The Vacuum of Night

The day was getting late and the shadows descended on the ground below the cliffs. They went back to the stone staircase and took it apart. They set several stones on the travois and returned to the grave site. After setting the stones on the graves in a loose formation, it looked like the rocks might have fallen from the cliff.

They pulled the last two stones on the travois back to the campsite. "Ho! Any luck hunting?" Alpen asked as they descended the riverbank. Fallon shook his head. Alpen crossed the river and took a stone across the river. "It seems like there are fewer animals as we go south. Have you noticed that?"

Fallon set the travois down on the shore bank. He deliberately kept his voice casual. "Now that you mention it, I guess that's so." He  turned back to help Drindl. "You wash your hands?" Drindl nodded. They brought the rest of the gear across the river.

That night, Fallon had some difficulty falling asleep. His ears were alert for an invisible threat moving in the darkness. Not a wolfbear. Something much worse. There could only be one reason why there were fewer animals as they approached the southern highlands. There were more of these creatures. He fought down a primitive urge to turn away from their southern journey. And go where, he asked himself?  Take their chances with Sarten? To the east and the high mountains? How would they survive with four young ones? Alithea stirred at his restlessness. He held her hand and she relaxed. A warrior uses worry, his teacher told him. Like a whetstone, it hones his spirit to a sharp and deadly edge.