"Perhaps they will not go away."
Neju thought about this. "The Old Gods came from the sky," he said. "The Old Gods went away." He looked around him at the circle of taut, angry faces. "I do not like to give up our home ground," he said slowly. He shrugged helplessly. "With two demons, one to watch while the other sleeps, how can we steal near enough to destroy them?" He looked at the mashed grass shoot. "The earth is kind. We can live and be happy in some new place."
A hunter slipped out of the brush near Neju, scarcely rustling it. Neju turned his head and the hunter bent and whispered in his ear. Neju looked suddenly concerned and frightened. He stood up, motioning for the others to keep their seats. He turned and followed the hunter into the forest.
They threaded their way toward what was left of their village. Near the edge of the natural clearing, the hunter hissed and began to advance cautiously.
When they both stood looking out from behind a clump of clato, Neju saw a group of the god-men in the middle of the wrecked village; the god-men were poking around idly, kicking rubble, fingering this and that. They talked. Their voices were, to Neju, slow, low pitched, lazy. Neju held his breath, watching.
Finally one of the god-men, seemingly the leader, started toward the very spot where they were standing.
Neju and his companions drew back hastily, and their movements rustled a dew heavy bush, causing it to shower a spray of water on the dead leaves of the ground.
Almost immediately, there was the deadly hiss of the leader's weapon, and a projectile thudded into a tree, just to the left of Neju.
"I saw two of them! Over here!" the leader called, running heavily toward the forest. The other god-men galvanized into action.