Darion was stunned. It didn't show completely on his face, but it was there, the shock, the disbelief, the absolute what in the world am I looking at? For a moment he simply stood there staring at the pile of meat as though someone had dumped a small mountain of gold in front of him.
Seven Cteedles. One Bogart. Five rabbits.
The numbers repeated themselves inside his head: seven, one, five.
This was supposed to be a training hunt. A first hunt. A chance for the archers to practice against moving targets and maybe bring back enough meat to justify the trip. That was what Darion had expected, perhaps one deer-sized creature, maybe a couple of rabbits, and if they were particularly lucky, a Bogart. That was the extent of his expectations.
Not this. Definitely not this.
