The first thing Alon saw was the smoke, thin wisps of gray rising from small dying bonfires scattered randomly around the edges of the sitio. He shivered as he navigated the strange maze, then wondered if it was because of the morning cold or the eerie silence that surrounded him. He looked back the way he came, all mountain and brush, his guide long gone after giving him a few sparse instructions on how to reach the place he was looking for.
No village should be this quiet. Not at six in the morning. It should have been filled with sounds of labor, of conversation, of domestic animals. But even the birds were silent. A man stood beside the bonfire nearest the sitio entrance. He seemed to be waiting for him, but making no effort to move beyond that border. Alon reached him, introduced hi
