The rest of the camp was still sleeping when Robert crouched beside the footprints again and began looking at them more carefully.
In the full darkness before dawn, he had only confirmed their existence and their direction. Now, with the sky beginning to lighten between the cliff tops, there was enough to work with.
The prints were consistent in depth and spacing, left by someone walking at an unhurried pace. The edges were soft and slightly crumbled, the way impressions in fine grit became after sitting undisturbed for an extended period. Fresh prints had sharp, clean edges. These did not.
Sai knelt beside him and began measuring the impressions with the small folding rule he carried as part of his standard kit, a habit developed from months of evidence collection back home. He worked through several prints before speaking.
