Illarion exhaled slightly as he finally relaxed his focus and hold on the Hunt.
Admittedly, the reputation Lady Brunilda mentioned about reading was not inaccurate. A little over a century ago, the Hunt had still run down any unfortunate person that happened to leave a trail for them to find during their ride.
It was called the 'Wild' Hunt for a reason.
A precursor to the cold winter back in history and a warning to switch to indoor activities in the present.
The Hunt had been a ritual practice for hundreds of years. There was a wild magic about it that Illarion witnessed and felt since he first joined the Hunt. That inexplicable connection to the land and power that drove them to be able to ride relentlessly after their prey.
It was the reason he always had difficulty understanding the occult teachings in New Albion that had arisen in the last century or two.
