Author's Note: Kisses and hugs to all my reviewers!
Di12381: I'm continuing.
KaliAnn: I'm typing.
Leener: You don't have to wait any longer, the new chapter is here!
Chapter 4
Roxton crouched low to the ground, studying it. A partial bootprint in the soft earth convinced him that Malone had come this way, but where was he now? Moving carefully, examining the ground, crushed grass, bent leaves, and snapped twigs, he followed Malone's trail, hoping that it would lead him to his friend.
A breeze brushed his face, carrying with it the putrid smell of rotting flesh. He stood up.
"Do you smell that?" he asked, turning to the Professor, Veronica, and Margeurite.
All of them breathed deep, trying to smell it. Veronica wrinkled her nose. "That rotting smell?" she asked, feeling a little sick.
"Do you think it's—"Margeurite began, but she stopped, looking rather green. The Professor patted her shoulder.
"Let's go see," Roxton said, leading the way.
They all breathed a sigh of relief when they found the half-eaten panther. Roxton, tying a bandanna over his nose and mouth, hurriedly examined it and washed his hands off in the nearby spring.
"Well?" Veronica asked. "What killed it?"
"A bullet. It was shot right in the back of the head by someone, and the wound looks like the caliber of bullet that belonged to the gun Malone was using. I think that he shot it."
"In the back of the head?" the Professor asked, sounding uncertain. "How did he manage that if it was going to attack him? He'd have had to shoot it from the front, wouldn't he?"
"Well, what if it wasn't about to attack him, but someone else?" Roxton asked, mopping his forehead. "What if Malone saved someone from panther attack?"
"Well, if that's true, then why didn't he come back to the treehouse afterwards?" Margeurite wanted to know. "What's been keeping him?"
Roxton shrugged. "I don't know. Perhaps they invited him for the night since it was almost evening. The panther's only been dead a day or so, so that puts it at the other night." Roxton began examining the ground at his feet. "There was someone else here, and it looks like Malone joined him or her, and they went off that way," he finished, pointing the way.
Veronica looked. "It was a woman, but I think an older one," she said, staring at the stranger's footprints.
"What makes you say that?" Challenger asked, intrigued.
"Because her feet are smaller, and she walks with a very slight limp," she explained. "See how the impression on the right foot isn't as deep? That means she favors her leg. Arthritis would be a possible cause, I think."
"Ah," Challenger said, fascinated. "I wonder. . ."
"Wonder as you walk, George, we've got a ways to go, yet," Roxton said, heading off in the direction that Malone and the woman had taken.
Space
"Woah," Veronica said, staring at the large city.
"Well, this is new," Challenger said, looking the scene, perplexed. "Wasn't this place a huge meadow a few months ago?"
"Things shift on the plateau, Challenger," Margeurite said, doing her own amount of staring. "I wonder if they have a shopping district?" she said wistfully. "Perhaps something like Harrod's?"
Roxton ignored her and stared down at the ground. "They were here, and it looks like a bunch of people on horseback met them, picked them up, and took them into the city."
"Yes, but where in the city is Ned now?" Veronica asked as they headed forward.
"I guess we'll have to look," Roxton said, still leading the way. "Everyone, keep your eyes peeled."
The city was a confusion of noise, people, smells, and events. They walked through a market, fighting their way through the crowd, saw acrobats, musicians, newspapers and magazines being sold, and saw one huckster promising miracle pills that would cure any ailment. Horses and sheep were close by, and food stalls cooked up fried meat pies, fruit pies, fried sausages and bread, and stalls with overripe fruit lent a cloying sweetness to the air. People shouted to one another, hawkers called out their wares, and a public reader was reading a newspaper out loud to a group gathered about him.
"Well, this certainly isn't Herrod's," Margeurite said, watching where she was putting her feet.
"How are we going to find Malone in all of this?" Challenger asked as they neared what seemed to be the main street.
"Aah—" Roxton said, but he trailed off, staring at what he was seeing. There, seated in a carriage next to an older woman and across from an older man, was Malone, waving and nodding to the populace.
"Is anyone else confused?" Veronica demanded as the carriage rolled by.
None of them had to answer that.