Tel A’Har called a halt when they came to the edge of the meadow. They had moved cautiously but swiftly through the long grass, as the meadow was large, open and exposed compared to the woodland that preceded it. The crossing had been a terrifying experience, despite the shrouding provided by early morning mist and the long grass. The summer migration was at least better than the winter one, when the grass was much shorter and the monsters hungrier.
Before Tel A’Har stretched the worst part of the journey. It was a smaller crossing than the meadow, but it was so much more exposed. There was nothing to hide behind, under or inside on its unnaturally regular stone-like surface. This was the trail left by the speed-monsters. No-one had ever actually seen one and lived to tell because they moved so fast and were so fearsome. On the occasion a young, brave buck managed to see one and survive, their thunderous roar and hot stench left nightmarish and fragmented memories.
Still, they had to reach the other side, and scouts had never found a way around the trail. Tel A’Har sat up on his haunches and scented the air thoroughly. It smelled safe, so he gave the signal and the small group cautiously stepped onto the hard, black surface.