The Silver Gryphon

renegade mage and his followers, human or created.

Tad, however, was going to take the moment as it came; he shrugged out of his pack and nudged a fish over to her with one talon. “You eat,” he said. “There’s enough wood in here already to easily last the night. While you cook and eat that, I’ll go back out and see what I can see.”

She hesitated a moment, then gave a mental shrug and bent to pick up the fish. I might as well eat and make myself comfortable. He’s right about that. While the rain fell, it was unlikely that anything would try to find them. If the creatures trailing them were semi-intelligent, they would assume that the two castaways had followed their usual pattern, and had taken shelter before the rain started. The hunters would probably be looking for them on the other side of the river first, especially if the hunters had not traced them as far as the river when the rain began. Any trail would end short of the river itself, and the mud and rock of the riverbank would not hold any scent or footprint through the rain. The trail on the other side of the river would be completely obliterated, and if they could keep their fire out of sight, it was possible that they could keep their presence in this cave a secret for a day or more. By the time smoke got up the rock chimney and exited above them, it would be very difficult for anything scenting it to tell where it originated.

After that, of course, it would become increasingly harder to stay hidden. Every time they left the cave, which they would have to do to catch fish, wash, and get firewood, they stood a chance of being seen. Watchers on the other side of the river could spot them without being seen themselves.

But I’ll worry about that after I eat, when I can think better, she decided. It was wonderful to be able to have enough space to properly open the packs and spread everything out. Once again though, she found herself attempting a task one-handed that was difficult enough using two; scaling and gutting a fish. She wound up slipping off her boot and using a foot as a clumsy “hand” on the tail to hold it down.

She saved the head and the guts for later use as bait; they could not count on having the kind of luck that sent a harvest of fish down over the cliff to their feet every day. That was all right; they had fishing line and hooks with them, and if the fish guts didn’t work, she could try a bug, a bread-ball, or a bit of dried meat. Once again, her shovel came into play as an impromptu grill; it probably would have been better if she’d had something to grease it with, but at the moment, she was too hungry for trifles like that.

The fish burned a little and stuck to the shovel, but that didn’t matter in the least—she could scrape the fish meat off and eat, and some blackened fish meat stuck to it wouldn’t adversely affect the use of the shovel as a shovel. She was hungry enough, in fact, that she very nearly burned her fingers, picking flaky bits of meat off the hot carcass before it had properly cooled. She alternately swore softly and ate, making a happy pig of herself.

Tad reappeared, dripping wet again, and regarded her thoughtfully. “Clay,” he said. “Next time, wrap it up in clay and bake the whole thing. When you break the clay open, the skin comes off with it, but the rest of the fish is fine.”

“Where did you learn that one?” she asked, looking up at him in surprise.

“Mother. She loves fish, and even though she likes it best fresh, she’s been known to accept baked fish if it wasn’t straight out of the sea.” He gryph-grinned at her again, and cocked his head to one side. “You know how she is—unlike father, she’ll wish for the ideal, but not complain when it isn’t given! What do you want to do about the firelight? Move the fire back farther into the cave? The cave bends enough that I think that will make it harder to see from across the river. Or does it matter?”

So, he had been thinking about their stalkers. “I’m not sure it matters; sooner or later they’re going to see us, or see signs of where we are. I’d rather put some thought into defenses.”

“I’ve set up some simple line snares on the path, so watch out for them,” he said. “Not much, there’s not much I can do in the rain, but some. It should help, I would think. I can do better tomorrow.”

“So that’s why you’re wet!” She signed to him to sit beside the fire, as she devoured the cooked fish. It didn’t taste like much, a bit bland, which in itself made it an improvement over the dried meat, which tasted like old boots. It was hot and satisfying and cooked, which made all the difference, and she ate every scrap, using her knife to scrape the burned bits off the shovel and eat them too. Then she settled back on her heels, sucking her slightly-burnt fingers to get the last of the juices, and gave him all of her attention.

“Right, then. Let’s settle the short-term first, then the long-term. First watch?” she asked.

“Yours,” he said promptly. “As full as I am, I’m going to doze off no matter what. I can’t help it; it’s the way I’m built. And I have marginally better night-vision than you do. I also have better hearing,” he added, “but with that waterfall out there, that isn’t going to matter. I can run our fishing line from one of the snares into here, and stack some stones over the light pebble to make a sort of alarm.”

Well, that seems pretty reasonable to me. “Good enough. If I see anything tonight, should I take a shot at it? Across the river is in the range of my sling, and with all these rocks around I can afford to miss now, and we won’t have to go after my ammunition to get it back.” That was another source of easing tensions. Now she was no longer limited to the pouches of lead shot for ammunition. The rocks might not fly as true, but she could lob as many of them around as she needed to.

“My vote is that we not provoke anything tonight,” he said instantly. “Let’s not give them the answer to the question of where we went. If they can’t find us tonight, we might get lucky and they’ll go away.”

“Probably not, but it’s worth giving ourselves the chance. Agreed. Do we trap the other side of the river?” That was another good question. It might well be worth it to try—or it might make them targets when they crossed the river to check the traps. The river wasn’t all that deep even at its deepest; barely