“When this is over,” he said. “When it feels safe. When we know more about this place . . .” He said some more, but his voice faded into words and phrases she did not understand, and sleep welcomed her down.

IF SHE HAD nightmares she did not remember them. She had gone to sleep expecting her rest to be unsettled, waking when the night sounds of this place began, dreaming of the climb they had finished and the fall they had avoided. But when she woke it was daylight again. Her joints were stiff and her muscles ached, and Beko was crouched beside her with his hand pressed to her mouth.

“Be still,” he said. “And quiet. That most of all.”

Nomi nodded and he took his hand away.

Behind Beko she could see Noon and Rhiana crouched at the lip of the hollow where they had made camp. They were looking east, their outlines silhouetted against the rising sun. Noon had his sword drawn, and Rhiana was holding her bow, strung with one of her remaining arrows. They were very still, very quiet, and their tension was palpable.

In the distance, Nomi heard something screech. Another voice answered, a cry followed by a series of harsh rattles and cracks.

Beko had turned away and Nomi touched his leg. When he looked, she raised her eyebrows. What?

He leaned in close and whispered in her ear. “Things out on the grassland. We've seen four but I think there may be more. Big. Fast.” But Nomi knew he had not told her everything. She sat up and crawled toward Noon and Rhiana, Beko by her side.

He held her shoulder just before she reached them, and whispered again. “They're strange. Like people, only different. Best to warn you.”

Nomi nodded, not quite sure what he meant. Once beside Rhiana, she pulled herself up the small incline and peered over the top. At first she could see nothing moving save shifting shadows thrown by bushes rustling in the breeze. The wind took her breath away for a beat—a cool gust that seemed to usher in the rising sun. It brought smells she did not recognize from places she had yet to visit.

She heard that cry again, followed by the same clicks and rattles as before. If there was language in there it was strange, and unrelated to anything she had ever heard. Then she saw the first shape. It emerged from the landscape two hundred steps away: tall, stooped, long legs marching it delicately but speedily across the grassland, long arms hanging down and ending in wide hands. Its head stood atop a short thin neck, and gray hair hung down in tied bunches around its face. It was too far away to make out for sure, but from what Nomi could see it looked almost human. And it wore clothing.

She gasped. “What the piss is that?”