On the afternoon before the full moon, George and the Pack secured their horses in a secluded valley between rocky hills where a narrow stream brought enough water to green the sparse grass and foliage.
“You’ll be fine here,” George said, patting her nervous mare on the flank. “The water is sweet, the grass is green, and I’ve set wards aplenty to keep you safe from coyotes of the four-footed and two-footed varieties.”
“Do you think she understands what you’re saying?” Dace asked as he hobbled his massive stallion near her mare.
“Perhaps not the words exactly,” George sighed, “but the intent of them, I’m certain.”
Dace had stayed near her during the ride to the caverns and shared some of his history with her. George was fascinated by the tales he and the others told her about ancient ti
