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different direction than the paw prints. "Them be different. Ah be seein' those aboard the wreck, but at the time, Ah'd assumed they be for the crew or the bugger who owns that big cat. Now? Na so much. That cat's got some with him, but they be comin' the way we did. Them others, they came in a slightly different way. Ah'd think they be doin' the killin."
    Krumer was impressed. He could track on his own, but was not a master tracker by any means. "Where did you learn to track?"
    O'Fallon grinned slightly. "Ah na always be a sailor. When ah be a lad, me Uncle felt me own education be lackin'. So he be takin' me up inta the Highlands. There we'd spend days a time followin' the odd beastie we'd come across."
    "Well then, praise to your Uncle for doing so. How do you know this other group are the killers and not the ones with the cat?" The first mate knelt to peer closer at the smudges of tracks to try to discern what O'Fallon could see.
    Still in his kneeling position, O'Fallon half-turned and looked at the closest bunks. He smiled and pointed at the second closest. "There, the big boot prints. They be more'n a bit bloody. But the blood be around the boot. The prints next ta it smear the blood. They had ta come after."
    "So two groups." Krumer said aloud to confirm his own thoughts.
    "That's all fine and well, but how do we know both groups aren't equally murderous?" Thorias asked, a hint of irritation in his voice.
    Before anyone could answer, a ring of metal echoed in the air, bouncing off the buildings. Immediately, all four crouched low and looked around, pistols at the ready. O'Fallon cocked his head sideways when the noise happened again. Silently he motioned towards the far side of the room they were in, then slipped past and silently walked that way. The solemn eyes of his crew mates watched him carefully as he approached the rear door.
    O'Fallon paused, tense as a bowstring, then closed his hand around the door latch. Carefully he put his weight on it and unlatched the door with what seemed to be a deafening click. O'Fallon eased the door open an inch.
    Suddenly, a gunshot rang out! O'Fallon jerked backwards instantly, and the thud of a body hitting the ground was heard throughout the room.
    "O'Fallon!" Krumer shouted as he bolted across the room.
     
     
     

Chapter 6
     
    O 'Fallon stumbled back and crouched behind the door, so he was hidden from any view outside the building. He looked over with a pained expression at Krumer, who led the charge. Moira, Thorias and Arcady followed across the room.
    Frantically the quartermaster waved at them to crouch down. "Hush! It na be me this time! It be the dead bugger bleeding on the ground past the door who be gettin' shot. Now drop outta' sight!"
    At that admission, the others stopped where they were and crouched below the level of the tall windows in the room. Krumer slowly crawled around one of the few empty bunks in the room and sat directly beneath one of the windows. He closed his eyes to listen. In the far distance, he could hear the screech and call of the blackbirds and firehawks in some dispute over a perch, and a dull rumble of thunder that had become more common over the past hour. 
    Krumer opened his eyes and looked around at his companions. "Anyone hear anything? See anything?"
    Thorias eased up from his sitting position until he could peer over a bunk and the window ledge past it. Outside loomed a pair of warehouses identical to the ones they had passed between earlier. Three blackbirds flew over the pair of buildings while gray storm clouds rolled slowly overhead in a cold, yet picturesque backdrop. His eyes darted back and forth but his sensitive elven hearing could not find any noise that seemed out of place. 
    Slowly, he eased back, out of view of the window.  "Not a thing. It looks quiet from here."
    Moira carefully peered out the window, but saw nothing out of the ordinary, either. She shook her head. "Real quiet here."
    O'Fallon looked quickly around