Common Clay

By the time Clay reached home, he was the proud new owner of eighteen wooden arrows and twelve broadhead shafts. He figured it would be enough for what he had planned over the next few weeks; if not, he was probably going to have worse problems than simple arrows.

He found his father waiting for him on the front step. Sam waved to him, and Clay waved back in surprise. When he got close, Sam stood up and came across the field to meet him. “Nice work on the field! It still looks a little rough, but you might have enough room to not starve this winter.”

“That’s comforting.” Clay gave him a grin, and then gestured to the partially plowed field. “I was thinking beets, maybe. At least to start out with. What do you think, [Farmer]?”

Sam grinned and then turned to look back at the field. “Beets should do well here. You might need to plant a bit more than I would, but you’ll have enough if you keep up this pace.”

Clay nodded. As a [Farmer], his father had an inherent advantage when it came to convincing plants to grow. He had no doubt that more of his crop would die the first year than had ever gone bad on Sam’s farm. “I’ll be sure to get as much space for it as possible, then.”

“I’m sure you will.” Sam’s smile faded a little. He glanced back at Clay and then looked back over the field. He folded his arms and rocked back on his heels a little. “You should be able to make it just fine if you keep focused. Just work steadily on it, and everything will be fine.”

There was an odd note to his words that put Clay immediately on alert. He tried to peer at his father without being too obvious about his concern. “Yeah. I’ll be sure to keep at it.”

An uncomfortable silence fell as both of them looked over the field. Clay felt his own fears rise as it went on. Had his father heard about the rumors from the baron’s men? Did he suspect what Clay had been doing the past few weeks? What would he say if he did? Would he be proud? Angry? Would he forbid him from continuing? Would his mother know?

The moment passed. Sam looked back at him with a smile. “Well? Will and the others helped me get a little ahead on our own place. Would you like some help out here?”

The offer caught Clay almost completely off balance, not least because the chores on a farm were never completely done. His father must have been worried about things, and there was no way he was going to turn it down. Not with the way the fields were looking. He smiled. “Sure! A real [Farmer] showing me how it’s done? How could I say no?”

Farm work consumed the rest of the day. Sam Evergreen had the kind of will to work that would have put any [Laborer] to shame. By the time everything was finished, they had plowed the field and cleared another solid section of weeds and thorns. Sam had even helped him pull a trio of stumps out of the ground.

In the end, Sam was grinning at the fields in personal satisfaction. “Not a bad job, if I say so myself.”

“Glad we did well.” Clay stretched a little, feeling something in his back pop. How did he have a higher [Might] and [Fortitude], but still felt more tired than his dad? “Thanks for the help. I’ll let you know when I am ready to start planting.”

“I look forward to it.” Sam looked closely at him, his expression suddenly serious. “I’m here to help, son. With whatever you need. All right?”

“Thanks, Dad.” He shook Sam’s hand, and then his father turned away, heading along the road to his own farm. Clay watched him go for a while and then headed into the house. He still had the [Chants] to practice, and a busy day tomorrow.

The next few days became a new pattern, one that felt both comforting and frustrating.

Clay spent his mornings expanding the amount of fields he had plowed, and cutting down still more of the sablethorn infesting the rest of the fields. His only break from it was a quick hunting trip in the Smallgroves, which netted him the occasional bit of meat for his meals.

Once he had finished with his midday meal, he made his way through the Tanglewood to Scout’s Hill. There, he spent some time studying the movements of the monsters in the valley below. Day by day, his map of the area around the Lair grew more and more detailed. It quickly got to the point where he could picture the place easily, complete with the route that the elder troll spiders followed as they drifted around the forest.

There was a pattern to it; the manual had claimed they patrolled the Lair, and so far, it was correct.

What the manual had missed was the fact that the elder trolls didn’t need wind to fly. He saw them leap into the sky, their sheets of webbing prepared as they flew far higher than anything that size could. Yet they still managed it, their too-long legs trailing below them as they launched themselves into the sky. Then they let their sheet catch the wind, hanging below them like a seed pod from a tree of nightmares. They seemed to be able to direct their flight as well, gliding wherever they wanted, regardless of the wind.

Of the elder mantraps, he saw no sign. He wondered if they were simply more stationary, waiting beneath the webs that shrouded the area around the Lair. If so, he’d need to get closer to deal with them, but that would be dangerous so long as the elder troll spiders were patrolling the air above.

