The peace of the woodland descended again, easing Dag’s spirit. The light and air and solitude, the placid mare moving warmly beneath him, and Fawn curled against him with her ground slowly releasing its accumulation of anguish, put him wholly in a present that required nothing more of him, nor he of it. Released, for a moment, from an endless chain of duty and task, tautly pulling him into a weary future not chosen, merely accepted.

“How’re you doing?” he murmured into Fawn’s hair. “Pain?”

“No worse than when I was sitting up at breakfast, anyhow. Better than last night. This is all right.”

“Good.”

“Dag…’’ She hesitated.

“Mm?”

“What do Lakewalker women do who get in a fix like mine?”

The question baffled him. “Which fix?”

She gave a small snort. “I suppose I have been collecting troubles, lately. A baby and no husband was the one I was thinking of. Grass widowhood.”

He could sense the grating of grief and guilt through her with that reminder. “It doesn’t exactly work like that, for us.”

She frowned. “Are young Lakewalkers all really, really…um…virtuous?”

He laughed softly. “No, if by virtuous you just mean keeping their trousers buttoned. Other virtues are more in demand. But young is young, farmer or Lakewalker. Pretty much everyone goes through an awkward period of fumbling around finding things out.”

“You said a woman invites a man to her tent.”

“If he’s a lucky man.”

“Then how do…’’ She trailed off in confusion.

He finally figured out what she was asking. “Oh. It’s our grounds, again. The time of the month when a woman can conceive shows as a beautiful pattern in her ground. If the time and place are wrong for a child, she and her man just pleasure each other in ways that don’t lead to children.”

Fawn’s silence following this extended for a quite a long time. Then she said, “What?”

“Which what?”

“How do people…people can do that? How?”

Dag swallowed uneasily. How much could this girl not know? By the evidence so far, quite a lot, he reflected ruefully. How far back did he need to begin?

“Well—hands, for one.”

“Hands?”

“Touching each other, till they trade release. Tongues and mouths and other things, too.”

She blinked. “Release?”

“Touch each other as you’d touch yourself, only with a better angle and company and, well, just better all around. Less…lonely.”

Her face screwed up. “Oh. Boys do that, I know. I guess girls could do it for them, too. Do they like it?”

“Um…generally,” he said cautiously. This unexpected turn of the conversation sped his mind, and his body was following fast. Calm yourself, old patroller. Fortunately, she could not sense the heated ripple in him. “Girls like it, too. In my experience.”

Another long, digestive silence. “Is this some Lakewalker lady thing? Magic?”