Every stream they crossed was followed, often for miles, and inland more often than not. Gradually they rose, until the huge trees and lush undergrowth had begun to thin, to dense scrub, while the ground had become increasingly broken. They saw no buildings larger than the occasional hunter’s cabin, which they gave a wide berth. Twice dogs were heard, but never close, and once, far below them, they saw a clearing in which slaves were working to cut great orange blossoms. On neither occasion were they followed. Twice it rained, leaving them wet and steaming as they dried, but thankful. On the morning of the third day they reached a gully, a great split in the land, with a sheer drop of some three times Cianna’s height to a stream rushing among huge boulders. Without discussion they turned to the south, higher into the mountains. For an hour they walked, the gully beside them gradually growing shallower, until they reached a great thicket of cane, coating the sides of the gully and much of the slopes.