So, to get any closer, he needed to take down the airborne threat first.

In the meantime, he observed the area each day, and then descended into the valley to strike at the nests and perches. He cleared them out, one at a time, and left the corpses to decorate the ground. His makeshift poisoned javelins made for a more and more effective weapon against the adult troll spiders, and the mantrap spiders supplied him with everything he needed.

As time went on, he grew more and more used to dealing with the monsters in groups. The way they moved, the way they cooperated; it all seemed to grow clearer with each attack. At the same time, he wasn’t growing at all. He received no Soul for any of those kills, and as used to killing them as he was getting, he wouldn’t get any more strength than he already had.

Each evening he made his way back home and settled in to study the [Chants] again. Truthfully, the increase in [Memory] was one of the few things that showed progress over those days.

At least that was the case until he staggered through the pronunciation of the [Chant] of Heart’s Light and saw a glow blooming from his fingertips.

“Say it again.”

Clay complied, and the light appeared again. Olivia’s eyes locked onto that glow as if it was the only thing that mattered in the world. When Clay relaxed his focus, the light faded, but she still stared at where it had been.

Eventually, Olivia turned her attention back to him. “How strong is your [Memory]?”

“Sixteen.” Clay let his hand fall. Her brow furrowed, and he shrugged. “Not all of them work. I think [Commoners] have always been performing some of them. The Rector is one, isn’t he?”

She nodded slowly. “The Choosing. You think that is a [Chant] as well?”

“Once I practiced enough, I started to recognize some of the words he was muttering during the ceremony. There are probably a few others in there as well.” Clay pushed himself away from the wall. “I’ve only been able to make three of those work, though. The rest must need a higher amount of [Memory]. I’ll keep working at it until they are within reach.”

Olivia nodded again. “Thank you. The more we know…”

Her words faded away, and she began staring at something he couldn’t see again. Clay smiled a little. He tapped the table, and her attention came back to him again. “Were you able to find anything about Lairs? How they form, how we can destroy them?”

“Yes. Yes, I found—some things.” Olivia took out a bundle of parchment, all covered in her familiar writing. She seemed to have trouble focusing on the pages, however. “A Lair is normally formed by unusual circumstances. A ritual spell gone wrong, an ancient atrocity, sometimes due to magical experimentation.”

Clay folded his arms. “So they don’t just come from nowhere.”

“No. In fact, the most usual place to find one is in some musty old cave used by an outlaw [Mage] or [Occultist], or a Wizard’s Tower.”

He blinked. “A Wizard’s Tower? Those are real?”

“Oh yes. The adventurer’s manual talked about them frequently.” She traced her finger along a line on one page. “’To find a Wizard is to find a seed of corruption. To find their Towers is to find a future Lair of evil.’ That sort of thing.”

Clay remembered the tower at the center of the valley. It had seemed so plain; surely a Wizard’s Tower would be something grander than that? “So if they happen by accident, how do we destroy one? Do we have to kill every single monster it spawns?”

“No. That’s usually not possible.” Olivia shook her head. “If enough monsters die, the Curse that created the Lair may simply change tactics, or spend some of its power to spawn even more. Sometimes it may even go dormant, hiding until the danger is past and then returning when it feels the land is vulnerable again.”

None of those sounded like desirable situations. “So, how do we kill it? Is it even possible?”

“It is, but it requires a particular spell.” She turned to a new page in her stack. “’And Ulron son of Ull cast the Curse back to whence it came with words of power and light.’ It sounds as if there may be a specific [Chant] that is required to finish destroying a Lair.”

Clay looked back at the stack of spells with sudden interest. “Which one is it?”

“I don’t know.” Olivia met his irritated look with a neutral expression. “The references that the manual and the other stories have are all vague, and all refer to higher-level adventurers. Junior members of their parties weren’t expected to have access to it. The manual states that a novice adventurer ‘ought wait on the wisdom of their elders to challenge such Curses, and only at such times determined’ should they even approach one.”

“Okay.” That idea was unpleasant. There had to be something he could do—although if he had to, he would settle for sending the thing to sleep for a few years, at least until Charles and Enessa came back as official adventurers to end it. At the very least, he had no intention of just letting things get worse in the meantime. He’d keep them back beyond Scout’s Hill, and if he could find the [Chant], then he would put a stop to things himself.

