"Eat well, my son. When you are called you will have little time for food." His mother smiled. Yet her smile is a little wan, for she fears for his welfare.
"You know, Theresa is a lovely girl. She was by when you were on your last hunt. I think she likes you."
He ignored her comments. He has no thought for Theresa.
"She's a very pretty girl. A little younger than you, but not so much. Her parents look with favor on you, too."
She glanced at him, judging the impact of her words.
Disappointed, she returned to preparing the meal.
After eating he tested the strength of his great bow. Made of the finest wood, it drove arrow after arrow deep into the oak at the edge of the forest.
Braving the rain he went to the tree to regain his arrows. All but one were retrieved. Demo frowned, for the tree gripped the last arrow stubbornly.
Rough sat on his haunches, a quizzical look on his face as he watched his master tugging at the arrow. Suddenly Rough growled. He rushed toward the tree, barking.
Demo pulled even harder, glancing up into the tree as he did so. There, seated on the lowest limb, sneered the fox-imp. It smiled in delight at his efforts to free the arrow.
"Listen, mortal. My master Pluto sends you greetings. You are a great hunter." The imp stopped with a frown.