gnarled wind-bent trees that looked to be some variety of fir.
The plain ran south between the high peaks and the ocean for
as far as the eye could see, a broad, uneven collection of flats
across which the sultry air hung thick and unmoving.
Wren and Garth glanced wearily at each other and started
across. Overhead, the storm clouds inched closer to the sun.
Finally they enveloped it completely, and a low breeze sprang
up. The heat faded, and shadows began to blanket the land.
Wren slipped the headband into her pocket and waited for
her body to cool.
They discovered the valley a short time after that, a deep
cleft in the plain that was hidden until one was almost on top
of it. The valley was broad, nearly half a mile across, sheltered
against the weather by a line of knobby hills that lay east and a
rise in the cliffs west and by broad stands of trees that filled it
wall to wall. Streams ran through the valley; Wren could hear
the gurgle even from atop the rim, rippling along rocks and
down gullies. With Garth trailing, she descended into the valley,
intrigued by the prospect of what she might find there. Within
a short time they came upon a clearing. The clearing was thick
with weeds and small trees, but devoid of any old growth. A
quick inspection revealed the rubble of stone foundations buried
beneath the undergrowth. The old growth had been cut away
to make room for houses. People had lived here once-a large
number of them.
Wren looked about thoughtfully. Was this what they were
looking for? She shook her head. There were no caves at least
not here, but .
She left the thought unfinished, beckoned hurriedly to
Garth, mounted her horse, and started for the cliffs west.
They rode out of the valley and onto the rocks that sepa-
rated them from the ocean. The rocks were virtually treeless,
but scrub and grasses grew out of every crack and crevice. Wren
maneuvered to reach the highest point, a sort of shelf that over-
hung the cliffs and the ocean. When she was atop it, she dis-
mounted. Leaving her horse, she walked forward. The rock was
bare here, a broad depression on which nothing seemed able to
grow. She studied it momentarily. It reminded her of a fire pit,
scoured and cleansed by the flames. She avoided looking at
Garth and walked to the edge. The wind was blowing steadily
now and whipped against her face in sudden gusts as she peered
down. Garth joined her silently. The cliffs fell away in a sheer
drop. Pockets of scrub grew out of the rock in a series of thick
clusters. Tiny blue and yellow flowers bloomed, curiously out
of place. Far below, the ocean rolled onto a narrow, empty
shoreline, the waves beginning to build again as the storm
neared, turning to white foam as they broke apart on the rocks.
Wren studied the drop for a long time. The growing dark-
ness made it difficult to see clearly. Shadows overlay everything,
and the movement of the clouds caused the light to shift across
the face of the rock.
The Rover girl frowned. There was something wrong with
what she was looking at; something was out of place. She could
not decide what it was. She sat back on her heels and waited
for the answer to come.
Finally she had it. There were no seabirds anywhere-not a
one.
She considered what that meant for a moment, then turned
to Garth and signed for him to wait. She rose and trotted to her
horse, pulled a rope free from her pack, and returned. Garth
studied her curiously. She signed quickly, anxiously. She wanted
him to lower her over the side. She wanted to have a look at
what was down there.
Working silently, they knotted one end of the rope in sling
fashion beneath Wren’s arms and the other end about a projec-
tion close to the cliff edge. Wren tested the knots and nodded.
Bracing himself, Garth began lowering the girl slowly over the
edge. Wren descended cautiously, choosing hand and footholds