By Robert Adams
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Additional info for A Woman of the Horseclans (Horseclans Saga 12)
He was short — shorter even than his nephew, short even by the standards of his race of short men — bandy-legged and physically incomplete. He lacked an eye, and part of both ears and was otherwise hideously scarred-by his lifetime of warring, raiding and hunting dangerous beasts. But he was jolly, warm of manner, and his ready laughter had boomed right often over the length and the breadth of the feasting ground throughout the most of the celebration. With the feasting generally done — warriors, women.
So, yes, let us move to an area not hunted out. ” The decision was made and unanimously agreed upon at that meeting. But there was yet another reason for moving the camp, a reason which no one of them would voice in council. They all felt this spot to be unlucky, for no less than nine young men had died while the clans had camped in this spot — six from Clan Krooguh, three from Clan Skaht — and that figure did not even include the old woman who had died in her sleep, the stripling of Clan Skaht who had been tossed and gored to his death by a herd bull, a girl who had inexplicably drowned in a nearby creek and another girl, only a toddler, who had fallen prey to a treecat while foraging in a stretch of forest with others of her clan.
Young Djahnee — or his lifeless husk, at least — returned stiff, roped onto the back of his horse. No one saw Djahn Staiklee’s face as he rode into camp, halted before the yurt he called home and dismounted, then commenced the task of untying his eldest son’s corpse from the trailing horse could doubt the depth and severity of his grief. So no one attempted oral or telepathic communication until he had freed and lifted down the heavy, awkward burden. Then, many hands took over the task of bearing the body to the bath area for cleansing.
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