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The Hunter on the Hill (Oromė, the Firstborn)

Off the Map’s Edge: The rides of Oromė


The Hunter on the Hill

“Many of us have seen him, the Hunter on the Hill. To some he is a creature of wonder, riding a silver horse with golden hooves whose whinny shakes the waters. To others he is a shadow-shape, blotting out the stars, chasing those who stray too far. And it is true that some have gone, have been lost in the night. Have they wandered away? Or have they been taken—?”

Hush. Listen. Can you hear their voices? The Firstborn have woken. They have begun to sing and speak.


The time is now. The Horseman rides forth. History is beginning.


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