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was evident among the Kifzo and each nodded their heads in agreement.
    Perhaps he heeded my advice after all?
    “Now,” said Kaz turning toward the dead animals, “let’s get this meat ready. I’d rather not have another meal of stale bread and dried fish.” The warriors grunted in agreement, eager to have a warm meal after traveling for weeks on the same bland diet.
    Willing to do his part, Tobin set off toward the closest llama, when a hand clasped his shoulder. “Organize the watch, Brother . There are more important things to do than fill your belly.”
    Tobin bit his tongue. “As you say, Warleader.”
    * * *
    Life had become a blur of monotony. The welcome rest of each day was interrupted by merciless killing that filled the night. The gloom provided a natural cover to the dark skinned warriors as well as relief from the arid daytime climate. If there was perfect weather for killing, Tobin was sure the desert nights provided it.
    Since coming upon those first three huts four days ago, a dozen more fishing villages suffered similar fates. No two villages they came upon were the same, each varying in size and setup. Only one common element stood out to Tobin as the Kifzo moved between settlements—they found only men. Although he had no appetite for it, killing men in their sleep at least made sense. Fewer to face in battle. Kill them now or kill them later. Still, he found it odd there were no signs of women or children. Maybe the families reside in Nubinya while the men work along the coast? I hope that continues to hold true.
    Tobin’s hope ended when one of Walor’s scouts returned with new information on their next target. An estimated five hundred inhabitants, including families—the largest settlement by far and only a short distance away.
    The scout described the village in great detail and included the surrounding terrain and landmarks. Standing with his brow furrowed, Kaz said not a word the entire time Walor spoke. His right hand stroked the neatly trimmed goatee that wrapped his chin, a habit picked up as a teenager when his beard began to grow in.
    Walor finished, took a step back, and waited with the rest of the Kifzo for his orders. The moments began to pass by, yet Kaz stood motionless. Tobin glanced around and saw agitation on the faces of others.
    Finally, Kaz spoke. “Your scout missed something.”
    A confused look. “Missed something? He gave us a detailed layout of the entire settlement.”
    “And that’s the problem. Your report didn’t mention anything about the people living there. It’s still early enough that they wouldn’t all be sleeping. Who is still awake? Why? What were they doing? What was their behavior like?”
    Walor turned to his scout for an answer but the blank look on the man’s face said enough. Obviously embarrassed, he had no answers to Kaz’s questions.
    A voice to the right cut in, saving the head scout from any further humiliation. “What nonsense is this? What the people are cooking makes little difference. Does fear cause you to hesitate, Warleader? Surely you aren’t afraid of a village filled with fishermen and their families.” The warrior chuckled and several others joined in.
    Tobin’s gaze went to the large Kifzo as he spoke. Durahn stood a head above even the tallest of men. In size, the behemoth dwarfed even he and Kaz who were both well over six feet in height. Like many of the other Kifzo, Durahn chose to wear his long black hair in thick braids down to his shoulders. His long beard came to a braided point. Hair and beard framed a massive head with a flat nose and wide-set eyes.
    As the deep but quiet laughter faded from the large warrior, Kaz swung his broad shoulders around to face him. Tobin watched as Durahn readied himself. Like everyone else, Durahn expected a confrontation and it looked like he wanted it. Kaz tilted his head up, eyeing the man with an inquisitive expression. “Do you wish to carelessly throw away the lives of your