23 The StormWhen Duatha caught up with them, they had descended into a low valley, where the stream-bed was dried by the long summer drought and the stones which had been washed up in heaps here and there stood bare and polished, like so many skulls.
The hill slope was covered with brown grass, bare scrub, and spiked gorse. It was a place of sadness, where few creatures made their home.
Above them the clouds had built up, layer on dark layer, until the faint blue of the sky could no longer be seen. And beneath the battlemented ranks of clouds, a wind suddenly began to blow, chill and foreboding.
The first large drops of rain began to fall threateningly as Duatha drew alongside them. His face was flushed with emotion.
‘Why did you not wait for me, you two?’ he demanded, without gentlene