Olivia’s hand touched his arm, and he jerked in surprise. She was staring at him closely, her expression almost…worried. “There is something else. Every Curse is said to have guardians of some kind, a ‘great creature of fear and sin, of which all adventurers despair to face’. Someone who isn’t ready for it might not survive the encounter.”

Clay sighed in frustration. He didn’t know what that meant, but the look of the elder troll spiders already gave him plenty of despair already. “I know. I’ll be careful.”

Her hand tightened on his arm. “No, you don’t. These are monsters that can kill entire parties of adventurers. They are the generals of the Curse that formed them. If you get too close…” She shuddered.

He looked away, his face suddenly feeling warm. “I’m trying to be careful, Olivia. I won’t go diving in without help. Okay?”

“I’m glad to hear it.” She drew back a pace. Her own face seemed a bit red again, though he didn’t know why. “I can aid you however I can, but I cannot help you if you do not listen. Nor can I help if you are killed. Beware the guardians and beware the minions they might send after you if you get too close to the Lair.”

Clay laughed. “What can they do to me? After all, I have mastered magic now!” He extended his hand and muttered the [Chant] again. Light bloomed in his palm.

Olivia glanced at him and then raised an eyebrow at him. “Amusing.” Despite her cool response, he thought he saw a twitch of her lips as she turned away. It might have been the beginning of a smile.

Somehow that made every night of studying the things worth it.

Three days after Olivia’s visit, Clay made his first attempt to kill an elder spider.

He’d gained more [Memory] since that time, bringing him up to eighteen. That had given him a few more [Chants], but the majority remained out of his grasp. He didn’t mind, however; his plan rested more on other methods, and on his knowledge of the monsters’ habits.

The past week of work had killed dozens of adult spiders, clearing a significant amount of them from the space around the Lair. When he set out that day, he did so with every weapon at his disposal. He carried both quivers of arrows, his bow, and his axe, sling, and spear as well. If it was possible for him to kill this thing, it would be done.

Clay paused on top of Scout’s Hill for an hour, watching the elders patrol the skies. He’d marked the one he wanted to hunt today already. It was the one that swept the closest to his home, and the one he’d had to hide from the most as he slaughtered its lesser brethren. Killing it would be a good first step to clearing the path to the Lair itself.

It helped that the proximity meant it was also the one he’d watched the most. He’d seen where it leapt into the air, where it turned along its patrol, and the ways it adapted to gusts of wind, and the times it changed course. Clay was confident that he’d have a good chance at killing it.

That confidence wavered a little as he made his way close to the thing’s territory. The prospect of ducking under the shadow of the massive creature was…unpleasant. He’d seen some of the wrapped corpses left behind in the perches of the lesser troll spiders; he had no ambition to join whatever was left behind in this monster’s home.

Clay saw a shadow sweep by overhead and paused, freezing in place beneath the leaves of a large cottonwood. The monster above him apparently failed to catch sight of him, because it continued on past without incident. He let out a quiet gasp of relief and then made his way up into the branches of the tree. If the spider stuck to the pattern, it would be a few more minutes before it came back. He’d need to be ready.

By the time he saw the thing gliding back towards him, Clay was standing comfortably in the branches of the tree. He’d noticed that the elders disliked the trees with more fragile branches when they hunted; whenever they struck, they tended to dive onto trees with stronger limbs. Perhaps those were the ones that could bear their weight. Either way, it would hopefully make the thing hesitate for at least a moment.

He watched it come, his heart beating hard against his chest. It looked gigantic; each leg seemed like it could have been a sharpened battering ram, capable of slamming straight through him. The eyes were gigantic; even this far away, he could see them glistening in the sun. Fear hammered at him as he imagined that creature falling from the sky towards him, its fangs ready to strike and its limbs outstretched…

Clay set his teeth and willed his hands to stop shaking. It was a monster, just like any of the others. If he wanted his home to be safe, he needed to kill this thing; not just it, but everything like it in the Tanglewood. Everyone was counting on him.

So when it drew close, still bobbing obscenely through the air on its sheet of spidersilk, he drew his bowstring back to his ear, sighted on one of its terrible eyes, and loosed.

The wooden arrow flew high into the air, slashing in at the monster as it passed. Its fragile tip had been stained black with poison that he’d taken from adult mantrap spiders; he didn’t know if it was more potent, but he hoped it would be. It was too late to reconsider as the arrow rose, so instead, he pulled another from his quiver and nocked it. He was already drawing it to fire when the first shot hit.

