No animals came on the first day.
After dawn, Adrian went to inspect the trap.
The turf remained exactly where he had placed it, and there were no footprints among the dead leaves.
The gray salt had absorbed the night’s dew and mixed with the mud, making the ground darker than it had been the day before.
The pungent smell of wild garlic had also begun to fade, so he crushed several more handfuls of leaves and scattered them around the area.
Then he returned to the hollow beneath the oak and continued waiting.
A hunter had to learn patience.
The creatures of the forest followed their own rhythms, and he could do nothing but wait for them.
The next morning, just as the sky began to turn gray, a piercing cry came from the direction of the trap.
Adrian’s eyes snapped open, his short axe already in his hand.
He rolled out of the hollow, lowered himself close to the ground, and crept toward the trail.
The turf covering the pit had collapsed.
A dark hole gaped in the middle of the path.
Mud had been kicked up around the edges, and broken branches lay scattered across the ground.
He tightened his grip on the axe and peered inside.
It was a roe deer.
It was not the large stag he had hoped for, but a much smaller animal with grayish-yellow fur.
The hair around its hind legs and belly had been soaked dark brown with blood.
The deer lay on its side at the bottom of the pit, its four legs curled inward.
Sharpened stakes protruded beneath its body, one driven into the base of a hind leg and another buried in its abdomen.
It was still alive.
Its ribs rose and fell rapidly, while a broken, coughing whimper escaped its throat.
One of its front hooves scraped weakly against the earthen wall.
It scratched once, fell still, and then tried again.
Adrian did not hesitate.
He climbed into the trap, carefully placing his boots between the sharpened stakes.
The moment his feet struck the mud beside it, the roe deer startled and tried to rise, but the stakes held it firmly in place.
It struggled once, and the low whimper in its throat became a sharp cry of distress.
He seized the loose skin behind its neck.
The muscles beneath the fur were taut, and its body felt almost feverishly hot against his palm.
Pulling the deer’s head back to expose its throat, he drew the blade of his short axe across it.
The cry stopped.
He remained crouched beside the animal until its body had gone completely limp.
Only then did he release it, wipe the blood from his axe against its fur, and tuck the weapon back into his belt.
Grasping both hind legs, he lifted the carcass upward.
The sharpened stakes slid free of the flesh with a wet, grinding sound.
The roe deer was far lighter than a full-grown stag, but it still weighed seventy or eighty pounds.
He hoisted it onto his shoulder.
The pressure pulled at the wound in his left shoulder, sending a dull throb through the joint, but he clenched his teeth and began climbing.
He used the footholds he had carved into the wall of the pit.
His boots slipped twice, sending clumps of mud tumbling downward, and he only managed to scramble out on his third attempt.
He lowered the roe deer onto the ground beside the trap and stood there taking several deep breaths.
Once he had recovered, he crouched to examine the carcass.
Blood had matted the fur around the hind leg into thick clumps, while the wound in the belly continued to ooze.
The hide had been torn in two places, but most of it remained intact.
Once properly treated, it would be large enough for a hat or perhaps a pair of boot uppers.
There was far less meat than there would have been on a red deer.
Even so, an animal weighing seventy or eighty pounds would provide enough food to sustain him for quite some time.
There were other useful materials as well: sinew, fat, bone, and antler.
The roe deer’s antlers were small, each bearing only two short tines.
They were not large enough to be shaped into tools like those of a red deer, but the hardened tips could still be ground into needles, awls, or crude arrowheads.
It was not the prize he had imagined, but it was far from a poor catch.
He could not carry the carcass directly back to camp.
The blood dripping from its wounds would leave a trail through the forest and lead the wolves straight to his shelter.
He laid the deer flat beside the trap.
Its body was still warm, and although blood no longer poured from the abdominal wound, even slight pressure caused more to seep from the torn flesh.
Drawing his short axe again, he deepened the cut across the throat to drain what blood remained.
It spilled into the mud and slowly spread through the soil.
The first step was to remove the hide.
He rolled the roe deer onto its back and began at the chin, guiding the edge of the axe through the thin layer of tissue between skin and flesh.
The hide gradually peeled apart, revealing pale fascia and dark red muscle underneath.
He pushed his fingers into the opening and pulled the skin outward while carefully slicing through the connective tissue.
The hide remained faintly warm as it came away, its inner surface coated with patches of fat and membrane.
