Maybe it was a bunch of Kalis, the voice in her head quipped.
Maybe it was a bunch of KalisSyrina pressed her lips together, but she couldn’t tell if it was serious or not, and she didn’t respond.
* * *
Sometime before dawn a day later, a commotion in the camp stirred Syrina from her meditation. She opened her eyes to see white-blue naphtha light shining from the mouth of the tunnel. The whistling, clicking voices of the karakh echoed from somewhere within, and a moment later, the big white one squeezed out of the grotto with a chatter of disgust. Mann perched behind the shepherd, hanging in his harness, limp with exhaustion.
Syrina flitted down to the camp again to listen as the other karakh descended.
“… all there was, General?” Asked the man named Heine, whom Mann had left in charg
