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A scribe's inkpot lay shattered on the stone floor, and moldering books lined shelves built into the walls. "Light a candle," Cerril said as he stared around the room. Someone took one of the candle stubs from a mounting on the wall and lit it. The wavering yellow flame filled the small room with light and hard-carved shadows that danced on the walls. "I don't see any treasure," Hekkel commented. Cerril went through the books, not knowing exactly what it was that he hoped to find. There was nothing in the book stacks, and equally nothing in the small desk against the wall.
She'd liked the man better when she'd believed he was a victim. Stepping back from him, she tucked the kit tinder her arm and opened it. She took a few small packages from the kit and handed them to the woman. "Food," Druz said. " "The slavers burned our homes," the woman said. " "I'm sorry," Druz said. " "At least you're still alive and free," Druz said. "Free to starve to death in this forest or to fall to one of the vicious beasts that live here," a man muttered. " "We need someone to guide us out of here," the woman told Druz.
The bitch jerked back as if scalded. More blood matted her fur as the wound continued to dribble. As she turned, Haarn saw that the bitch was heavy with unborn pups. She looked scrawny, almost used up by the coming birth. Her eyes rolled white as she continued backing away, and her muzzle dipped low to the ground. Druz cursed, and her words seemed to crash through even the storm sounds echoing throughout the forest. The rolling thunder was a natural sound in the forest, but a human voice wasn't.