“Get back!” he called to Herilak as the glow sprang up from the darkness ahead. A dim light that quickly grew brighter and brighter until they could see clearly. And be seen. There was the crack of weapons and darts rustled quick death into the grass around them. They crawled as fast as they could, stood and ran into the welcoming darkness as soon as they were out of range. Stumbling and falling, gasping for breath, they did not stop until they reached the ridge above.

Behind them the lights faded, died away, and darkness returned. The Yilanè had learned after the massacre on the beaches. They would not be attacked at night again.

When Kerrick and Herilak reached the sammads the darts and hèsotsan that had been retrieved from the battle had been loaded onto the travois; the retreat began once again. Herilak spoke to the sammadars as they walked.

Four hunters had not returned from the battle in the forest.

They went slowly, far too slowly to escape the attack that would surely come in the morning. They were all weary after two nights of traveling with little sleep. The mastodons screamed in protest when they were goaded on. Yet still the sammads stumbled forward, for they had very little choice. If they stayed, they died.

The ground was rough, rocky, and uphill most of the way. Their progress became slower and slower and well before dawn it ground to a halt. Sorli brought the message to Herilak.

“It is the beasts. They will not go on, even when we push spears into them.”

“Then we stop here,” Herilak said with great weariness. “Rest and sleep. We will go on again at sunrise to the next position.”

A chill wind came up at dawn and they shivered as they rose wearily from their sleeping furs. They were dispirited and still exhausted. Only knowledge of the sure advance of the enemy drove them forward once again. Armun walked at Kerrick’s side in silence. There was very little that could be said now. It was enough to put one foot in front of the other, to prod on the protesting mastodons.

A hunter stood beside the trail, leaning on his spear, waiting for Kerrick to come up to him.

“It is the sacripex,” he said. “It is his wish that you join him where he leads.”

With great effort, ignoring the throbbing pain in his leg, Kerrick broke into a shuffling run that took him up the column, past the travois and marching sammads. The small children were walking now, the babies being carried by the mothers and older children. Even partially relieved of their loads the mastodons still stumbled with fatigue. They would not keep going much longer.

Herilak pointed at the hills ahead when Kerrick came shuffling up to join him.

“They have found a wooded ridge up there,” he said. “Very much like the one we stopped them in yesterday.”