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Cannig Tol continued, ’We are the clay, and our endless war against the Jaghut is the struggling beast beneath The surface is shaped by what lies beneath’ He gestured with one hand ’And before us now, in these creatures slowly turning to stone, is the curse of eternity’

There was stilland ay,’ Cannig Tol resuone from the mortal realm Hunter and hunted both’

’To the very bones,’ the Bonecaster whispered

’Would that you had seen an o

Pran Chole also straightened ’Would that I had,’ he agreed in a tone that only faintly echoed Cannig Tol’s wry, sardonic utterance

’Are we close, Bonecaster?’

Pran Chole glanced down at his shadow, studied the antlered silhouette, the figure hinted within furred cape, ragged hides and headdress The sun’s angle hut ’Toht of travel eaken them yet more’

’Good Then the clan shall caht’

The Bonecaster listened as Cannig Tol made his way back down to where the others waited With darkness, Pran Chole would spiritwalk Into the whispering earth, seeking those of his own kind While their quarry eakening, Cannig Tol’s clan was yet weaker Less than a dozen adults rehut, the distinction of hunter and hunted had little

He lifted his head and sniffed the crepuscular air Another Bonecaster wandered this land The taint was unmistakable He wondered who it ondered why it travelled alone, bereft of clan and kin And, knowing that even as he had sensed its presence so it in turn had sensed his, he wondered why it had not yet sought them out

She pulled herself clear of thein harsh, laboured gasps Her son and daughter squirmed free of her leaden arms, crawled further onto the island’s hut ainst the cool, damp sand Grit pressed into the skin of her forehead with raw insistence The burns there were too recent to have healed, nor were they likely to -- she was defeated, and death had only to await the arrival of her hunters