A ripple ran through the plain in a wide, slow circle.
By then, Clayton was already as alert as a bird of prey as already in the state of flight response, his senses were honed to the limits under the effects of adrenaline as he searched for any danger without waking Soren.
He would try not to wake him until the situation turned desperate.
He heard it again.
Bzzz!
It passed under shrubs, through stones, and across the stream. On the other side, the garden on the hill answered with a slope of tone that tasted blue.
The ripple touched Clayton's roots and paused.
A question pressed into his cambium. Not from a mind, but from a law that recognized kin.
'Name?'
Maybe the likes of Torren and the others would have recoiled in shock, or maybe even screamed in the face of this invading existence, but not Clayton.
Clayton was an experienced Trial survivor.
