All His Wrath

THIS LANDSCAPE IS ALMOST LUNAR, Peter thought. It was difficult to make out much in the near-total darkness. In the silvery glow of a waxing crescent moon, he could see nothing that resembled vegetation. The air was warm enough to be comfortable, and the arid terrain reflected moonlight off of stone and glittery soil. Peter felt a tingle steal down his back. Otherworldly…man, this place kind of gives me the creeps. He was cross with himself for feeling uneasy, even with Conomorg and Ita-Mudak standing like sentries nearby. And he knew he was being absurd. How do I know what “lunar” looks like? Watching the moon landing on TV hardly makes me an authority on the subject. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that they’d come to a place…to a place—he couldn’t put his finger on it.

Danielle, looking somewhat ghostly, showed no concern on her face, for which Peter was grateful. But then she had Anja next to her, an imposing sentry in her own right. He again felt a rush of gratitude to Amy for picking out such an enormous beast of a dog. Anja was panting but seemed happy.