Herilak led the way up into the hills, staying in the shadow of the trees all the while. He walked at a fast and steady pace and the others followed. They were all strong and fit, had eaten well before the march began. They were bent now under the weight of the burdens on their back, but most of this was food so their packs would become lighter as they went. It was important at this time not to take the time to hunt, but to put as much distance between themselves and the sammads as they could. When the birds flew, as fly they would, their departure must not be noted. They must vanish into the wilderness.
They went on without stopping until it was too dark to see the track, until they were stumbling with fatigue. Only then did Herilak call a halt. He dropped his burden to the ground and the others did the same, grunting with pleasure. Kerrick came and sat next to him and shared his meat. They ate in silence as the darkness thickened and the stars appeared. Above them in the trees an owl called.
“Are they watching us already? Will that owl tell the other birds that we are here?” Herilak asked, concerned.
“No. That is just an owl. The birds that spy us out talk only to the murgu, not to one another. The raptor that saw us yesterday will not have returned to Alpèasak yet, so they still believe that we are camped on the shore. By the time they discover that we have gone and send others to look for us, we will be far distant. They will find the sammads and track them. They will not think to look for us here. Our danger of being seen will only come again when we are close to their city.”
“Then it will be too late.”
“Yes, then it will be too late for them.”
Brave words, Kerrick thought to himself, and smiled wryly in the darkness. Could this little band of hunters really destroy that mighty city with all its teeming inhabitants? It did not seem possible. How many were there here? Less than the count of three hault, the count of three men. Armed with hèsotsan—but so were the Yilanè. Hesotsan and arrows and spears to fight a powerful race that had filled the world since the egg of time. The impossibility of this brought a darkness to his thoughts even darker than the night around them. How could it be done?
Yet even as he felt these doubtful thoughts his fingers found the wooden chest he had brought with him from the valley. Inside the chest was the stone with the fire trapped inside it. With fire it might be done, could be done—would be done. With this firm resolve, held to him as tightly as he clenched the chest, he lay on his side and was asleep.
“The first birds that we sent out have returned,” Vaintè said. “The pictures have been examined and we think that the ustuzou pack from the shore is close to these mountains now, farther to the north.”
“You are sure?” Malsas< asked. "There is never certainty with the ustuzou since one of the creatures is very much like any other. But we do know that they are on the beach no longer, nor are there any packs of them still to the south." Stallan stayed behind them, silent, listening. No packs had been found, she agreed with that. But nothing still meant nothing. There was something wrong in all this. She had that feeling, a hunter's feeling, but did not know what was causing it. Malsas<, though not a hunter, all unknowingly shared her sense of unease. "I don't understand it. Why did the beasts make that long march to the shore—then leave almost at once?" Vaintè moved with uncertainty. "They hunt for food that they must have for the winter. They fish in the sea." "They had time for little hunting," Stallan said. "Exactly," Malsas< said. "Then what was their motive in doing this thing? Do they have motives—or do they simply run about like animals? You kept one for a long time, Vaintè, you must know."