Once it had been completely removed, he spread it on the nearby mud with the fur facing downward.
For now, the exposed inner surface would be left to dry beneath the sun.
Next came the organs.
He spread the hind legs apart and made a shallow incision through the soft abdomen below the sternum.
He worked carefully to avoid puncturing the stomach or intestines.
The liver and heart were set aside.
They would spoil quickly and needed to be eaten before the other meat.
Once the stomach and intestines had been removed, the abdominal cavity looked more than half empty.
He then ran the blade down either side of the spine and cut free the two strips of tenderloin.
The meat was dark red, tightly grained, and firm beneath his fingers.
These were the most tender cuts on the entire animal.
He wrapped both strips in several broad blackberry leaves and placed them aside.
Afterward, he separated the four legs at the joints.
The front legs were smaller, but the meat covering them was dense and firm.
The hind legs held the thickest cuts.
Each time he hacked through a joint, he could feel the resistance of the tough sinews before they finally parted.
He stacked the legs together, looped a length of vine around them above the hooves, and tied them into two pairs.
A considerable amount of meat remained along the ribs and spine.
He cut it away from the bones piece by piece and stacked it beside the tenderloin.
The scraps around the neck went into a separate pile.
He remained crouched beside the carcass, his hands and the handle of the short axe slick with blood.
The wind was blowing from the north, carrying the scent southward into the deeper forest.
If wolves came, that was likely the direction they would appear from.
He quickly organized the butchered meat.
The four legs were tied together, the rib meat and smaller scraps were threaded onto vines, and the tenderloin and organs were wrapped separately in leaves.
He rolled the hide into a bundle with the fur facing inward and the exposed skin facing out.
Then he chopped the antlers free from the skull.
There were two of them, each with a pair of tines.
Their tips were hard enough to scrape bark or pierce tough leather.
There was too much for him to carry at once.
The roe deer might have weighed only seventy or eighty pounds, but after adding the hide, organs, bones, and awkwardly shaped cuts of meat, transporting everything in one journey would be impossible.
He first took the four legs and the rolled hide.
Throwing them over his shoulder, he hurried back toward camp at a much faster pace than usual.
When he arrived, he placed everything in the deepest part of the lean-to and covered it with dry grass.
He then immediately turned around and headed back toward the trap.
The second trip would be for the rib meat, scraps, tenderloin, and organs.
By the time he returned, several jackdaws had already landed on the remains.
They perched on the bones and pecked at the scraps of meat lodged in the narrow crevices.
As Adrian approached, the birds flapped away and settled on a nearby branch.
They tilted their heads and watched him with dark, unblinking eyes.
He gathered the remaining meat and lifted it onto his shoulder.
Before leaving, he glanced once more at the stripped carcass.
That was everything worth taking.
There would be no need for a third journey.
Back at camp, he placed all the meat beneath the lean-to and covered it tightly with layers of dry grass and fern leaves.
He spread the hide over a flat rock and began scraping away the remaining fat and fascia from its inner surface.
Without proper tanning materials, he could do little more than leave it to dry.
It would stiffen, but at least it would not immediately rot.
The organs were left outside the pile.
They had to be cooked that day.
Adrian crouched before the stone hearth and stirred the coals back to life.
He sliced the liver into small pieces, threaded them onto a sharpened branch, and held them over the flames.
As the fire licked the meat, the surface quickly changed from dark red to grayish brown.
The edges curled slightly, and moisture began to bead along the cuts.
Drops of fat and blood fell onto the charcoal with a hiss, releasing thin wisps of bluish smoke.
A rich aroma spread through the shelter, mixing the sweet metallic scent of fresh meat with the smoky smell of the fire.
He sat beside the hearth and ate the roasted liver one piece at a time.
It was soft and required almost no effort to chew.
Its flavor was rich and metallic, with a faint raw sweetness that lingered on his tongue.
He scattered a few grains of wood-ash salt over the remaining pieces.
The salt subdued the raw flavor and added a subtle savoriness.
Adrian chewed slowly, allowing himself to enjoy the meal.
This was the second truly valuable food he had obtained from the riverbank.
The first had been fish, and now he had venison.
After swallowing the final piece of liver, he licked the grease from his fingers.
By then, darkness had completely fallen.
The last traces of light had vanished from the river, and the forest beyond the fire was pitch-black.