Something moved in the brush behind him. He turned, expecting the watch, but instead saw a small herd of deer moving through the trees off to the right.

Hunger looked about once more, then silently slipped into the cave.

The first chamber was where they kept livestock. It was wide, large enough to hold a dozen horses, but there were no horses, no goats, nothing but a large pile of hay by the stalls. He looked up the corridor that led to the second and third chambers. The far chamber was dark, but the flickering orange light of a fire spilled out of the door to the second chamber and played on the rock wall of the corridor.

Hunger went back to the entrance, took hold of the large squarish covering stone, and pushed it back into place, closing off any escape.

“Who’s there?” A voice from the second chamber.

Hunger walked through the first chamber and to the entrance of the second.

Ke, Zu Hogan’s son, stood above a small fire over which he roasted three rabbits. He held a knife in one hand, staff in the other. Hunger, as Larther, had been clouted by that staff more than once in weapon’s practice. Ke was powerful and fast. Deadly.

“Who are you?”

Hunger could not answer. He simply stepped into the small light.

Surprise flashed across Ke’s features, but he just as quickly recovered and with blinding speed threw his knife.

It buried itself in Hunger’s eye. He did not expect the pain that shot through him. He thought he was beyond pain. Yet this did not debilitate him. It was strong, but dull, and he shrugged it off.

Ke took advantage of his hesitation and darted past him toward the mouth of the cave.

Ke was fast, but not as fast as River. Hunger ran after him. He caught him at the entrance by the shoulder and whipped him around.

Hunger expected Ke to try to free himself, but Ke grabbed Hunger by the neck and crotch instead. He lifted Hunger and cast him against the wall of the cave.

Ke was always the one to try something surprising. And it had always worked. But not this time.

Ke pushed the stone covering the entrance.

Hunger lunged forward and latched on to Ke with both hands. Then he swept Ke’s feet out from under him, dropping Ke like a stone.

Hunger landed atop Ke and knocked out his breath.

There is no escape, thought Hunger. Not for you, brother. Not for me.

Ke struggled mightily, but Hunger bound him as he had his sister, then he tied him up with a rope. He laid Ke in the third chamber where they kept the beans and water, then went back to the mouth of the cave and shoved the rock aside to open it for the others.

He looked about, considering the best place to hide. Then he looked up. Hunger climbed up the wall to the high, sloped ceiling above the mouth of the cave, up into the inky dark. And there he clung, waiting like a spider for the others to enter his trap.

Talen followed the Creek Widow to the bottom of a narrow valley between two steep and stony hills. Dawn had not yet broken, but the sky had lightened, and he could see the valley well enough. He’d been up now for twenty-four hours and was exhausted. The woods broke on a clearing that began by the brook and ran halfway up one of the hills.

“Here it is,” she said.

“Here?” asked Talen. Such a clearing couldn’t provide much protection. He thought she’d said it was a cave. But he could see none. “What do we do, hide under the bushes?”

“Yes, Talen,” she said. “That’s what the great minds of our Order came up with. Hide under the bushes.” She shook her head and led him through the waist-high brush to the steep and stony base of the hill.

Talen thought that maybe they’d dug some cellar in the valley floor, then the Creek Widow turned a corner around a tall seam of stone running dozens of yards up the hill and disappeared.

“Goh,” he said. He arrived at the place where she vanished and found a jagged cleft in the seam of stone. Before him stood the mouth to a cave, a wan light glowing inside.

“Bring the Tailor in here,” said the Creek Widow from inside.

The mouth was barely wide enough for the horse, but it was not tall enough to allow a mounted man to pass through. Sugar untied Legs and helped him down. Then the three of them entered.

This first chamber stretched perhaps two dozen feet wide. He looked up into the blackness but could not see the ceiling. A light came from a chamber down a short corridor.

“Can you see this in full daylight?” he asked.

“Not unless you’re right upon it,” she said. She pointed at a large stone behind him. “And that’s only when the stone is removed. Replace the stone and this cave doesn’t exist.”

Something popped. It sounded like green wood in a fire. “Hello?” he said, hoping to hear Ke’s voice. But there was no reply.

“You’ll find this a comfortable place,” said the Creek Widow. “There’s no vermin that gets in here. No rats. And there’s a spot where the water drips clear and cold.”

Around the corner from the mouth lay some horse stalls and a crib of hay. The Creek Widow held an armful of hay and put it at the head of one stall. “Bring him over here. I’ll rub him down. You three go see who’s here. And get a place to rest while you can.”

“Where do you keep the food stores?” asked Sugar.

“I’ll worry about that,” said the Creek Widow.

Talen was more than happy to oblige. He walked to the lit chamber, but found no one, just a fire burning low in a hearth. Sugar and Legs joined him. He wondered where the smoke from this fire went. There must be a hole somewhere up above. But if no vermin could get in, that mean they had to have a cap for it. If not, this refuge wasn’t bottled up as tight as the Creek Widow would like to think. Three rabbits stretched out on forks above the fire. The meat wasn’t burned, but it was getting close. To the side he saw Ke’s pack.

“It’s Ke,” Talen called out for the Creek Widow. Then he squatted by the rabbits. “Looks like we’ve got us a snack.”

Knowing that Ke was here sent a surge of relief though him. He did not know until then how helpless he had felt. He put down his bow and removed the quiver of arrows he’d strapped to his waist. Then he squatted close to the fire, and with his knife, skewered one of the carcasses and removed it from the cooking fork. He peeled off a tender piece of loin and stuck it in his mouth. “Not too dry yet.” He turned to Sugar and and held the roasted carcass to her.

Legs sniffed. “That had better not be rat.”

The Creek Widow cursed. At least, that’s what he thought it sounded like. The Tailor had probably pooped on her feet. He smiled to himself thinking of that. Old Lady Brown Toe. He’d give her a ribbing about that.

“Oh, it’s rat,” said Talen. “Nice and plump. You get the tail.”

“Don’t believe him,” said Sugar and twisted off a piece of meat for her brother.

Talen fed the fire and ate his share of the meat. Nobody said anything while they ate. But when he’d finished, he said, “Where do you think the Widow’s gone? It doesn’t take that long to put away a horse.”

“Maybe she went to the privy,” said Legs.

“Probably,” said Talen. “And while she’s away, I’m going to see what else they have here to eat.” He could barely muster enough strength to fight his fatigue, but he stood. At one end of this chamber stood a table and some shelves. He grabbed an oil lamp from the shelf and lit it. Then he walked out into the corridor.

“Aunt?” he said.

The flame guttered in a breeze that he hadn’t noticed before. The Creek Widow did not reply, so he headed farther into the cave. The corridor sloped upwards. The flickering lamp cast odd shadows on the wall. Maybe two dozen yards farther he came to what had to be the third chamber. He held the lamp high and saw barrels of food. But it was all grains and dry stuffs, including rope, arrows, and cord.