Had I really hammered those nails? Or was it my imagination, fueled by those wretched guilt feelings? I was too hard on myself. Even if I’d driven the nails, I wouldn’t have done it without a good reason. Self-defense—that was it. Nick Seagrave was no killer—even Marci and the kids would have to admit that. I wasn’t perfect, but I was a decent person, better than most men.

I heard a familiar purring noise and saw the little gerbil on my chest. I petted it.

Back and forth I wavered, one minute wallowing in grief and guilt, the next in anger and self-defense. I sipped a few more drops from my water bottle, figuring that unless I found some decent water, I would soon die of thirst if I didn’t head back toward the mountain.

No! I’d rather die here than go back and try another dead-end road. I’d been lied to and disillusioned and made a fool of one time too many to start it all over again.

Quon chewed his fingernails. David paced, fixated on his position locator. The twins sat near each other but didn’t talk, didn’t look each other in the eyes. Victoria gazed blankly at the tree over the chasm, a look of disbelief frozen on her face. I said nothing to my companions. After what we’d seen each other do, what was there to say?

In the distance, over the chasm, I heard the predators continue their feeding frenzy upon the Woodsman’s carcass.

Did I really help serve them up this morbid meal?

Now I was pacing, kicking rocks, spitting out dust, moving up to the edge of the chasm and looking at it again, thinking maybe somehow it would look different this time. It didn’t.

Victoria came up to talk with me, but I backed away, hanging my head, not wanting to hear her excuses or offer mine.

Suddenly I heard the tortured howl of a beast. I looked up to see the great winged reptile retreating from the tree. The howl was quickly followed by hundreds of shrieks from the circling minions. The lesser reptiles flew toward our side of the chasm, fleeing in chaos from whatever it was they saw. Circling wildly, crashing into one another, they spied the hole in the glass floor and spiraled downward, crowding through and disappearing from Skia.

Then came a booming sound, like an approaching freight train, from the center of the tree. A gigantic stone was rolling on top of the tree with enormous momentum. As the flying dinosaur tried to flee, it was yanked down by some invisible force, and its head was caught on the tree. The great stone ran over it as it squawked hideously. Somehow the beast managed to flail its way toward the edge of the chasm, head mangled and bleeding.