Chapter Seven
“Can there be a greater thrill than coming into a new land with the dawn at your back?” Conawago had once asked him as they had traversed the Endless Mountains to the north. “I feel like a young boy climbing his first tree!” the old man had explained. “I know the gods have not forgotten me, because they have granted me the freedom to glimpse anew their power and beauty.”
Duncan had indeed felt a thrill of discovery when he had first glimpsed the fertile rolling lands of the Conococheague Valley, adorned by pockets of mists glowing silver in the sunrise. But now the thrill was being rapidly replaced with foreboding. The rich hills below the Kittatinny Ridge were not heavily populated but the few settlers they encountered were uniformly cool, even openly suspicious of the two
