The Sanctuary

Chapter 73

Mia just sat by Corben’s body for a long while, not moving. Her skin resonated with a shivering that wouldn’t stop, and her eyes stared out into the darkness, avoiding the mounds of dead bodies, man and beast, that littered the ground around her.

Eventually, noticing that the brand she was still clutching was dying out, she rose to her feet and trudged over to the bonfire. She didn’t even bother looking around for more wolves, too weary and bone-tired and drained to care.

Nothing came at her.

With numb hands, she fed the fire again, then shrank down, her back to the tree Corben had been leaning against, and cupped her face with her hands.

Dawn was far off. She’d lost all notion of time, but she knew she had a long night ahead of her. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t going anywhere. She was going to stay there, riveted to that spot, until someone — or something — came and plucked her off it.

A lone, distant howl broke the stillness.

It wasn’t answered.

The creature sounded mournful, as if lamenting the great loss of life, the monsoon of death that had drenched the parched soil of the mountain.

And then she saw them.

Distant lights, flickering in and out from behind trees, a slow convoy snaking its way towards her.

She strained to get a clearer picture of who, or what, they were, but they were far off. They would disappear behind a ridge, then reappear a few minutes later, slightly closer. Gradually, they made their way to her, traveling in silence, a muted procession. When they finally came into view, she saw that there were several of them, on horseback, half a dozen or more perhaps, holding up flaming torches and oil lanterns.

She didn’t recognize any of them. She didn’t think they were from Nerva Zhori — she’d met a lot of the villagers in the commotion after the helicopter had exploded — then she saw the familiar face of the mokhtar as he climbed off his horse and approached her with a weary smile and a blanket.

He draped it over and led her to a waiting horse, the others watching her every move in respectful, if intrigued, silence.