Reynardine, Chapter 3

⁠​​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌‌​⁠He had come out this morning, his second morning in the country, to hunt, to kill the fox, to enjoy the sport he loved with what had become a mania. And now his day was being spoiled by old black memories. Perhaps it was the Abbey where Reynardine slept that nudged him with ghostly concentration, perhaps it was the field that ignored him as though he did not exist, perhaps it was the proximity of