The path that climbed above the Painted Dogs camp narrowed quickly as it wound deeper into the mountains. Loose stones shifted beneath each step, and the wind carried the sharp smell of pine and cold rock down from the higher slopes.
Harrag moved ahead with the steady silence of a man who had hunted these mountains his entire life. A long axe rested across his back, and a short spear hung loosely in his hand. Two other warriors followed behind him, speaking little as they climbed.
Torren walked last.
His smaller feet made far more noise than the men ahead of him, and once or twice a warrior glanced back with mild irritation.
"Too loud," one of them muttered.
Harrag did not turn around.
"Let the boy learn," he said.
The climb grew steeper as they moved higher along the slope. Eventually the trees thinned, giving way to open rock and patches of stubborn grass that clung to cracks in the mountainside.
Harrag stopped suddenly.
The warriors behind him froze.
Torren nearly walked into the back of one of them before noticing the reason.
Tracks.
Fresh ones.
The prints were deep in a patch of damp soil where snow had melted earlier that morning.
Harrag crouched beside them.
"Goat," he said quietly.
One of the other warriors nodded.
"A big one."
Torren leaned forward to look.
Inside his mind the calm voice spoke.
Mountain goat.
Torren blinked slightly.
Male.
The boy frowned.
How do you know?
Depth of the track. Weight distribution.
Torren stared at the prints more carefully now.
Harrag was already studying the ground, tracing the direction of the tracks up the slope.
The goat had climbed toward the cliffs above them.
Torren looked up the mountain.
Then something caught his eye.
A broken patch of grass higher up the ridge.
The voice spoke again.
There.
Torren lifted a hand and pointed.
"Up there."
The warriors turned.
Harrag followed the boy's finger toward the higher rocks.
For a moment the man said nothing.
Then he stood.
"You saw that?"
Torren nodded.
"The grass moved."
Harrag studied the ridge again.
The broken grass was nearly invisible from where they stood.
One of the other warriors squinted.
"I don't see it."
Harrag did.
The big man's beard shifted slightly as a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Sharp eyes," he muttered.
The hunters moved more carefully now, climbing slowly along the ridge while the wind rushed past the cliffs. Torren stayed close behind Harrag, watching the rocks ahead.
Inside his mind the voice continued quietly.
The animal will try to climb higher.
Torren frowned.
Why?
Instinct. Height provides escape routes.
Torren glanced toward the cliff walls above them.
Moments later Harrag suddenly raised his hand.
Everyone stopped.
Thirty paces ahead, a large mountain goat stood on a narrow ledge of rock. Its curved horns swept backward from its head, and its thick white coat blended almost perfectly with the pale stone around it.
The animal had not seen them yet.
Harrag slowly lowered the spear from his shoulder.
The warriors spread slightly along the ridge.
Torren watched the goat carefully.
Inside his mind the calm voice spoke again.
If it climbs higher, you will lose it.
Torren swallowed.
"Hurry," he whispered.
Harrag did not need to be told twice.
The spear left his hand with a sudden snap of movement.
The goat saw the hunters at the last second and tried to leap toward the cliff above.
But the spear struck first.
The animal collapsed onto the stone with a heavy thud.
For a moment the wind was the only sound.
Then one of the warriors laughed.
"A good kill."
Harrag walked toward the fallen animal and pulled the spear free.
Blood ran dark across the pale rock.
The big man turned and looked back at Torren.
"You saw the grass move," he said.
Torren shrugged slightly.
"Maybe."
Harrag studied him for a moment.
Then he nodded once.
"Good eyes keep men alive in these mountains."
Inside Torren's mind the calm voice spoke again.
Observation is useful.
Torren looked at the fallen goat and said nothing.
But somewhere inside him, the quiet certainty returned again.
The voice was right.
And today, it had helped feed the clan.