Ashe led, Ross towed the donkeys, and McNeil brought up the rear. In the
absence of a path they had to set a ragged course, keeping to the edge
of the clearing until they saw the end of the lake.
"Woodsmoke," Ashe commented when they had completed two thirds of their
journey. Ross sniffed and was able to smell it too. Nodding to Ashe,
McNeil oozed into nothingness between the trees with an ease Murdock
envied. As they waited for him to return, Ross became conscious of
another life about them, one busy with its own concerns, which were in
no way those of human beings, except that food and perhaps shelter were
to be reckoned among them.
In Britain, Ross had known there were others of his kind about, but this
was different. Here, he could have believed it if he had been told he
was the first man to walk this way.
A squirrel ran out on a tree limb and surveyed the two men with curious
beady eyes, then clung head down on the tree trunk to see them better.
One of the donkeys tossed its head, and the squirrel was gone with a
flirt of its tail.
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