“Do you know who they were? How many?”
“No. Just that some fled.”
“Now I must think. Whoever they are, they will not go any further south. They will know better than that. They will return, back the way we came. Yes, that is what they will do. Backtrack, to the nearest water, the stream where we camped last night. We must go there as well.” He looked up at Kerrick. “Have we been followed?”
“I have been watching. I don’t think that any of them saw us escape. But they will come. They are good trackers. I will not be allowed to escape after what I have done.”
“You worry without cause. They are not here yet. But we will not be safe until we are well away from the shore. They could still find us in these hills if, as you say, they know anything about tracking.” He struggled to rise, and could only get to his feet with Kerrick’s help. He rubbed the clotted blood from his eyes and looked about. “We go in that direction, along that valley. If we follow it north, then cross the ridge, we will come to the campsite by the stream. Now we leave.”
They made slow progress the rest of the afternoon, since they were forced to proceed at Herilak’s limping pace, going on steadily even though there was no sign of any pursuit. They were working their way up a grassy valley when Herilak stopped suddenly and raised his head to sniff the air.
“Deer,” he said. “We need food. I don’t think that we are being followed—but even if we are we must take the chance. You will bring a good-sized buck, Kerrick.”
Kerrick looked at the spear, tested its weight in his hand. “I have not thrown a spear since I was a boy. I no longer have the skill.”
“It will return.”
“Not this day. You have the skill, Herilak. Do you have the strength?” He held out the spear and Herilak seized it.
“When I lack the strength to hunt I will be dead. Go to the stream there, under the trees, keep watch and wait until I return.”
Herilak’s back straightened as he tested the balance of the spear, then he trotted swiftly and silently away. Kerrick turned and led the way down to the stream where he drank his fill, then poured handfuls of water over his dusty body. Inlènu* knelt down and sucked water noisily between her pointed teeth, then squatted comfortably on the bank with her tail in the stream.
Kerrick envied her peace of mind, her stability at all times. It must be pleasant to be so stupid. She didn’t question their presence here at all, had no concept of what might happen to her.
Kerrick knew what he had left behind—but the future was only a blank. He must come to terms with it: but it was too early to do that yet. How could he live away from the city? He knew nothing about this kind of rough existence. A boy’s memories did not fit him for Tanu life. He wasn’t even able to hurl a spear.
“A Yilanè comes,” Inlènu* said and he sprang to his feet, terrified. Stallan and her hunters! This was his death. He drew back from the crackling in the underbrush—then swayed with relief when Herilak pushed his way through, a horned buck draped across his shoulders. He dropped it heavily and fell beside it.
Kerrick turned angrily to reproach Inlènu*—then realized that it was not her fault. To Inlènu* all those who talked were Yilanè. What she really meant to say, though she knew no way to express it, was that someone, some person, was approaching.
“I saw murgu,” Herilak said, and Kerrick’s fear returned. “They were in the next valley, going back towards the sea. I think that they have lost our trail. Now we will eat.”
Herilak used the spear to open and gut the still-warm deer. Since they had no fire he cut out the liver first, divided it, and handed a piece to Kerrick.
“I am not hungry, not now,” Kerrick said, looking down at the raw and bloody lump of flesh.