With that he rode away, into the sacred valley. Adala listened until his horse’s hoofbeats were lost in the sighing wind. She stared at the ground, trying to understand what Those on High wanted of her. The foreign killers were in the valley. What was she to do next?
A few feet from Little Thorn’s left front hoof lay an unusually shaped stone. It was of common composition, but rectangular, with sharp corners, as if worked by a mason’s hand. Adala slid off her donkey, an idea taking shape in her mind.
The stone was three feet long and two wide, and she could barely shift it, but she finally got it aligned across the entrance to the pass. It was perfect. More would be needed, of course, many more. Yet it was a start.
The united tribes of Khur had a new task before them.
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