S Baring-Gould

Noemi S Baring-Gould

The forest had become very still. Every wood noise held its breath. I felt the dogs pressing against my legs. They too were silent; but every muscle in their bodies trembled, their hair was stiff along their backs and their eyes, fixed on the falling lights, were filmed with the terror glaze. I looked at Anderson. He was staring at the North where once more the beam had pulsed upward. "It can't be the aurora," I spoke without moving my lips. My mouth was as dry as though Lao T'zai had poured his fear dust down my throat. "If it is I never saw one like it," he answered in the same tone. "Besides who ever heard of an aurora at this time of the year?" He voiced the thought that was in my own mind. "It makes me think something is being hunted up there," he said, "an unholy sort of hunt-it's well for us to be out of range."