“Good enough,” Alex said with a smile. Karga-ak often berated him, but the man was also aware that without Alex bringing the horses back the previous year, he wouldn’t have had anything to breed and trade for more.
The road to Denta-ah was not unfamiliar to Alex. He had made it on foot several times and it was much easier on horseback. The journey of several weeks was cut in half, though they did end up walking the horses over some of the steepest inclines.
Alex continually glanced at Senta-eh as they rode. He had wondered if things might be different between them, but there was no evidence of that. If she saw him looking at her, she did not comment.
Monda-ak simply did his own thing. He left the trail when he wanted, hunted when he pleased, and was always with them when they stopped.
The trip was pleasant, especially once they climbed over the mountains and could ride at an easy pace. Each night, they set up camp by a stream where the horses could drink. Alex would gather wood and build a fire while Senta-eh hunted for their dinner.
Their first milestone was when they turned a bend and saw the island village that had once been Stipa-ah. The village had been partially destroyed and fully enslaved by Douglas Winterborne. Alex did not know what he would see there—how quickly the buildings and paths might have deteriorated.
As they drew nearer, he saw that it had not deteriorated at all. Instead, it looked better than the last time he had seen it. There were two large men standing at the spot where the one path led to the island.
“Gunta,” Alex offered with a raised hand.
“Gunta,” one of the guards offered non-committally, one eye warily on Monda-ak.
“I am Manta-ak. This is Senta-eh.”
The guards looked at him, their expressions unchanged. Alex was interested in going in to the island village and seeing what improvements this new tribe had made, but an invitation was not forthcoming.
And then, a flash of insight.
It’s possible there are almost no warriors here. They post two men as an early warning system, but there may not be more than eight or ten more backing them up. For all they know, we might be the advance party, checking out their strength.
Alex gave a casual grin, hoping to put the men at ease, then turned toward what had once been Denta-ah.
When they were away from what had once been Stipa-ah, Senta-eh said, “Did you notice that there were no other people in the village?”
“Yes. I think a family or wandering group came upon the deserted village and are trying to make it look like more than it is. More power to them.”
“Another of your odd expressions,” she answered, but she smiled at him.
By late that evening, they crossed onto the plain that had been one part of the bloody Battle of Denta-ah.
Almost three years removed from that battle, the landscape was changed. No one had appeared to try and rebuild Denta-ah. The field was just that—a field. The spot where the outer fence and gate had once stood had returned to nature.
No wonder I can’t find any signs of our technology here. Given enough time, the Earth always wins. Denta-ah has completely disappeared in only a few years. What can possibly survive the passage of tens of thousands of years?
Alex recognized the spot where the hills rose up and funneled into a single point as the spot where Denta-ah had once stood. He tried to get his bearings, to think about where the door would have been in relation to the village.
He had seen the door after chasing Douglas Winterborne through an underground tunnel that had stretched forever. That was not helpful in locating the door a second time.
“I have an idea,” Alex said, tightening his knees on his horse’s side.
“Of course you do,” Senta-eh said, but Alex did not hear it, as he was too far ahead. Senta-eh smiled, leaned forward over her steed’s neck, and whispered into its ear, urging it forward. The horse broke into a run and blew by Alex’s trotting horse. As she passed him, long hair flying behind her, she felt so free, she couldn’t help but laugh.
Alex shook his head, but couldn’t resist the challenge or the language of the cowboy movies of his youth. “Haya! Giddy up!” The horse did not understand English, but it did get the meaning and raced toward Senta-eh.
Her lead was too great then and he could not catch her. When he finally caught up, she had turned her horse sideways and was waiting for him casually, as though she had been waiting for him for days.
“Very funny,” Alex said.
“I do not understand why people think I do not have a sense of humor.”
“Maybe because they are more afraid that you might pin them to the ground than make them laugh.”
She considered. “That’s reasonable.”
Alex turned his head away so she wouldn’t see his smile. “Come on, I want to see what was once Denta-ah.”
They rode past the pinch point where the imposing interior barrier had been. The only sign of it now was a few black scorch marks on the rocks that had touched the barrier when Alex’s Army had burned it to the ground.
Alex and Senta-eh both dismounted at a spot where raised earth ran for more than fifty strides. That was where the fallen warriors of both tribes had been buried together in the Kragdon-ah custom. They stood in silence and remembered those who had fallen, friend and foe alike.
They left their horses to graze and walked to the southeastern corner of the small canyon. That had been where Douglas Winterborne had built his log cabin. All remnants of the cabin were gone, just like all the buildings, but Alex thought something might have survived.
When they reached the spot where the cabin had once stood, Alex tried to picture the layout in his mind. He
