Chapter 38: Branches

"People speak of eyes watching from the rocks. Travelers come wandering into our village, eyes wild and brains wrought with madness. Sometimes, men disappear. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, darkness comes."

They numbered two dozen, sitting cross-legged on the ground before a long, bare table. The man who had met them in the hills-the one called Sif-was there with them. All had shaved heads and thick brambles of facial hair. Some beards were black, some streaked with silver, and some wiry and snow white.

Zechariah and Justin sat on the floor before them, imitating their cross-legged postures. Unlike the circular huts in the rest of the village, the Cru elders held court in a rectangular longhouse. All weapons had been left leaning against the doorway outside, a symbolic gesture of respect for the sanctity of this place. When Justin had tried asking Zechariah again why he needed to be here, Zechariah had told him to think of it as a learning experience.