Arrow Lake the water in my bones was running dry

There it was again. Ephraim paused as a feeling like static swept over his spine. He could swear the sound of trickling water echoed in his ears, distant but reminiscent of the constant drip-drop often heard in caves. It made him lift his head and swivel it. Even in the fog, he recognized the silhouette.

The taotaomona had spoken. Not in voices. He did not hear any voices, but that feeling and that sound were equally unmistakable now. Ephraim ignored the way his heart beat a warning behind his breastbone. That happened with everyone. You can never know which friendly face has ill intentions with you until the knife is in your back, and Ephraim hadn't survived by letting his guard down even when the face was a familiar one.

What did you do with that antler? he called from a healthy distance, swinging his dark tail several times in amiable greeting, yet the suspicion that characterized his very being was present as ever.