It was peaceful enough, in fact, that they were not the only ones treating the lower slope as a place to catch their breath.
As they crested a broad terrace of broken rock, they came upon a cluster of other competitors who had clearly decided the same thing: a loose knot of seven or eight Core Genesis hopefuls, bells bobbing nervously at their shoulders, holed up in the lee of a great leaning slab where the sightlines were good and the approaches were few.
They had banded together for safety, the universal instinct of the middle of the pack, and they were doing what frightened people always did while they waited for the danger to find them.
They were talking.
The team slowed, unhurried, and Rudrean angled their path to pass near the slab rather than around it. Listening, as Isalyn had said, was its own reward.
