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in which it was still encased. In that moment, things grew silent outside.
I waited ten seconds. Fifteen. Half a minute . . . Nothing now.
I wiped my palms on my trousers. I continued to listen. Finally, I advanced.
There was nothing immediately before the opening save a light fog, and as the peripheral lines of
sight opened there was still nothing to behold.
Another step . . . No.
Another. I was right at the threshold now. I leaned forward and darted a quick glance in either
direction.
Yes. There was something off to the left-dark, low, unmoving, half masked by the fog. Crouched?
Ready to spring at me?
Whatever it was, it did not stir and it kept total silence. I did the same. After a time, I noticed
another dark form of the same general outline beyond it-and possibly a third even farther away. None of
them showed any inclination to raise the sort of hell I had ' been listening to but minutes before.
I continued my vigil.
Several minutes must have passed before I stepped outside. Nothing was roused by my movement.
I took another step and waited. Then another.
Finally, moving slowly, I approached the first form. An ugly brute, covered with scales the color of
dried blood. A couple of hundred pounds' worth of creature, long and sinuous . . . Nasty teeth, too, I
noted, when I opened its mouth with the point of my weapon. I knew it was safe to do this, because its
head was almost completely severed from the rest of it. A very clean cut. A yellow-orange liquid still
flowed from the wound.
And I could see from where I stood that the other two forms were creatures of the same sort. In all
ways. They were dead, too. The second one I examined had been run through several times and was
missing one leg. The third had been hacked to pieces. All of them oozed, and they smelled faintly of
cloves.
I inspected the well-trampled area. Mixed in with that strange blood and the dew were what seemed
to be the partial impressions of a boot, human-scale. I sought farther and I came across one intact
footprint. It was pointed back in the direction from which I had come.
My pursuer? S, perhaps? The one who had called off the dogs? Coming to my aid?
I shook my head. I was tired of looking for sense where there wasn't any. I continued to search, but
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there were no more full tracks. I returned to the cleft then and picked up my blade's sheathe. I fitted the
weapon into it and hung it from my belt. I fastened it over my shoulders so that it hung down my back.
The hilt would protrude just above my backpack once I'd shouldered that item. I couldn't see how I
could jog with it at my side.
I ate some bread and the rest of the meat. Drank some water, too, and a mouthful of wine. I
resumed my journey.
I ran much of the next day - though "day" is something of a misnomer beneath unchanging stippled
skies, checkered skies, skies lit by perpetual pinwheels and fountains of light. I ran until I was tired, and I
rested and ate and ran some more. I rationed my food, for I'd a feeling I'd have to send far for more and
such an act places its own energy demands upon the body. I eschewed shortcuts, for flashy shadows
spanning hellruns also have their price and I did not want to be all whacked out when I arrived. I
checked behind me often. Usually, I saw nothing suspicious. Occasionally, though, I thought that I
glimpsed distant pursuit. Other explanations were possible, however; considering some of the tricks the
shadows can play.
I ran until I knew that.I was finally nearing my destination. There came no new disaster followed by
an order to turn back. I wondered fleetingly whether this was a -good sign, or if the worst were yet to
come. Either way, I knew that one more sleep and a little more journeying would put me where I wanted
to be. Add a little caution and a few precautions and there might even be reason for optimism.
I ran through a vast, forestlike stand of crystalline shapes. Whether they were truly living things or
represented some geological phenomenon; I did not know. They distorted perspectives and made shifting
difficult. However, I saw no signs of living things in that glossy, glassy place, which led me to consider
making my final campsite there.
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