Travellers #2 Read Online Free Page A

pups lay nearby. Dark shapes on the flat by the river, the animals grazed outside the light. I could hear them nibbling, wrenching the grass. Now and again the dogs trotted into the dark, returned, lay, stood, and looked into the dark again. Something was making them uneasy. I looked, too, but saw only darkness. My fingers found the green stone fish at my neck, touched it for luck. Once again, I envied the dogs their ears, noses. They knew of so much before it happened.

Chapter 4
A Bellow in the Night
    The fire a mound of sluggish jewels. Het and her pups a sprawled heap against its glow. The animals leave off grazing, move in, stand scared on the edge of the little light. I hear their breathing, feel their stare.
    Slip the knife from its sheath. Turn on one side. Wriggle backwards into the darkness. Still no warning from the dogs, just their unease. They are circling the animals, ready to protect them, but from what? Has Squint-face followed us despite the burning mountain? Nonsense! Nobody could force their way through that choked air.
    Across the damp grass I slither between two donkeys, old Hika and his mate, Bok. They like to travel together, side by side. If one has to go ahead, it is always Bok. At night they stand or lie side by side, head to tail. They sway and let me between, my eyes scouring the gloom for movement, for something darker than the night itself.
    I creep around the circle of dogs who stand looking outwards. Holding their heads up against my touch, they neither sniff nor press their muzzles against my hand. They know something is out there.
    Awful, the enormous bray smashes through my head. Deep, shaking, a brutish roar. I run calling the terrified animals, trying to hold them, hearing their grunts and screams, the dogs’ howls. So long as the bellow continues, they run, and I run, too.
    A magnified gasp, and the earth-shaking roar cuts off without dwindle. Still holding the green stone fish, I stop, too. “Jak! Jess!” Relieved of the bellow, I know who I am again. Hackles up, the dogs rush back ahead of me, bristlingstiff-legged where our camp had been. I trip over a stack of gear, hear the metal graunch and know the tools are safe, but our tent has disappeared.
    It took much of the night, rounding up the animals. Jess found the last goats up to their knees in the river, shivering. They crowded around as I stirred the embers, got the fire going again, and called their names. I dragged in more wood, kept the flames high. The rest of the night, the animals were tense. I had to go round them again and again, rubbing rough coats, fleeces, scratching heads, patting necks. They were afraid, and so was I. What monster had such a roar?
    When the light came up, I was cold down one side. Het and her pups lay against my other side. We had burned all the wood. Little heat came off the grey ashes.
    I might have loaded the donkeys and escaped that place, but somebody had stolen our tent, and two of the basket-work panniers full of woven blankets, clothes, tunics, trading goods, the same stuff I had taken to swap with the Metal People. Why should we lose the tent Hagar and I had made? A good tent woven tight to shed rain. I would not be pushed any further. We had lost Tara, Dinny, and the boys, as well as the Hawk Cliffs. Instead of rounding up the animals, loading the donkeys, and fleeing, I looked in the mist for tracks.
    Jess found them pugged in a marshy spot, large, split-hoofed. I squatted, ran my finger around them, knew now there was nothing to be afraid of, no ghost. I wished I could tell the animals that. Instead I grazed them beside the river all day and, late in the afternoon, drove them into a cliff-walled gully and waited for the dark. I had led the dogs back and forth over the tracks, accustoming them to the scent. They should be all right, even if the other animals were scared again.
    The bellow when it came was just as loud, but I was not afraid, and the animals felt that. I shouted back, loud