The sun was below the horizon when a bird called out from the valley below. Herilak was instantly awake; cupping his hands to his mouth he answered the call. There was a crackling in the brush and Ortnar came into view running easily up the slope.

“Gone,” he said. “Gone the way they came.”

“You can’t be sure,” Kerrick said. Ortnar looked at him scornfully.

“Of course I am sure. I found no fresh tracks. And the carrion birds were everywhere—and they are quick to take fright. And I searched as well.” His drawn face spoke louder than words. He pointed to the arrows that now filled his quiver. “Everything we need is there.”

“We go now,” Herilak announced.

It was well after dark when they reached the site of the massacre, but the gibbous moon’s cold light enabled them to find the way. The crows and buzzards were gone with the daylight and now the mantle of darkness concealed the worst horrors of the massacre. The smell of decay was already strong. Kerrick stood on the shore, looking out to sea, while the others searched for what was needed. He turned back reluctantly to face the slaughter only when Herilak called to him.

“Put these on,” the sammadar said. “They belonged to a great hunter. May they bring you good fortune.”

There were fur leggings with solid leather soles, a cape, belt, and other heavy garments. Too warm for the summer, but they would make the difference between life and death when the snows came. A long spear, stout bow, arrows. Kerrick made a bundle of the things he would not wear and put it with the other bundles and baskets they were taking. Herilak had taken some of the crosspoles from one of the large mastodon travois and made a smaller one that they could pull. Everything they needed was now lashed into place upon it.

“We go now,” he said, his voice grim as death with the dead of the sammad on all sides of him. “We will never forget what the murgu have done here.”

They walked until the moon set, taking turns between the shafts of the travois, until they were too tired to go any farther. Kerrick still feared that Yilanè hunters were searching for him, but so great was his fatigue that he fell asleep while he was worrying and did not stir until dawn.