"Now?"
"As soon as you are safe. Come."
Steam rose from the burned area, charred like a rocket launching pit. They stepped around it carefully. Stinson felt warm air, but there was no time, now, to warm cold feet or dwell on the vagaries of Sand Gods.
Together they crossed the narrow valley. Sybtl led him toward a tall mound of rock. Here they came to the creek again, which flowed into a small canyon. They climbed the canyon wall. Far away, small figures moved. The webfoots were on their trail.
She drew him into a small cave. It was heated, like the great cavern, but held no walled pool nor mysterious lighting. But it was warm, and the small entrance made an excellent vantage point for warding off attack.
"They will not find us...."
A high-pitched keening burst suddenly around them. Stinson knew they had heard, or felt the sound for some time, that now its frequency was in an audible range.
"The Sand God," Sybtl said. "Sometimes he plays among the clouds. He makes it rain in a dry summer, or sometimes warms the whole world for days at a time in winter, so the snow melts and the grass begins to green. Then he tires and lets winter come back again. He is the loneliest God in the universe."
"What makes you think he's lonely?"
She shrugged her shoulders. "I just know. But he's an angry God now. See those clouds piling in the East? Soon they will hide the sun. Then he will make them churn and boil, like river whirlpools in spring. At least he does this when he plays. Who knows what he will do when he's angry?"