"Dead, and in but a
few heartbeats of time!" He leaned on his staff, took a deep
breath. "And that's what they would have done to me!"
He moved gingerly from his retreat.
He listened carefully.
"There are no more of them . . . ?" He glanced fearfully toward
the ravine from which they had emerged.
There was only silence.
Slowly Demo edged up to the brink of the precipice, slowly
peered downward.
Nothing could be seen save a few scattered boulders and a few
dark patches lying ominously quiet.
He turned now downward, turned his back on the lonely
desolation of the higher peaks. His thoughts remained with the
scene that had just occurred.
Long he had heard of brigands and outlaws in the high
mountains. In appearance these had looked no different than his
neighbors in the valley. Yet they had destroyed each other in
acts of senseless violence.
"May the Gods keep me! What strange mad creatures we humans
are!" he whispered to himself. He paused, leaned against the
bole of a tree. He felt nauseated, weak. They were not old,
certainly younger than his Mother. And now, snuffed out, gone.
He sat down, his back against the tree.
It could have just as easily been me. He took a deep breath. It
was me they wanted. And they would have killed me just as
quickly. A shiver ran through his body.
"Is life so very cheap?" He looked at his hands, held them in
front of his face. "It can end so quickly. "
He had never thought about it.
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