He had loosed it, sending the shaft up after the monster as it passed overhead, when he heard the scream.

The noise was unlike anything he’d ever heard before. It sounded like the end of the world, full of hatred, anger, and despair. It froze his fingers on his bow, paralyzed him even as he moved to bring out the next arrow. In that screech, he saw the end of his entire life, the fate of being killed and eaten, piece by piece, as the thing delighted in his suffering.

Then Clay snarled and set his next arrow to the bowstring. The thing might take him, sure, but he wasn’t going to sit around and wait for it. If it wanted him, it would need to work for it.

He took aim as it swerved around in midair, its scream still echoing over the valley. Clay waited until the thing leveled out, and then sent the arrow on its way. Then he ignored the urge to see if it hit before he plunged down towards the ground, slipping down the cord he’d wrapped around the branch.

It was a close thing. Something tore through the air over his head, slapping into another branch on the tree. When he glanced up, he was startled to see a near-invisible stream of webbing, one that would have caught him in the torso. He imagined being yanked up into the air and slid down the cord a little faster.

He hit the ground a little hard, but it was worth having his feet in the dirt. The boar spear was waiting for him; he dropped the bow and grabbed it, bracing himself with his back against the tree trunk. His heart was still beating hard, and his breath was harsh in his ears.

The elder spider landed a moment later, its weight causing the trees to groan. Clay had a single flash of warning before a spiked leg the length of a tree trunk flashed down to try to stab him. He shifted to the side and swung his spear at it. The leg withdrew too quickly for him to hit it, and he ducked aside just in time to miss another shot of webbing that could have enveloped his head.

Pivoting around the trunk of a tree, he dodged another pair of leg strikes. He heard that terrible scream again, and he tried not to freeze as the monster shifted. Branches snapped; leaves and twigs rained down around him as it scrambled through the canopy, trying to readjust to strike at him again.

Clay didn’t give it the opening it was looking for. He kept moving to put the trunk between him and the bulk of the monster. When it tried to use its legs to spike him, he fended it off with the spear. Enraged screams tore the air again and again as it darted back and forth, its hideous form half-concealed by the branches above.

Was the poison working? Clay couldn’t tell; all he knew was that this tactic wasn’t going to work forever. So far, it had avoided testing the strength of the tree branches above him, but that wouldn’t last forever. He heard the spinner spit again, and he jerked his foot out of the way; a glimmering tendril of web caught the ground where he’d been standing. At some point, the thing was just going to get lucky.

A branch snapped in half, and a spider leg crashed down to spike the ground a few paces away. Clay’s heart caught in his throat; was it a chance? He lunged, bringing his spear around in a sweeping blow. It was the kind of hit that would have split an adult mantrap’s armor, or could have sent an adult troll spider hurtling through the air.

It rebounded from the elder troll spider’s leg, leaving a partially collapsed section of armor. Clay had half an instant to stare at it in horror, and then the spinner spat another burst of web that he barely avoided. The leg withdrew a moment later, and he had to dance aside as another nearly impaled him through the head.

For half a heartbeat, he debated returning to the cottonwood. He dodged away instead, heading for a smaller tree nearby. It was dead; there were no webs, but some illness had killed it some time ago. The bare branches hadn’t been touched yet, but at least he could see the situation clearly, and the troll spider wouldn’t find a good purchase there, either.

Behind him, he heard a chorus of snapping branches as the troll spider tried to leap above the cottonwood. Another spinner burst sped by; this time the monster had plain missed, likely due to a clumsy landing. Clay didn’t pause to congratulate himself, ducking back behind the dead tree now. The elder screamed once more, frustrated in its efforts yet again. He heard one leg stab straight into the trunk behind him; the wood cracked as it withdrew.

He clutched his spear tighter and tried to recover his breath during the short respite. His plan wasn’t looking good. The poison wasn’t doing anything, and he had been hoping that his spear could break the thing’s legs. Escape wasn’t going to work. It could fly, and even without it, he couldn’t count on a lucky branch snapping to keep it from yanking him skyward to eat.

