By his ears. Lifting his head up, Finn listened to the faraway bugling of a bull elk, signaling to its harem. At least I think it’s an elk. But it might be Mac Roth snoring. Yawning, he looked around the tent in the predawn light. Lochlan’s bag, with Lochlan inside of it, formed a lumpy mound in the center of the other cot. Remembering his promise to the Knights, he crawled out, hissing softly between his teeth from the cold. With his breath ghosting around him, he scrambled to dress, pulling on a thick, hand-knitted sweater. He recalled Gideon handing it to him while they were packing. Although clean, its creamy color was dulled with age, the cuffs and neck frayed. “Here,” his master had said, placing the folded garment on his bed while Finn was wadding up clothes and stuffing them in his duffle bag. “The weather is unpredictable in the mountains during autumn, so take this for extra warmth.” Something in the way Gideon’s fingers had lingered on the garment made Finn bite back the joke about hand-me-down clothes.
What do You think about The Hound At The Gate (2015)?
