### 144

Without a rigged sail, the stinking marsh wind propels your boat along the channel at a far slower rate. Gradually you approach the cluster of huts and, as you pass before them, you see eight dwellings, each built of mud-daubed roots and thatched with rotting vegetation. They are empty but they have not been deserted. The shoreline is littered with bones, the remnants of past meals, and nearby is a crude wooden frame on which the skins of a snake and a lizard have been stretched out to dry.

'It's a Ciquali camp,' whispers Prarg nervously, his eyes scouring the surrounding waters for the slightest sign of movement. During your travels you have heard tales about the Ciquali, none of which were favourable. They are the bane of the Hellswamp--a breed of vicious amphibians, intelligent and cunning, with a taste for human flesh that makes them especially dangerous.

'Our luck's good, Lone Wolf,' says Prarg, as gradually the wind carries you beyond the huts. 'The camp's empty--they must be away hunting. Truly we're fortunate to have come this way this time.'

As soon as you lose sight of the settlement, you hoist the sail and catch the prevailing wind which propels you northwards along Dakushna's Channel. You are hungry, and unless you possess Grand Huntmastery, you must now eat a Meal or lose 3 ENDURANCE points.

To continue, turn to 322.

Text copyright © 1991 Joe Dever.
Illustrations copyright © 1991 Brian Williams.