Moving silently was no easy thing. Even if Sarvottam stayed on hard ground it was hard to keep the bushes from rustling. Every step made a dry rustle in the dead leaves and broken twigs, or a snap as a branch broke. His shoulders started to ache from the effort of holding them relaxed. The moon made things seem brighter than they were. He could only tell by looking at stars that he was going more or less straight. The river should be straight ahead.

As he approached the river he slowed even more, and the sounds of night became even louder. An owl hooted somewhere overhead. Crickets chirped, and frogs sang from the edge of the river. He stood still a few moments, breathing easily for the first time since he left Parimal. The sound of frogs meant there was no Rakshasa prowling the riverbank.

The river murmured softly, and a night bird called again ahead of him. The cart was where he'd left it, hidden under branches in a dense clump of bushes. How Parimal had managed to pull the cart this far he didn't understand, especially with a bad leg.

Sarvottam was about to step into the open, but held himself back for a look up and down the river first. Even if no one was there, any noise he made could bring them. The moon shone on the water, but the shadows hid anything in the trees and along the bank. If anyone stood there he could not see. Or hear much, at the moment. But the night creatures would fall silent if a hunter or enemy came within even a few spans of them.

One breath, then another. He waited, but the creatures of the night continued to call and sing. The river gurgled past, and leaves rustled in a light breeze. Then the nightingale fell silent.