They fled to the Sycamore with the baying of the hounds snapping at their heels; they moved with a frantic desperation to erase any footprint or crushed leaf that might betray their camp. Once inside the hollow, Matáo and Jonah hauled the heavy deer carcass into the trunk to mask their own scent with the smell of raw blood. The group scrambled into the lower cavern, their breaths coming in shallow, jagged gasps, as Matáo pulled the barken door into place. The world outside dissolved into a nightmare of trotting hooves and shouting men.
“Search the timber!” a voice commanded, vibrating through the very roots of the tree. “The dogs are certain; someone is close.”
A hound began to scratch at the elm-bark door, its claws shrieking against the wood. Another joined it, their low, guttural growls filling the hollow as they began to tear at the entrance. Matáo retreated into the cavern, seeing the absolute terror reflected in the eyes of his siblings. He knelt beside them, his voice a hint of a whisper.
“It will be alright,” he lied, his voice crackling like a fire. “They will find the deer and assume it is a hunter’s cache; then they will leave.”
They sat in the suffocating dark, listening as the soldiers ripped the makeshift door from the tree. Two snarling beasts burst into the hollow, their muzzles dripping with the anticipation of the kill as they fell upon the deer carcass. Above, the Captain’s voice rang out with a cold, metallic authority.
“It is a hunter’s stash, Capt,” a soldier shouted over the din of the dogs.
“Drag the meat out and kindle a fire,” the Captain ordered. “We shall roast it while we scour the ridge. The man who finds the curs who slaughtered my scouts at the cliff shall have the first choice of the belly-meat. Find them!”
For hours, the group remained frozen in the blackness of the cave. Jessie reached for Joel in the gloom, her whisper barely audible. “I’m scared.” Joel could only nod, pulling her into a tight embrace as Jonah crawled over to shield them both. He spoke words of comfort that he did not truly believe; he prayed that the smell of the roasting venison would be enough to satisfy the invaders' curiosity.
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Eventually, the shouting drifted further away, replaced by the crackle of the fire and the occasional snort of a horse. Matáo, unable to endure the uncertainty, crawled back toward the upper hollow. It was a tight, agonizing squeeze through the stone, but he managed to peer through a crack. The scent of the roasting deer hit him: a cruel, savory smell that made his stomach knot.
“There is no sign of anyone here, Capt,” a voice muttered nearby.
“The hounds won't leave the trunk be,” the Captain replied, his suspicion unyielding.
“They are merely smelling the blood of the deer, sir; it means nothing.”
“If it means nothing, then crawl your hide inside and prove it,” the Captain snapped.
Matáo panicked; he scrambled back to the others, his movements frantic. “They are coming inside. We must get back, as far as the stone allows!”
They retreated to the rear wall of the cave, their backs pressing against the cold, damp limestone. They heard the soldier enter the tree above, his voice echoing down the hole. “I see nothing, Capt. It is a hole barely fit for a dog.”
“Find Skeet,” the Captain shouted from outside. “Bring him to me.”
A new voice entered the hollow, Skeet, a man of slighter frame. He was ordered to strip his armor and take a torch into the depths. A moment later, a flickering orange glow burst into the cavern as a lit torch was hurled through the opening. The smoke began to coil around the ceiling, stinging their eyes as a man slid down into the cave. He was tall and spindly, his face twisted into a crooked, predatory grin behind a scraggly beard.
“It’s just a brood of whelps, Capt!” Skeet hollered back through the hole. He drew a long, jagged knife from his belt, the torchlight dancing off the steel. “Shall I open their throats here, or bring them out to you?”
He stepped toward them, his eyes fixed on Nìa with a sickening intensity. “You are a pretty thing, aren't you, lassie?”
The group erupted in screams, lunging backward only to be halted by the unyielding stone of the rear wall. J?kob felt the cold finality of death pressing in on him; he squeezed his eyes shut, his hands flying to his face as he slid down the limestone. He wept in the dark, wishing with every fiber of his being that the wall would simply vanish; that the wall of stone would open and swallow them before the knife could reach Nìa.
As his weight hit the floor of the cave, the impossible happened. The solid stone behind them gave way with a silent, heavy groan; the wall vanished into nothingness, and the group fell backward into a void that had not existed a heartbeat before.