The trees rustled and snapped to his right, and Clay pivoted left immediately. He got a half clear view of the monster, its repulsive bulk rising over the tree branches to his side. Its eyes were focused on him. At least two of his arrows were stuck in its body, which was curling to bring the spinners in the rear to bear—

Webbing spat out again, and he jerked away just in time for it to miss his arm. A portion of the dead tree tore away a moment later, and an iron-hard limb lashed out to scrabble at the wound it left. Clay shouted and cut down at it, watching helplessly as he crushed a bit of carapace and nothing else. He ducked and hesitated before rushing to the opposite side again, and another leg speared where he would have been a moment later. It left a foot-deep divot in the ground as it withdrew.

It screamed at him again, and he heard it readjusting on the branches behind his cover. What was it doing? He didn’t think it was shifting position again, but it couldn’t see him, right? The dead tree was tall enough for that, at least.

The answer came a moment later as the elder spider jumped, suddenly soaring over the dead tree completely. Clay froze, horrified at how far it was in the air. It shot a streamer of web off to the left and pulled, tugging itself into a spin. As it came back to face him, he saw malice and satisfaction in that terrible, many-eyed gaze.

Fear and desperation prompted him into action as the spinner came to bear again. Clay darted forward, running hard for the cover of tree branches. The web still caught him in the shoulder, but it didn’t instantly go taut. He saw it bringing its body back, trying to yank him up to where it could have him.

Instead of resisting, he ran harder forward. His forward motion put more slack in the line; when the pull came, it wasn’t as much of a devastating yank. Rather than soaring skyward, Clay was pulled hard in the same direction he was already running. His sprint became a tumble, but he still crashed safely beneath the nearest trees.

It dazed him for a moment, but instead of attacking him immediately, the spider screeched yet again. Clay felt a moment of confusion as the webbing suddenly went slack, but when he looked up, he saw that the cord had become tangled in the branches. The monster might not have been able to tug him without yanking itself off course, so it had cut him loose. There was still a chance to fight!

Determination filled him, and he staggered back to his feet, just in time to not be speared by another stabbing limb. He took a whack at it out of spite and grimaced as his spear bounced off yet again. Clay stepped back from the follow up strike coming from the other side and then ducked closer to sidestep another leg that came at him from above.

The last one buried itself deep enough in the ground that he struck at it again, taking a grim satisfaction from the audible crack his weapon made when it hit. Even if he lost, this thing was going to remember him.

He braced himself as the legs withdrew again, and he heard more thrashing in the branches. Dull realization echoed through his brain. It was going to jump again and take another shot at him that way. Could he repeat the run that had saved him? Even if he could, how many much longer could he keep that trick up?

The spider jumped, and this time, Clay focused on the thing as it drifted through the air. Yet again it pivoted, using a streamer to the side, and he grimaced as the spinner curled around to aim. His body tensed, and he waited for the wet report of it firing.

A stream of web cracked through the air, and he threw himself to the side. It passed so close to him that he almost thought he’d been hit, but he rolled free without feeling that terrible tug on his clothing. He came up in a crouch with his spear ready. His eyes were wild, but he felt a surge of triumph. The spider had missed!

Then the stream suddenly tightened, and his eyes widened. Clay saw the spider’s momentum change and its eight spear-tipped limbs come around, pointing at him.

He knew, without question, that he wouldn’t have enough time to dodge before those eight spear-tipped legs came plunging down. The thing was too fast, and it could react too quickly to any dodge he made. His tactics weren’t working; even if he got out of the way, it would only delay the inevitable.

So instead of dodging, Clay hurled his boar spear straight at the thing. It lanced up and struck the monster in the face as it descended, making it rear back in pain. He threw himself forward after the spear, dodging between the legs as they gouged the dirt and soil around him. One sharpened limb dug a deep furrow next to him as he scrambled up and under the elder spider, but he kept going. He still had his axe, but he’d need more than that to survive.

Clay heard the spider thrashing above him, turning to face him again. He had to get some distance again, put some space between him and the fangs…

He looked back and up, and saw the spider’s head pivot into view overhead. The monster had Clay’s spear standing out from between two bulbous eyes; it screamed again, ichor running down from the wound. It made as if to strike him—and then reared back.

Understanding dawned. The spear was in the way. It couldn’t bite him on the ground, which meant the only real threat was from the legs and the spinner. A glance behind him told him the spinner was pointed up at the sky; the rear two sets of legs braced against the tree, one of the front pairs was propped against the ground. Only the front two were free—and the thing couldn’t snap at him without pushing the spear deeper into its own skull.

