The twin moons of Tansa rose high overhead. The hour was late. Most of the village was asleep, except for the two men charged with guarding the stranger.
“Are you sleeping?” asked the guard Mantika had heard called Jorg and who was now poking him with a stick he’d salvaged from the dying fire.
Mantika hissed at the big-bellied man and did his best to dodge each jab, and when Jorg finally tired of his game Mantika settled back against the hut post, smouldering with irritation and frustration.
Later, as the moons made their way across a bejewelled night sky, Mantika grew agitated. Daylight was approaching. He could sense it. His body was screaming at him to find shelter, either in the darkest depths of the jungle or a cave.
Steeling his nerves, he called to the second man, whom he’d hear
