People Of The Flood (Ark Chronicles 2) - Plot & Excerpts
The next day, as the sun rose, Shem trudged up the mountain alone, dewy grass wetting his sandals. Halfway up, he dusted moss off a rock and sat until he regained his wind. He didn’t want to make this trip, but he rose and continued. He passed stands of birch and, later, pines. Robins sang, and in time, he came to Noah’s tent. The wind rippled the northern-sheeted wall, while all around the sprawling tent stood sod root cellars like sunken halls for mythic dwarves. Ivy and grass grew out of the dirt walls. He maneuvered past them to listen at the tent flap for snoring or the sounds of a sleeping man. When he heard nothing, he called out, but there was no answer. He rapped his knuckles on the tent pole, waited, and at last poked in his head. The couch of last night was empty. The blanket Japheth and he had draped over their father lay crumbled on the floor. A sour wine odor yet clung within. Shem checked the low-roofed root cellars, unlatching the doors to peer into gloomy chambers.
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