“Watcher said, her nose twitching. The clay was breaking down, and the odor was getting to Owen too. Even breathing through his mouth didn’t help any longer. “You won’t dare wash at the water’s edge,” he said. “You don’t want the Kerrol attacking.” “Look at the vegetation. Green trees and plants everywhere. There has to be a freshwater source. I’ll bet there’s a lagoon somewhere on the middle island, if not on all three.” Owen began to despair. It was not so much the fear of what lay beneath the...m, though he feared it. They were being driven by some unseen, uncaring force of nature, and even the pack on his back containing The Book of the King was of little comfort. The report of fires on the island gave him hope that Mordecai was indeed there. If they could find him, Owen would offer food as a peace offering. But the Kerrol weighed on Owen’s mind now as the sun peaked. Though the water was cold, the sun quickly warmed the skiff and Owen began to sweat, which made the jargid oil smell even worse, if that was possible.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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