CHAPTER EIGHT
The sun was barely a sliver of dimming yellow light on the horizon. The few clouds in the sky shone red in the waning light of day above the low, forested hills of the Red Island. If one were watching from the hills overlooking the east or west parts of the valley at this time, he would have seen a shadow slowly stretch over to the south, creeping slowly down into the valley over the vast patchwork of fields, orchards, and pastures. All that could be seen of the Aiakh River was a dark ribbon, glittering like a long snakelike diamond in the last rays of the sunlight, winding its way north up the valley and out through a tunnel under the hills.
One could see the campfires of the ruby and iron miners being lit on the hillsides. The familiar sounds of cattle, sheep, and goats b
