Ram and the big red hunter took turns scaling the cleft walls for a look. Mouse said something about taking to the face of the Plain where they wouldn't be hemmed in. They looked at her grimly.
"The grey beasts are up there," they said. "Flanking us. If we go up, they'll only take us and chain us again."
Ciaran's heart took a big, staggering jump. "In other words, they're herding us. We're going the way they want us to, so they don't bother to round us up."
The hunter nodded professionally. "Is a good plan."
"Oh, fine!" snarled Ciaran. "What I want to know is, is there any way out?"
The hunter shrugged.
"I'm going on anyway," said Ram. "My wife and son...."
Ciaran thought about the Stone of Destiny, and was rather glad there was no decision to make.
They went on, at an easy jog trot. By bits and pieces Ciaran built up the picture—raiding gangs of Kalds coming quietly onto isolated border villages, combing the brush and the forest for stragglers. Where they took the humans, or why, nobody could guess.[1] froze to a dead stop. The others crouched behind him, instinctively holding their breath.
The hunter whispered, "People. Many of them." His flat palm made an emphatic move for quiet.