Chapter 16

- Noker -

"We should kill them all," the grim voice says. "They're in our way."

"The Foundlings?" asks the voice I think I know. "How are they in the way? I haven't even seen them out here in the woods."

I raise my head to see them more closely. The bush I'm hiding behind is really too small, forcing me to lie down on the ground.

I know there are five of them, and I have been following them all night and most of the day because I think I recognize one of the voices. But I don't dare get into view. They all have swords, and I don't. While I could probably outrun them, I don't want them to know I'm here at all. And accidents happen. Running men can trip over roots or run into nests of predators. I've done both myself, and I have the scars to show for it.

"I'm sure we passed right by the Foundling camp last night," says the first. "I could smell the smoke from their fires. It must have been close. They're in our way because they hunt and harvest outside the tribe turfs, which is where we would also do it. Often we return from hunts empty-handed! But if we got rid of the Foundlings, there would be more for us. We wouldn't have to hunt on the turf of some tribe, making them angry and having them hunt us down. I've had enough of the Borok tribe and their friends, I tell you."

"Of course, what we could do," a third, smooth voice says with relish, "is take them captive. At least the boys. Then we would have nice, tender dinners for many days. Have you ever had young flesh? It's the tenderest thing you'll ever taste. Oh, just the thought makes my mouth water!"

The group goes silent, probably imagining it.

"If we do anything, it should be now," says the first man. "That half-irox is in the Borok tribe right now, and he's the main danger for us."

"That one with the silly head is also a problem," growls the second man with the familiar voice. "Believe me."

I look behind me, not wanting to be spotted by a predator while I'm lying here. I do have my spear, but I'm not here to fight anyone.

I've followed the outcasts all night and most of the day. They keep talking about things that concern me a great deal.

I want to know where the outcast camp is, and what they're planning. Especially now that we'll be moving our Foundling camp to a new place.

But I didn't know that what I heard would be this terrible. Some people say that the gangs of outcasts will eat men if they can, but I never believed it. Now I've heard it with my own ears.

"Where are the others?" the first voice says impatiently. "We should plan the attack."

"And find the camp," says the familiar voice. "I think that should come first. How can we plan if we don't know where it is?"

I let them talk while I slowly crawl backwards. I don't like what they said about meeting more outcasts here. I might get surprised by a new group of them.

But it's not them that surprises me. It's a Small, a black one with brown stripes on its hard shell, long antennas and twenty thin legs. It comes wandering and it must see me with one of its myriad of eyes, because it starts hissing viciously, antennas waving. It's only as big as a man lying down, so not big enough to be a real problem for me. If it hadn't been for that loud hissing.

"What's that?" an outcast says, and I hear swords being drawn.

I look around for a place to hide. There's only the bush, and beyond that are the outcasts.

The Small keeps hissing.

I clench my hand around my spear. It will be difficult to get away from this. But I have surprise at my side. At least I will take one of those men with me.