Ha’ven had frozen behind Crom when the first shrieks had echoed through the thick forests over the sound of fighting and confusion in front and to the side of them as the other Monikers engaged the Marastin Dow tactical team.
“The cave,” Crom had growled out in rage. “They are being attacked!”
Ha’ven had turned even as the huge Moniker was conveying what the sounds meant. He ran along the branches, grabbing the huge vines and swinging from limb to limb. Crom followed closely beside him.
The two of them raced toward the river. They had burst out of the forest at the same time. A female Moniker lay by the shore of the river, blood seeping from her ears. She looked up, pointing with a low groan. Three bodies lay broken by the entrance of the cave where they had fallen from the rocks above.
