Hawksmaid Read Online Free PDF

from Matty’s belt. The boys were at a large boulder near the creek where theywere fishing.
    â€œDon’t call Moss that, Will. It’s so rude,” Matty said.
    â€œDo you suppose, Matty,” Will asked in the next breath, “that we could have a bit of down from Moss?”
    â€œAfter you’ve called her a murderess! I wouldn’t dare ask!”
    â€œI agree with Matty,” Rich Much said as he fiddled with his own fishing lure. “Very rude to insult her bird and then beg a feather.” He pushed back his dark hair and squinted at the lure. “You know, this is very lovely, this lure—very elegant, I’d say, with this thistledown on it.”
    â€œForget elegant! Will it catch fish?” Hubie Bigge asked. “I don’t need feathers or dog hair. I got me own hair. It’s red. It’s wiry. It can’t be beat for trout—better than mayflies or stone nymphs.”
    â€œI prefer a robin’s feathers,” Fynn said, “but hedgehog bristles serve well, too. Use them for fletching all my arrows and they works for fishing.”
    â€œThat’s the problem with your fishing, Fynn,” Hubie said. “You think you’re shooting an arrow and not casting a lure. It’s not an attack.”
    â€œIt’s a deception,” Will added with great authority.
    Hubie scratched his head. His brow crinkled with sudden concern. “Hey, Fynn! Fish don’t count, right?”
    â€œDon’t count for what?”
    â€œDon’t count as animals like harts and hinds. Your father and the other gamekeepers won’t be on our tails, right?”
    â€œOf course not. Are you daft? What do they care about a few trout?”
    â€œI just wondered.” Hubie glanced back over his shoulder slightly nervously. “Because when I was coming across the creek upstream, I swore I saw a man. But he jumped back in the shadows.”
    â€œMaybe he wasn’t one of the gamekeepers but one of the king’s forest officers,” Rich said. “They know Fynn’s father’s been too soft with the locals. They’re sending in some of the sheriff’s men. At least that’s what I’ve heard.”
    â€œBut Fynn’s father’s gotten tougher,” Will said. “Hauled in old Harry the cobbler. Found arrows in his house and a trap with harts’ hair.”
    Fynn sighed. “Fishing isn’t a problem. So don’t worry about my father or the sheriff’s men. They don’tcare about fishing.” He fiddled with his lure, trying to attach some bristles to it.
    But Matty understood Fynn and saw a shadow cross his face. He wasn’t as unconcerned as he would like them to believe. She knew that he was not going to forget about the figure in the shadows. Fynn, of course, had the most to fear from being caught. His father might turn a blind eye, but the sheriff’s forest officers would not.
    The boys and Matty sat now under the budding branches of the tree near the creek, working diligently on their lures for the fish they knew would be rising as the day grew warmer. Matty carefully picked through the train of Moss’s tail feathers and shook out a small clump of loose down. “Here you go, Will. This should do for more than one fishing lure.”
    â€œYes, that will do,” Will said. “Hubie, might you spare me some of your wiry hair for binding this?”
    Hubert’s face clenched as he pulled out a strand, then another, and another. In all he pulled out five.
    Matty smiled. This was what she loved about being in the forest with her friends. They were all different but equal, and they shared everything, even hair! She wished it could be this way forever. She wished thatthey could always be here in the greenwood, smelling the wet bark on the trees, feeling the spongy moss that fleshed the earth and draped the rocks. In another few weeks the leaves would unfurl, casting lacy shadows