“When will the Lemurians return?”
His one-eyed gaze jerked her direction as though he were startled, but he didn't answer.
Nadika saw how hard he was concentrating just to keep pace with her brisk walk. At her age, she could run the ten miles to Negomba Grove before lunch without stopping. With his age and infirmity, they'd be hard-pressed to reach it by nightfall.
The question hadn't altered his pace but it had stopped his garrulous speech. During their peregrination, he'd divagated on any number of topics. His ramble was a comfort that she'd grown to like as a defense against the thick wood and the perils ensconced there, keeping the external and internal darkness at bay. Between Sacred Mountain and Negomba Grove, there were no sanctuaries.
But her question seemed to stump him.
They
