just a few seconds, it would be back in the cover of the woods. Orion knew that he could not keep up this pace much longer and certainly not if the animal made it to the woods. He gathered his massive leg muscles and lunged into the air, landing prone onto the back of the buck in a primal move reminiscent of a mountain lion. He quickly grabbed for the animal’s antlers and pulled them hard to the right. The buck’s momentum was briefly averted, causing it to stumble and fall to its knees. In a lightning fast movement that suggested long practice and mastery, Orion pulled his large hunting knife from the belt around his waist and sliced the animal’s throat deeply. The buck slumped forward to the ground, its right eye staring up at Orion with a mixture of fear and resignation.
This was the part Orion didn’t like. He was keenly aware of the suffering of animals and could almost feel their pain. He tried to dispatch his victims quickly so that they didn’t suffer long, but a buck this large sometimes took a little longer to die. As he lost himself in the buck’s torment, he eased his hold on its antler. The buck must have sensed an opportunity at that moment because, in a last-ditch effort at life, it threw its head up and back, bringing the antlers around with a flurry of potentially deadly weapons. The flag of surrender had been a ruse; the buck had no intention of giving up his life, or even his freedom, so easily. One of the antler points made contact with Orion’s left bicep, cutting a three-inch gash before he was able to pull himself out of the way. He jumped free of the animal just as it rolled onto its left side, finally ceding its life to its adversary.
Orion was relieved that the buck’s suffering was over. He marveled at its tenacious fight for life, even when it was hopeless. He stood panting for a moment over the animal and thanked its spirit for the worthy competition and for the ultimate sacrifice of its life. He closed his eyes and paid homage in his mind to the animal’s strength, ability, and will to live.
It was only after he started to catch his breath that Orion noticed the gaping wound in his arm. The sleeve of his wool shirt was torn and dripping with blood. Orion carefully sheathed his knife and untied the colorfully woven sash around his waist with his right hand. He wound the sash around his arm rather tightly, being careful not to cut off the blood flow to his lower arm. He wasn’t worried about this injury. He knew Hyssop, his family’s long-time physician, would take care of it. Orion would go see Hyssop as soon as he returned to the village.
Normally, Orion would butcher his freshly killed prey immediately, placing the choicest cuts of meat in his empty canvas knapsack and wrapping the rest of the meat in the animal’s own skin and hanging it from a high branch of a tree until he could come back for it. Today however, he was aware of the blood loss from his wound and he decided it would be more prudent to leave the buck and send someone back for it so that he could tend to his arm right away. He could only hope that they could get back before the multitude of scavengers picked it apart. He was thankful that the buck had fallen several yards from the edge of the woods. Scavengers would be more cautious about coming into the open to retrieve the carcass, especially with the scent of human still in the air.
Orion began trotting back the way he had come, keeping his injured arm crooked at the elbow and close to his body. Even at a trot he moved fast, covering the expense of the meadow in just a couple of minutes. He made his way through the woods at a slightly slower pace, having to dodge trees and jump over undergrowth as he went. He knew exactly where he was going, both from a keen sense of direction and a deep familiarity with the area. He had no trouble locating his discarded boots and paused just long enough to slip his feet into them without bothering to put on his socks, before taking off again.
After several minutes, the woods started thinning out and eventually opened up into a large short-grass prairie. Ahead of him, to the north, he could see the short, rounded, grass-covered hills where his village was located. Even from two miles away, the reflection of the glass-fronted dwellings flashed brightly in the early spring sun. The sight always made Orion feel warm and welcome and happy to be coming home. To his left, Orion could see the long rectangular raised crop beds, walled with limestone rocks and sprouting the bright green shoots of winter wheat, rye, oats, quinoa, and barley, making a beautiful natural mosaic pattern on the flood plain next to the mighty river.
It took only twenty minutes for Orion to jog the five miles from the meadow where he left his kill. He wasn’t even breathing heavily from this pace; it was like walking to him. As he neared the outskirts of the village, he whistled a particular signal, one that his fellow hunters knew to mean that he required assistance. Two young men and a young woman, all built very tall and lanky like him and part of a group of people called the ‘Tall Ones’, came to meet him. Each was dressed in the alpaca wool pants and shirt, sheepskin vest, and fur-lined leather boots that Orion wore. Each had their long hair pulled back into a plait at the back of their necks like Orion, but unlike him, they wore sheepskin hats on their heads and fuzzy alpaca wool gloves on their hands. Early spring in this part of the country came in May and was still quite chilly. Wind chills could make the temperature feel like it was barely above freezing and if one was not running or doing some other robust physical activity, a hat and gloves were needed for comfort.
“Hey, ‘Rion, what’s up?” the shorter, dark-haired youth asked, as Orion joined the little group.
“I ran down a beautiful buck in the South Wood’s meadow a while ago, but it caught me in the arm with its antlers. I need someone to go get it for me while I take care of this.” Orion unwrapped the sash from his arm a little while he spoke, so they could get a glimpse of the wound.
“That looks pretty bad, do you need help getting to the physician?” the girl asked with concern and maybe a little bit of hope in her voice. She had long, lustrous, golden brown hair and piercing, dark brown eyes with which she was peering intently into Orion’s eyes.
“No Diana, thanks. It’s not really that bad. The physician will sew it up in no time. I’m more concerned with the scavengers getting my kill down in the meadow. Can you guys go get it?” Orion was wrapping his arm back up while he spoke, trying to hide the wound from the ever-probing eyes of Diana. He knew she liked him, maybe even loved him, but he wasn’t ready for a girlfriend yet. He was having too much fun hunting, fishing, and being on his own right now.
