“Any environmental shift causes disruption in the monster populations. That’s what Jannah taught us. This was a big one, but it wasn’t catastrophic. And you’re right that it doesn’t seem like it would cause a sudden rush of harpies and dropbears and colocolos five years later.”
“A ripple effect is still possible.”
I think about that before asking what he means. Then I nod. “What happened with the river caused other issues, and we’re just seeing the effects now.”
“Correct. We can’t rule out—”
“Stop!” Dain shouts.
He runs in front of us. We follow his gaze. We’re walking through a narrow part of the canyon. Like any river, the Michty widened and narrowed, depending on the surrounding environment. Here, the sides are solid rock, full of tight curves and narrow stretches. We’re in one of those stretches. Each wall is about thirty feet away. On one of those walls, just above eye level, is a khrysomallos.
That’s what caught Dain’s attention. That’s what has him pulling his bow slowly. A large, golden-haired winged ram. Several ewes and lambs dot the ledges above the ram.
“It’s…a khrysomallos,” Trysten says as he comes up beside us.
“I know.”
“I mean, it’s a sheep. A very pretty sheep, and Geraint’s crew were always on the lookout for lambs, but it’s still a sheep.” He glances over, his brows knitting. “You aren’t going to kill it for dinner, are you?”
“Of course not.”
“Good. Eating monsters is unpleasant. Also, killing the flock’s ram would be cruel. He’s their protector.”
“Mmm,” I say. “Not exactly. He’s mostly there to father babies, though he’s also supposed to stand guard. The females can fight, too.”
“Then keep an eye on all of them,” Dain says. “Everyone move slowly. Don’t draw their attention.”
As the ram nibbles grass, Trysten glances at Dain. “Is this a joke you’re playing on the newcomer? I might not be a monster expert, but I know khrysomallos. They’re sheep. Very pretty winged sheep.”
“We had an encounter,” I say. “One had been wounded by a farmer. I think Dain still has the bruises. Even a regular ram is dangerous if it’s angry.”
“Ah, understood. Well, then, yes, let’s proceed with caution. Everything seems fine—”
The ram lifts his head and looks straight at Dain. Then he drops his head, brandishing his thick, curled horns, and paws the ground.
“That’s very strange,” Trysten says.
“Yes,” Dain replies in a strained voice.
“We’re not within twenty feet of his herd.”
“Yes.”
“And yet he seems very angry. With you.”
“Yes.”
Trysten cocks his head as he looks at the snorting monster. “Could it be the one you encountered earlier?”
“No.”
“Perhaps it’s just you, then. Your looks. Or your smell.”
Dain glances over sharply.
“Scent,” Trysten says quickly. “I meant scent.”
I glance at Wilmot, only to see he’s watching me. Waiting for me to issue instructions. He’s relaxed, one hand on his dagger, clearly not alarmed and happy to use this as a training exercise.
“Dain?” I say. “Stay where you are.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“I think the ram is just warning Dain,” Trysten says. “But I wouldn’t mind a weapon, if you happen to have an extra. I hate to be a bother, but…”
I glance at Wilmot. He considers and then nods. No one should be unarmed out here. We’ll just keep an eye on Trysten.
“Take my dagger,” I say.
“No,” Dain says. “Take mine.” Gaze still locked on the snorting ram, he passes over his dagger. “Be careful. It’s a special one.”
“Thank you.”
“Rowan?” Alianor says.
“Everyone stay where you are,” I say. “Something’s not right here.”
“You think?” Dain mutters.
“Trysten may have a point,” Alianor says. “It’s possible that khrysomallos just doesn’t like the looks of Dain. We had a dog that always growled at men with beards.”
“I don’t have a beard,” Dain says.
She sighs. “My point—”
“I’m going to need to ask everyone to be quiet,” I say. “Give me a moment to figure this out.”
Is it possible the beast just doesn’t like the looks of Dain? I suppose if the ram had a bad experience with someone who looked like him, that could happen, but it seems unlikely. And while this is the second khrysomallos we’ve had trouble with, the first had a valid reason. It’s easy, then, to have it happen to us again and blame the wrong thing.
The first time there was a reason. This time, there must also be a reason. A different one.
Is it the bow? I consider telling Dain to put it away, but the ram was pawing the ground before he had it out.
Is it definitely Dain? I can see where the ram’s looking, and Dain is the only one near…
Wait. Malric is to our rear, and while it’s far from where the ram’s looking, that is significant. Malric is staying where he is, and he isn’t looking at the ram—he’s staring at the opposite cliff.
The ram isn’t snorting and pawing because of Dain. It sees something behind him. Malric has already figured that out. The problem is that neither of us can see what it is. The warg is looking for it, gaze scanning the canyon wall. I do the same, and see nothing but earth and rock.
We’re in a narrow and tight section of the canyon, with curves ahead and behind us. It seems possible that the ram senses something beyond one of those curves, but he isn’t looking that way. He might also see something on top of the canyon wall or a hidden snake on the canyon floor. There’s a moment when I remember the dropbear and think that’s the problem. But she isn’t still clinging to Dain’s chest. She climbed down a while ago and has been playing with Jacko. The two are a few feet from me. The more I consider it, the clearer it seems: The ram is either looking at Dain or at something directly behind him, on the rocks.
I follow the ram’s gaze and see only a rocky wall. There isn’t a bush for a predator to hide in. Nor a cave where it might lurk in the shadows. There’s nothing—
Movement. Just
