Chapter 3
At one point, Martin’s feet went out from beneath him when he hit a slick spot in a narrow gully. Down he went, slipping and sliding, scooting on his arse along a muddy s***h in the hillside, until he fetched up against a tree that leaned out over the declivity. He grabbed the rough bark, halting his headlong fall and dragged himself up onto a rockier though less slippery spot. From there he continued down with no further mishap. His wet and muddy trousers clung to his legs, clammy and chilling. A fire would be most welcome. He hoped the hut offered at least that much. The smoke seemed to promise it would.
As he approached the odd little structure, Martin heard muffled sounds he could not quite identify, like a heavy step and a snuffle or whuff. Deep in the valley, dusk had tur
