Egon was welcomed enthusiastically into the group. Nobody remarked on the fact that he was soaked to the skin, but Berrigan and Leander quietly found a spare shirt and trousers for him, and helped him set his wet clothes to dry by the fire, on a rack hastily constructed from thin branches. Halt had shot a small deer during the day, as they traveled to Seacliff. He set a haunch on a spit over the fire, turning it from time to time and letting the juices and fat dribble onto the fire, sending flames flaring as they hit the red-hot coals. The smell of grilling meat was heavenly to the hungry men. Egon, however, eyed the roasting joint with a raised eyebrow. “I thought only the King could take deer in the forest?” he said mildly. Halt eyed him, straight-faced, as he turned the joint a quarter turn, setting more of the juices dripping into the fire and releasing more of the succulent-smelling smoke. “He wanted us to have it,”
What do You think about The Tournament At Gorlan (2015)?
