Karl dropped his pack and ran after her, begging her to stop. But she ran on, heedless of obstacles. There was a sudden sharp wail of terror as she ran blindly off the edge of a cliff.
Sten met Karl carrying her crushed body back up the hill. Karl hugged the dead girl close to him and did not look at the other man.
That night, for the first time, they built a fire. Karl sat grief-stricken through most of the night staring into the flames. Kathryn sat leaning against Sten during the evening, fascinated by the flickering of the fire—the first she had ever seen.
At dawn Sten awoke and nudged Kathryn. A grey squirrel was scolding them from a limb above. He laughed at Kathryn's wide-eyed surprise at the antics of the little animal.
They rose without waking Karl, who was sleeping heavily in front of the burned-out fire, and walked down to the edge of the creek. A chipmunk scampered away in front of them and a blue-jay screeched from a near-by tree. A meadow-lark trilled its fine notes somewhere down the creek. They sat here at the edge of the creek-bank and leaned back on the grass.
Kathryn stared to the west where a line of white clouds were playing along the horizon. "You know something, Sten? I don't notice the silence so much anymore, and the distance doesn't worry me now, either. I guess maybe there's something here after all."
Sten pulled her close and smelled the good smell of green grass beneath them.
The next afternoon they had nearly reached the top of the pass. They were just below timber-line. Finally, looking to the east, they saw a great empty space, with a tall mountain range rising jagged on the other side.
"That's it," Sten exulted. "Fifty miles wide, and in the top of the mountains."
"I'm glad," Karl said. "But you're on your own now, Sten. I'm going back."