grass and rub down Sam, looks like you near rode the poor guy to death.”
Jack caught a satisfied little smirk cross Marian’s face when she turned away from her big brother, but it quickly passed when she realized he was watching her. “What are you grinning at?” she muttered as she passed him.
“Nothing,” he answered, “nothing at all.”
Once the horses were all rubbed down, watered and given some grain, they were hobbled and allowed to graze on a small patch of grass in a depression near the overhang. The boys agreed to keep a cold camp that night to avoid the attention that a fire might bring, and shared out portions of hard biscuits and venison jerky.
Marian told Jack and Owen what had happened at the Campbells’. Mr. Campbell had been doubtful at first, suspecting Evan of trying to pull some kind of prank, but once convinced, he had sent his four boys out to scout the area, spread the alarm, and call the other farmers to rally at his place. Marian had then penned a quick note to her mom, left it with Mrs. Campbell and lit out as fast as she could to catch up with Owen.
“I was starting to get a little worried that I might have passed you somewhere along the way,” Marian said, “and might even be catching up with the gorn instead. Do you think that they’re near by?”
“I doubt it,” Owen answered, “at least not the main party. Judging by the tracks, I’d guess that they’re still almost half a day ahead of us. They’re pushing awfully hard to get somewhere in a hurry. I still haven’t figured out where they might be headed.
“There could be some stragglers around, though,” he continued, “or perhaps an ambush party to take care of anyone like us who might be following. We’d better keep a watch tonight just in case. Jack, do you want first or last?”
“Hey,” Marian interjected, “I can stand a watch too; my hearing and night vision is better than yours.”
Owen looked at her and considered, then said, “You look like you’re about to fall asleep already . . . you can take third watch,” he added, grudgingly. “Jack, do you want first or middle.”
“I can keep my eyes open for a while,” Jack answered, “you get some rest and I’ll wake you in a few hours.”
Jack, like Owen, had grown up on a farm bordering the Gray Hills. In their youth, they had explored widely together, hunting, fishing and looking for hidden places in the woods where they could imagine that no human had been before. The Gray Hills were lush and green to the west of South Corner, covered with ancient forests of hardwoods which were watered by the dozens of streams that originated from the snows high on the West Wall. In their explorations, the boys had found many hidden clearings, and some impressive rock walls where the streams rushed eagerly to the edge and threw themselves far over and down to land laughing in broad pools at the bottom.
Occasionally, Aaron would come out from the village to hunt and explore with Owen and Jack. It was in the morning of one of these expeditions when they were all about fifteen, Evan’s age, that the three intrepid explorers came across the clear imprint of the track of a great-cat in the soft mud of a small stream bank. The pad was wider than Jack’s hand, and almost as long.
The great-cats are the largest, most accomplished carnivores in the Gray Hills. They are tawny in color, with two black stripes that start above each eye, run down the sides of the neck and the length of the broad back to join at the base of the tail. Sleek but powerfully built, they grow to twice the weight of a man, and can take down a full-grown elk. For all of their size, a great-cat can move silently through the forest, seeming to hardly disturb a leaf in their passing.
The boys knew that the cats mostly avoided people, but there were occasional maulings. They were, after all, in the deep woods, the great-cat’s element, and judging by the water that was slowly oozing