“Sure. Be happy to help you, buddy,” said the dark-haired youth. The taller, brown-haired youth was nodding in agreement. Diana was still looking intensely at Orion, trying to judge whether she should press further to help him to the physician or go with the others to bring back his buck.
“Thanks, Bowie, Finn.” Orion nodded in their direction. Then he turned to Diana who was still staring at him.
“Diana?” He nodded his gratitude at her, as well, hoping she’d take the hint.
“What physician are you going to?” she asked instead.
“We’ve always gone to Hyssop. He’s been good to my family,” answered Orion, trying hard to be patient and friendly.
“Doesn’t Hyssop have a daughter? Sage is her name, I think. She should be about our age, right?” Diana tried to act nonchalant but couldn’t help the tiny bit of suspicion and jealousy in her voice.
“Yeah, but she’s just a kid. I haven’t seen her in a couple of years. She’s probably about twelve or thirteen now,” Orion answered, trying to dismiss Diana’s worries by seeming indifferent.
It worked. She smiled at him and said, “Okay, ‘Rion. Be back soon.” At that the three raced off in the direction that Orion had just come from, each vying to take the lead from the others. Orion watched for a couple of minutes until he could just make out Diana edging out the other two. Orion shook his head with a slight smile on his face. She was a pain in the neck, but she sure was fast. Not fast enough to take him of course, but close.
Orion turned and began to make his way up the gently sloping hills toward the dwellings. Along his way, he stopped by a large, glass-covered hole in the ground where he could see his mother and father working side by side in their walipini, a kind of subterranean greenhouse, tending the bright green shoots of newly sprouted vegetable plants. The ground and air temperatures above were still far too cold for planting summer crops, but the plants were already thriving in the warmth of the solar-heated and thermal constant soil in the walipini. Although it was only 40 degrees outside, in the walipini it was a balmy 80 degrees. In baskets beside his parents were various cool-weather vegetables like potatoes, peas, and carrots, which his parents had already harvested.
Orion tapped on the glass and his parents smiled up at him and waved. They were so happy working together in their garden paradise, that Orion decided not to concern them with his injury until after he’d had it sewn up, though he was sure that his mother already had a “feeling” about it. He waved back at them and continued up the hill another hundred yards or so until he came to a large wall of glass windows set into the side of the low hill. The windows were artfully cut and arranged in beautifully arched panes framed by honey-colored wooden mullions. The effect was beautiful and stunning, a piece of finely-crafted artwork set amongst the beauty of nature.
Orion reached for a knob in the center glass panel, which was really a door, and entered his home. He was instantly warmed by the sunlight flowing through the windows and the huge adobe fireplace along the back wall of the large, comfortable room. He took off his knapsack and laid it on the highly polished hardwood floor near the carved wood-framed sofa with luxuriously upholstered cream-colored cushions, upon which lolled a gray, longhair cat. He patted the cat’s head, which gazed adoringly up at him, then untied his hunting knife and laid it on top of the knapsack. He knew his mother would complain about him leaving them in the great room, but he would take them to his room when he returned from the physician. His mother could never stay angry at him for long, especially since he had a good excuse to be in a hurry today.
He left the same way he had come in, and turned right to follow the hill until it turned into another. Then another and another, until he had lost count of how many hills and valleys he had jogged over and how many glass-fronted dwellings he had passed, each one with its own individual artistic design. About twenty minutes and close to six miles later, he came to a rather staid dwelling with several large, rectangular panes of glass divided into smaller squares. It was no less beautiful than his own dwelling, but much less artistic and obviously had been easier to construct. It was apparent the owner had more important matters to attend to than designing his dwelling.
Orion knocked on the glass door and entered upon hearing Hyssop’s gruff voice calling, “Come on in.”
“Hello, Hyssop. It’s been a long time. How’ve you been?” Orion asked the short, middle-aged man standing at the sink along the right side of the huge room washing a drinking glass. Hyssop was a physician, part of a group of people called, rather uncreatively, “Brains.” Like all other Brains, his head was slightly larger than people of other groups, not enough to look grotesque, but noticeable if one was looking for that sort of thing.
“Hello, Orion, it has been a long time, hasn’t it. I’ve been fine, just getting along as usual,” Hyssop said in a kindly, conversational manner. “What brings you here today?”
“I got injured while chasing down a rather large buck,” Orion answered while undoing the sash around his arm again. This time he took it completely off and the wound instantly began bleeding again.
“Ah, let me see that.” Hyssop led Orion to the sink where he examined the wound in the light streaming in from the front windows. The gash dripped blood into the sink while he probed at it with his fingers. “It looks like a clean cut; no severed blood vessels; limited muscle damage: a perfect case for Sage to take care of,” he declared proudly.
Orion’s eyebrows rose involuntarily. “Sage?” he asked doubtfully. “She’s kind of young for that isn’t she?”
Hyssop looked intently at Orion. With a twinkle in his eye, he said, “Not as young as you think, young man.”
Orion instantly felt bad for doubting the trusted physician. He knew Hyssop would never do anything that would put one of his patients in danger. But still, Sage was only barely more than a little girl, right? Orion searched his memory for the last time he had seen her. It must have been at least two years ago at one of the Old Rememberer’s gatherings. He hadn’t been to one since. Sage was about thirteen at the time, he thought. He had been fifteen, but had felt infinitely older than she at the time. Now the two years age difference didn’t seem that great anymore.
He was still pondering this when Hyssop called for his daughter and Sage emerged from one of the back rooms. She approached him with a smile, which widened into a grin when she noticed his jaw drop open. This was not the same little girl Orion had known a few years ago. This was a beautiful young woman with the power to turn Orion’s world upside down. If he could’ve moved, he might have turned and bolted out the door.