Duncan streaked through the underbrush. Bare feet padded nearly silently as he weaved through the forest. Heavy footfalls and labored breathing weren’t far behind. The ground dropped away and Duncan threw himself across the gully, landing hard on the far bank before scrambling up, using the roots poking from the muddy ground for better grips. At the top of the incline, he passed the tree which had fallen over, leaving its roots splayed in the air. Just a little further and he’d be back to the walls. Rounding the divot left in the ground by the uprooted tree, he hit upon a game trail leading out of the trees.
The boy redoubled his efforts as he heard his pursuers hit the near bank of the gully and start scrabbling, sending rocks bouncing into the tiny stream. He burst into the clearing. A few stubborn stumps lined the clearing but other than that, it was open ground right up to the postern gate. Duncan leaned forward and dug his toes into the grass but it was no good. One of the dogs nipped at his heel, throwing his stride off and the next one tackled him into the knee-high grasses. The barking grew more excited as they closed in and licked Duncan’s face before bounding off. Duncan growled and jumped to his feet before chasing them around the wall and in through the main gate, startling a few villagers just arriving for their duty.
“You blasted mutts!” Harry cried out as the dogs jostled him, making him drop one end of a large timber into the muddy lane. Duncan gave him plenty of room as he chased the dogs back to their kennel. They swirled around a few times in the courtyard, as playful as always, before Duncan half herded and half wrestled them into their dedicated out-building. With their morning business out of the way, Duncan could finally get some breakfast. Energized from the running, he jogged over to the kitchens and pulled on the rope by the door. A little bell jingled on the other side.
Duncan waited, watching the workmen bringing in more supplies. The lord was adding a fourth floor to his tower. It was already impressive. Three stories and made entirely from stone. It was taller than all the trees in the forest. He’d been up there once. The whole valley looked like a soft bed of moss when you were up that high, except where the pastures were, those looked like moldy bread, except the spots moved. He felt like he could nearly touch the clouds on the day Laurel brought him there but the Lord wanted it to be even taller, and he always got what he wanted. Duncan wondered if he would be able to reach the clouds when they were done. He was imagining that they must taste like cream or maybe cheese when the kitchen door swung open.
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A well used but clean apron stepped out to greet him. Duncan craned his neck back to take in the rest of Matron Analise. Her dark hair was pulled up and back, hidden under a wimple. Duncan never understood why old people went about with their hair tied so tightly. You couldn’t smile with your face already pulled so tight. That’s what Laurel told him anyway. Matron Analise pursed her lips before reaching to the side of the door and handing over a bucket filled with scraps and leavings before slamming the door on him. Yup, her hair was definitely too tight today.
On the way back to the kennel, Duncan fished a mostly intact heel of stale bread out of the bucket. It had soaked up some kind of gravy and was delicious. It took a few seconds of hard eyes to get the excited dogs to back away from the door and sit patiently. As soon as he sloshed the bucket’s contents into the feeding trough the dogs pounced, crowding around the feast and gorging themselves. The trough was licked clean in under a minute and Duncan began inspecting the dogs for injuries or anything that felt off. His job was to take care of them. It was something he’d do anyway but nobody asked him. The way he looked at it, he had a better job than the shepherds. Sheep were boring. They never wanted to play, or do anything besides eat grass. Duncan didn’t get the appeal. He’d tried grass a few times when the bucket was low but no matter how much he ate, he never got full. Sheep were just stupid. When they weren’t eating grass, they were wandering off and getting lost. Where’s the fun in that?
Skip must have run through some briars. She had a bloody scrape on her hind leg. Duncan rubbed spit and dirt on it. What would the dogs do without him? No doubt they’d all be lame and blind within the week if he wasn’t watching them. It felt good to be so useful, and the dogs appreciated him too. They liked that he brought them food, of course, but he also gave the best scratches. It helped that he wasn’t as slow as all the other people. He was more fun to chase because of that. The dogs were nice and simple and fun, unlike the people with all their confusing rules and tight hair. Well, there was one person who was even better than the dogs. Laurel never wore her hair too tight if she could help it. That meant she could smile all the time. She had the best smile too. Wide and inviting and never mean, it looked like the sun coming out from behind clouds. She was special, not just another girl like all the ones in the village, but a little lady. That’s what everyone else calls her anyways.
The smell of bottled flowers tickled his nose and Duncan spun around. Laurel was standing by the door, watching him tend to the hounds with that blinding smile of hers.
