Chapter 23
While the phrase has been overused to the point of being trite, at best, it was quiet all of last night: too quiet. This morning as well. To some, I suppose that the sudden cessation of ambushes and assaults would be seen as a good thing. For me, they were making me terribly suspicious. Given that not hardly a day or night has passed without our having had to meet some ghastly horror, usually the smaller squamous slayers, and occasionally one of the four-legged running beasts of the plains, which look something like a sharp-toothed horse with large, dark eyes that dominate their angular faces, having that suddenly change left a feeling of incompletion, of something absent that ought to be there, like a phantom limb. This trend wasn’t unique to last night, either: we’ve
