They camped early, before the mountainside obscured itself in shadow, and she fixed a meal. Aton stared into the somber water of the stream they washed in, and saw huge red salmon. He moved to flick a twig off his arm, stopped just in time: it was an insect, a three-inch walking stick, so still it might be dead. He was tempted to drop it in the water to see if the fish would take it; but he saw Coquina glance at him, and felt ashamed. Why did he have this urge to hurt, to torture, an innocent insect? He transferred it to a leaf and watched it tread carefully away.

No biting creatures infested the night air. They slept side by side in twin bags on an aromatic bed of fern. Aton half awoke, briefly, to the call of an owl, and saw his slave in slumber, a light strand of hair over her face. The beauty of her features was classic, even so. It struck him that he could appreciate it without untoward thought, and this was new, for him.

Daylight, sunny and bright in sections as they tramped among mixed fir and palm and hardwood. This was a forest to enjoy at leisure; but Aton drove himself hard, trying to banish his problems by sheer physical effort. Coquina kept pace without complaint as the way grew steeper.

Great mossy roots tied down the twisting trail. He doubled his effort, pushing up the mountain, an energumen, until the muscles of his legs were weary and his head grew faint. The slave followed, saying nothing but never falling back.

Aton became genuinely curious. His youth on Hvee, in gravity possibly fifteen per cent greater than Earth-normal, had guaranteed his strength. Genetics in the laboratory had strengthened his body generations before he was born. In ordinary gravity he could perform feats that would astound the uninitiated, and the years in space had only slightly impaired his stamina. For this was where it showed: no normal man could match the endurance of the modified, and among the women only the strange minionette had shown comparable power. Certainly a soft pleasure-world such as this was not the place to find a really durable woman.

That second evening, far up the slope where the gusting wind was cold, he feigned a greater weariness than he felt. He threw himself down and pretended to sleep. He watched Coquina.

She went about the preparation of the meal without sign of undue fatigue, though the bounce was gone. A glance in his direction apparently convinced her that he was sleeping soundly; she came and rolled him into a more comfortable position and placed a pad of moss under his head. She did not try to wake him.

What made the girl so strong? She should have dropped from exhaustion long ago. But not only did she stay with him, she handled the routine chores as well. Did she also stem from modified stock? Did a slave on Idyllia really conform to the ancient virtue of the species: having the advantages of wife and workhorse combined, without any liabilities?