[This post is from Matt’s point of view.]
It was a sound more felt than heard. It sent a shiver through his bones as he climbed the hill toward the forge. Smoke already rose from its chimney—Thordin must have been there already, either already working or just getting things warmed up for his inevitable arrival.
Sipping from his third cup of coffee—worrying and wondering had proven to be thirsty work—Matt had been trying to shake the feeling of unease that plagued him, trying to convince himself that whatever happened was well beyond his ability to affect, at least in the short term. He didn’t think he was wrong. Not this time, anyway.
Then he felt it, the unheard something that he somehow still knew was a sound, and paused a dozen yards from the forge. He looked around slowly, swallowing hard against the bile that suddenly rose in his throat. Above him on the hill, Thordin stepped into the morning light, a strange expression on his face.
“Do you feel that?” Matt asked him.
Thordin nodded, his jaw tightening briefly. “Yeah. You too?”
“You’d better believe it. Where’s it coming from?”
“I don’t know,” Thordin said, turning to duck back into the forge for a moment. He emerged seconds later with both of their weapons in hand. He lofted Matt’s warhammer toward him. “But I think we’d better find out.”
Matt caught the weapon by its haft and nodded. He drained his coffee and jogged the last few steps to the forge to leave the mug there. “What do you think it is?”
“I don’t know. But we’ll find that out, too.” Thordin clapped a hand to his shoulder, squeezing for a second. Matt smiled grimly.
“No doubt. Come on.”
