Blackfeather Woods amulet

The hunter moved through the flatlands at an unhurried clip. The heat of the evening brought his forked tongue out in metronomic panting. Hot air settled over the horizon, sent ripples through the treeline.

If he noticed the golden man he gave no indication of it. Khenbish's demeanor was sleepy-eyed, opiate, but a current ran beneath the langour, a certain hidden tenseness.

His dark gaze flickered from side to side. His mouth was dry. A great lapse in the world seemed to have caught the both of them, suspended in time and temperature.