Chapter 28
Dawn found Aiden with a full stomach and new energy. He has taken the time to cook enough meat to carry with him, leaving the rest for the ravens, crows and other scavengers. He had learned two things that night. First, he realized that his will to live was, at least, as strong as any animals instinct to survive. It wasn't simply a matter of using logic or strategy, but cold heartless rage. He wondered if unleashing his own animal nature that night acted to bring himself down to the level of an animal, or perhaps it was just something that was always there, masked by a thin veneer of humanness. Second, although his previous night's meal had been filling, Aiden found that wolf meat was tough and stringy. But, food was food and Aiden could not afford to be picky. He had to take his meals where he could find them.
He continued wandering north through the mountains, away from the Vale of Pickering, leaving the terrifying events of the previous night behind him. What lay before him would be easy to navigate as the mossy grass-covered mountains were nothing more than a narrow range, separating the Vale of Pickering from the Yorkshire Moors. Near the coast of York, the poet's pen would paint it as a land of timeless mystique. An ancient place living a life of its own, haunted by the specters of a noble history, covered with centuries of war, blood and grief. On a moonless night, when the air was cold and still, one could hear the faint ghostly murmur of clashing steel, the screams of men at war and the gasping breath of the dying. The moors, mountains, and valleys of the English countryside were not so much haunted as they were cursed. The dead still fought, their souls still tied to the land, their passions still anchored firmly to a cause they had long since died for. And although the dust of battle had settled eons ago, the fight continued on the ethereal field of combat, where dusky sentinels still stood watch, waiting for an enemy that would never arrive.
Aiden found his way through the mountains within only a few hours. Leaving the valley at sunrise gave him the luxury of time and Aiden would make good use of it in crossing the Yorkshire Moors. He would either arrive at the waters of the North Sea or wander Northwest, towards the Scottish border. But for Aiden, it didn't matter where he ended up. He was a man not governed by the laws that bound ordinary men to civic obligations or kingly loyalties, but his own cause. One that no man nor law would impede.