time, turning to a dull, throbbing ache. She sat back wearily,
listening to the sound of her own breathing mesh with Garth’s
in the silence.
Time slipped away. Stresa did not return. Wren allowed her
eyes to close and her thoughts to drift. How far were they from
the river now? she wondered. The Rowen lay between them-
selves and Arborlon, and once they had crossed it they would
reach the Elves. She considered momentarily what that meant.
She had barely allowed herself time to think about the fact that
the Elves even existed, that they were not simply rumor or
legend, but real and alive, and that against all odds, she had
found them. Or almost found them, at least. Another day, two
at the most . .
She let her eyes open again and that was when she saw the
creature.
At first she thought she must be mistaken, that the shadows
were playing tricks on her. But there was sufficient light for her
to trust what she was seeing. It crouched motionless on a shelf
of rock several feet behind Garth. It was small, barely a dozen
inches high, she guessed, although it was hard to be certain
when it was hunched down that way. It had large, round eyes
that stared fixedly and huge ears pointing off a tiny head with a
fox face. It had a spindly body and looked vaguely spiderlike at
first glance-so much so that Wren had to fight down a mo-
ment’s revulsion as she recalled the encounter with the Wis-
teron. But it was small and helpless looking, and it had tiny
hands and feet like a human. It stared at her, and she stared
back. She knew instinctively that the odd creature had chosen
this cleft as a hiding place just as they had. It had frozen in place
to avoid being seen, but now it was discovered and was trying
to decide what to do.
Wren smiled and kept still. The creature watched, eyes
searching. Casually Wren caught Garth’s attention, brought her
hands up slowly, and told him what was going on. She asked
him to ease over next to her. He did so, and they sat together
studying the creature. After a while, Wren reached into her
pack and extracted a few scraps of food. She took a bite of some
cheese and passed what remained to Garth. The big man fin-
ished it. The creature’s tongue licked out.
“Hello, little one,” Wren said softly. “Are you hungry?”
The tongue reappeared.
“Can you talk?”
No response. Wren leaned forward with a bit of cheese. The
creature did not move. She eased a little closer. The creature
stayed motionless. She hesitated, not certain what to do next.
When the creature still did not move, she stretched out her
hand cautiously and gently tossed the cheese toward the ledge.
Faster than the eye could follow, the creature’s hand shot
out and caught the cheese in midair. After hauling in its catch,
the creature sniffed it, then gobbled it down.
“Hungry indeed, aren’t you?” Wren whispered.
There was a shuffling at the entrance to their hiding place.
The creature on the rock vanished instantly into the shadows.
Wren and Garth turned, swords drawn.
“Hhrrrrgghh,” Stresa muttered as he eased slowly into view,
puffing and grunting. “Demon wouldn’t give up the hunt. Ffphtt.
Took much longer than I thought to lose it.” He shook his quills
until they rattled.
“Are you all right?” Wren asked.
The Splinterscat bristled. “Of course I’m all right. Do you
see anything wrong with me? Ssstttt! I’m winded, that’s all.”
Wren glanced furtively at the ledge. The strange creature
was back again, watching.
“Can you tell me what that is?” she asked, nodding in the
direction of the creature.
Stresa peered into the gloom and then snorted. “Ssspptt.
That’s just a Tree Squeak! Completely harmless.”
“It looks frightened.”
The Splinterscat blinked. “Tree Squeaks are frightened of
everything. That’s what keeps them alive. That and their quick-
ness. Fastest things on Morrowindl. Smart, too. Smart enough
not to let themselves get trapped. You can be certain there is
another way out of this crevice or this one wouldn’t even be