“I figured I was doomed to lie in the dew till morning when I’d be missed, but then I heard a sound in the leaves—I was afraid it was a wolf or bear come to eat me, but instead it was a Lakewalker patroller. I was thinking at first I’d rather a bear, but he turned out to be a nice young fellow.

“He laid hands on my foot and eased me amazingly, and picked me up and carried me back to the house. I was skinnier back then, mind, bit of a dab, really. He was not near so tall as you”—she nodded in Dag’s general direction—“but right stout. Nice voice, almost as deep as yours. He explained all about how he was on exchange from some camp way out east, and this was his first patrol in these parts—lonely and homesick, I was thinking. Anyhow, I fed him quiet in the kitchen, and he did a real fine job bandaging my ankle up nice and firm.

“I don’t know if he decided I was his adopted aunt, or if he was more like a boy picking up a bird with an injured wing and making a pet of it, but late the next night there came a tapping on my window. He was back with some medicine, some for my foot and some for Tril’s tummy, which he handed in—he wouldn’t stay that time, though. The powders worked wonderful well, I must say.” She sighed in fond recollection.

“Off he went and I thought no more of it, but next summer, about the same time of year, there came that tapping at my window again. We had a bit of a picnic on the back porch in the dark, and talked. He was glad to hear Tril had delivered you safe, Fawn. He gave me some little presents and I gave him some food and cloth. The next summer the same; I got to looking out for him.

“The next year he came back one more time, but not alone. He brought his new bride, just to show her off to me I think, he was that proud of her. He showed me their Lakewalker marriage-bracelets, string-bindings they called ’em, knowin’ I had a maker’s interest in all things to do with the craft, thread and cords and braids as well as the weaving and knitting. They let me hold them in my hands and feel them. Gave me a turn, they did. They weren’t just fancy cord. They were magical.”

“Yes,” said Dag cautiously, and at Fawn’s curious look expanded, “Each betrothed puts a tiny bit of their ground into their own cord. The string-binding ceremony tangles the two grounds, then they exchange, his for hers.”