They were coming, a long, ranging line of them. Distance made the figures small, but they were drawing steadily nearer, moving at the effortless lope that had not diminished in the slightest. Sunlight glinted on their hides, still wet from the night’s rainfall; on a few, it glinted on armor. One of them hoisted a waterskin, raising it as if in mocking salute, then tilted it to drink deep. Its pace never faltered.

Uncle Thulu swallowed audibly. “Run!”

They ran.

At a hundred paces, they reached the verge and began scrambling down the crags. Dani used hands and feet alike, ignoring the scraping pain in his palms and soles. Something gave way with a tearing sound near his right shoulder and a fresh jag of pain wrenched at him. He ignored that, too.

“This way!” Thulu plunged into the trees at the base of the decline. Checking the clay flask at his throat, Dani ran after him. Behind him, he could hear the sound of talons on rocks and the hunting cries of the Fjel.

Under the canopy of trees, it was cool and green. The loamy ground was soft, muting their footfalls. Gilded shafts of sunlight pierced the green. Drops of gathered rain slid from the leaves overhead, shining as they fell. Over the sound of water and birdsong and the harsh breath rattling in his lungs, Dani could hear the calls of the Fjel as they spread out through the woods. He found a burst of new energy in fresh terror.

They ran.

“Come on.” Uncle Thulu panted grimly, veering northward toward the sound of rushing water. “Maybe the river …” He slowed, saving his breath as they rounded the trunk of a massive ash tree and came upon it; the White River, plunging down from the mountains in a series of cataracts. Water gathered in pools, spilling downward. “Maybe …”

Dani stifled a shout and pointed.

Beside one of the pools, one of the Fjel crouched on its powerful haunches, grey and motionless as a boulder. Its yellow eyes gleamed in its narrow visage. The intelligence in them was almost human. It shook its head slowly, baring its eyetusks in a predator’s grin.

“Go!” Thulu shoved Dani back the way they had come. “Go, lad, go!”

They fled due west, straining their ears for the sounds of pursuit. If any was forthcoming, it was inaudible over the river-sound and their own labored breathing. Dani, running hard, felt the sharp stitch of pain return in his left side.

“South,” Uncle Thulu gasped. “We’ll cut south and pick up the river later!”