*
*
A black crow.
Not just anyone, it's the same beast from the previous day. The same ruffled black feathers, the same watchful eyes.
Ruto has enough experience in scouting and warfare to know what it means.
The crows' glassy eyes are fixed on him. Unblinking. Waiting.
They are being followed, and whoever it is wants to make him aware.
Ruto's body teeters on the edge of unease. Rage.
This territory he has claimed for himself, who dares to invade?
In a blur of accurate movements, the sharpened end of his wooden stake pins the now-dead crow to the nearest tree.
He's sending a message too.
The coward should be courageous enough to show his face.
Juta awakens to the sound of grating metal, and an almost look of exasperation passes across his features.
Why is Ruto sharpening weapons again? He's behaving as though a war is going to happen right here in the forest.
Apart from a few wild animals they hunt as food, it's not as if they are other threats.