Clay bared his teeth and darted back in under the monster. It stabbed at him with a leg, and he dodged to one side. Pulling out his axe, he ran for one of the bracing legs. The leg twitched a little to one side, as if the spider tried to lift it to stab at him. He smashed his axe into it once, twice, three times. Each hit caused a resounding crack. Clay had to lunge after it as the spider pulled it back and started to pivot again, trying to get the limb away from him.

Then the fourth hit struck near the joint, and there was a sudden snap as the limb hung loose. When it came down again, there was another snap, and the leg collapsed under itself. He dodged to one side as the spider staggered above him, struggling to reach for him as he ran for the next leg. Clay reached it just as the spider recovered, and he hacked away at it immediately, this time trying to focus on a single spot.

This time, it broke on the second swing, and it came down hard on the remaining two for that side. Clay changed course and ran for the opposite side, following one of the legs as the spider continued to spin and screech. The spinner was free now, but it couldn’t see him beneath it. He shouted in victorious fury as he closed in, his axe poised to strike.

He hit the thing right on a joint, and the cracked carapace made the leg stiffen and twitch. Once again, it tried to pull it back, but he jumped after it and brought the axe around again. It once again crumpled as the spider shrieked and spun. Clay let it maneuver and ran for the forelimb on the monster’s right side.

It was one of the two remaining intact limbs on that side, and it was bearing nearly a quarter of the thing’s weight. He ducked low as the spider made an aborted snap at his head and then dodged a stab from the left forelimb. Clay built up as much speed as he could, spotting the cracked armor from a previous hit. He smiled.

The axe dug into the forelimb like it was a tree trunk. It folded a moment later, snapping beneath the weight of the creature it supported. He kept moving, knowing that this time there wouldn’t be another limb to rescue it. This time it would stagger on its other broken legs, fail to keep itself up, and crash to the ground. If he could get out from under it…

He heard the thing come down behind him, crunching into the dirt with another cut-off scream. Spinning around, he saw the spider wallowing in the dirt, trying to stand back up on the four legs that still worked. A part of him recognized it would manage it eventually. Either that, or it would force itself up on the shattered stumps of its broken legs, just to get at him.

Clay skidded to a stop and then reversed his course. He brought his axe high and brought it down on the spider’s body, hacking away at the shoulder where one of its limbs joined. The axe bit deep, and the wound sprayed ichor through the air as he yanked it out again. He continued to hack into it, even as the spider screamed and tried to lash out at him. Ichor, dirt, and shattered branches sprayed in all directions as he tore into the thing.

The monster continued to thrash, somehow turning its face towards him. Eight eyes filled with hatred confronted him, and it snapped at him with fangs the length of his forearm. He backed up, ducking beneath the haft of his own spear, still lodged in its face.

Then Clay grabbed that handle and yanked the boar spear free. The spider snapped at him again, and he stabbed it in one of the bulbous eyes. He attacked again and again, trying to blind and break the monster. More ichor sprayed, but now, at least, he seemed to be out of reach. It screamed in his face, and he answered it with a shout of his own, yelling as he continued his assault. A leg struck at him, and he leaned back, hacking at the shoulder attached to it with the spear, and then returning to stab the head.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the monster stopped screaming. He didn’t stop attacking, stabbing again and again, until the thing finally went still.

{Elder Troll Spider slain! Soul increases by 60}

Exhausted, Clay continued to stab the corpse for a few moments longer, unwilling to even trust the [Gift]. When he finally accepted that the thing was dead, he lurched backward from the hideous thing, panting in a futile attempt to catch his breath.

Ichor and dirt covered him, and his muscles were aching from the effort the kill had cost him. Most of his attempts to prevent a direct fight had failed to do much more than anger the thing, and the only reason he was alive was because of a few fortunate accidents. How was he going to keep doing this?

As his dulled mind battled with the question, he suddenly realized that the screams of the elder spider might have summoned others. He had no intention of trying to fight another elder spider now, when he was exhausted and vulnerable. Clay needed to leave, and he needed to leave now.

Gritting his teeth, he moved back toward the half-ruined cottonwood tree where the fight had begun. He needed to recover his bow, and then he needed to get back across Scout’s Hill. The sooner he got there, the better.

Overhead, he heard strange calls on the wind. He froze for a moment, and then he started to run.