The Wild Hunt

The Wild Hunt

from

Lora Ley – Book Six – Winter Tales

Copyright 2023 Sylvia Rose, Smashwords Edition

all rights reserved

Distributed by Smashwords

Reproduction of this work in whole or in part in any manner without express written consent is prohibited

The Wild Hunt

A Lora Ley Novella

Table of Contents

Foreword

The Wild Hunt

About the Author

Other Books by Sylvia Rose

Lora Ley – Book One – Secrets of the Nyx

Lora Ley – Book Two – Nibelung

Lora Ley – Book Three – The Swan Maidens

Lora Ley – Book Four – Poltergeist

Lora Ley – Book Five – The Corn Spirits

Lora Ley – Book Six – Winter Tales

Plight of the Lutzelfrau – a Lora Ley novella

Reiker For Hire – a Lora Ley novella

Feast of Fools – a Lora Ley novella

Gypsy Violin

Reiker For Hire Victorian Detective Murder Mysteries

FOREWORD

Long cold nights of winter are the perfect time for telling tales. Throughout history, stories and songs passed down the knowledge, traditions and folklore of the people of Germania.

The Wild Hunt or Wilde Jagd is a paranormal phenomenon occurring in myths of many cultures, including German, Scandinavian, Celtic, English and French. Among the participants are gods, heroes, elves, undead spirits, Valkyries, witches, horses of six or eight legs, werewolves and other supernatural beings.

In Germany the leader of the Hunt can be any of several legendary figures, such as Frau Holle (aka Hulda), Siegfried of Xanten, the Huntress Diana, Frigg or Odin of the Norse. Even Knecht Ruprecht, a companion helper of St. Nicolas, has his wild side. With the spread of Christianity, tales of the pagan Wild Hunt began to include the Devil as leader.

In southern parts of Germany the spectacle may be known as the Furious Host (Wütendes Heer) instead of Wild Hunt. In the path of the Hunt, it's best of lie flat on the ground, or be swept up into the horde.

Characters featured in this tale include Krampus, a familiar figure in Austria and the Bavarian Alps. At Yule he's a helper of St. Nicholas and doles out punishment to the naughty. Events known as Krampus Runs, in which groups of Krampuses try to hit runners with birch switches, are still popular entertainment at Yuletide. Krampus is thought to originate in pre-Christian alpine traditions.

A novella from the Lora Ley collection Winter Tales, our story takes place in mid-southern Germany at the end of the nineteenth century, on Fat Thursday in February. As people of the eastern farmlands experience strange happenings, Nyx halflings Lora Ley and Wolf are drawn into a battle among deities, and Skoldt the vegan brook horse receives a dire summons from Norway. Trickster energies unite to threaten the existence of gods and humans alike. Can Lora and her friends stop them?

THE WILD HUNT

This tale begins the way many do. Two good friends sat together in the kitchen, watching the pink and orange splendor of the sunset wink from the icicles outside the window. The day's work was done, the animals fed.

Bachelor farmers, the two men were friends from childhood and owned neighboring farmsteads. They had chickens, pigs, a horse, a couple of cows. Bernhardt Braun and Franz Fischer were always together and had such camaraderie, people often thought them brothers.

Now they relaxed in Bern's rambling kitchen. He turned up the lamps as dusk deepened. Blue shadows spread over the patches of snow and mud of wheat field and yards. Franz put a birch log on the fire, broke up the embers with a poker and made the sparks dance. Bernhardt uncorked another jug of cider and poured. They toasted and clinked mugs and drank.

This one's left from the year before last, said Bern. Since it's Fat Thursday we should drink it before it goes to vinegar.

Franz laughed. Fat Thursday in February was the traditional day to eat the remaining meat and fat of last year's abundance, as the weather warmed and natural refrigeration faltered. For Franz and Bern the rule also applied to cider.

About a decade before, they pooled their resources and bought an orchard on a piece of adjoining land. The work was hard but it paid off. What produce they didn't use they sold locally. Franz and Bern's apple cider won a prize at the Fair almost every time. At the market, bakers and housewives alike sought the zesty sweet apples.

What kind are they? people asked.

Hybrid, they said, because they hadn't a clue, and their apples became known around town as Franzundberns.

Now, they stretched in their chairs by the warmth of the fire. After Fat Thursday, spring preparations around the farms began in earnest. The farmers fixed fences, cleaned out the barns and checked their fruit trees. Early calves were on the way and cows rich with milk. Autumn abundance carried the farmers through winter. Now their winter stocks were low and they looked forward to the generosity of springtime.

What you doing tomorrow? said Bern.

Dunno, said Franz. What you doing?

Need to clean out the hen coop and reinforce that fence.

Right. I'll help. Did you see the fox again?

Bern shook his head. Gave him a butt full of buckshot, I hope.

Scared him off.

Nah, I got him. There was blood.

How d'you know it wasn't from the chicken?

Bern shrugged. I followed the blood trail but it ended at the creek. It's fast and overflowing with the spring melt coming down from the hills. He probably ducked through the bushes to the old bridge.

We could look for his den.

Might never find it. Better fix the fence. He got two chickens already, not to mention fresh eggs.

A loud crack came from outside, and they jumped. Bern ran for his shotgun while Franz shaded his eyes and peered out the window. Sounded like a tree splitting, he said. It could happen as weather changes caused wood to swell or shrink. He turned down the lamps and looked out the window, but saw nothing unusual in the misty night.

Bern came up beside him, shotgun in hand. I'll just take the lantern out and look around.

I'll come with you. Where's the dog?

Dog?

Don't you have a dog? Floppy ears, green collar?

Mangy fleabag ran away three months ago. You never noticed?

They each took a lantern and went onto the front porch. A night bird called. Pigs snorted in their shed. The elm tree in the front yard was split down the middle of the trunk. Boughs swept the sky at