Anna was nearly done, had a nice pile of dirt in the center of the floor, and was actually facing the doorway, when she looked up and saw Elder Raven as he silently approached on the path to the porch. He paused on the doorstep.

She opened her mouth to greet him, but what came out was not English. “Tohiju, Disquadisgi Kolvnv?” she heard herself asking.

Elder Raven raised an approving eyebrow, and his son actually chuckled. “Thank you, I am very well, little sister,” he said in his own tongue. “We have brought mushrooms, as we promised your aunt we would do.” He set a split-willow basket on the table, full to overflowing with several kinds of mushrooms.

“Aunt Jinny’s cleaning out the winter storage cave,” she replied, struggling for words for “root cellar,” and settling on an approximate term. But before she could say anything further, her aunt came in behind Young Raven to speak for herself.

“You brought mushrooms! I’m greatly obliged,” said her aunt, also in fluent Cherokee. “Did you want more honey or jam in return, or is there something I can get for you when we go into Ducktown?”

“Into Ducktown? So, your student grows strong enough to bear the evil of that place?” Elder Raven asked in surprise.

“I expect her to be ready,” Jinny said calmly. “It will be in half a moon, more or less, whenever young Joshua finishes what he is working on.”

“Well then, in that case, coffee, please.” Old Raven smiled broadly. “It is the one vice of the white man I find harmless, useful, and pleasurable. Especially on chilly or damp mornings, when I find it increasingly unwelcome to get out of bed, otherwise.”

“It isn’t much of a ‘vice,’ then, is it?” Aunt Jinny joked.

But Anna’s mind was racing through deductions given the little bits of information she had just gotten. If he wanted coffee, then he surely had a coffee pot, or at least a pan with a handle to make it in. And if he found it hard to get out of bed, then it followed that he had a bed, and somewhere for that bed to be. So the Ravens probably weren’t living in a cave, or a bark hut. And there was supposed to be a Missus Young Raven too. So . . . well, why not ask? The worst that would happen would be that Aunt Jinny would scorch her hide—verbally—for being too inquisitive. “Sir?” she said, carefully. “May I please ask you a question?”

“Hmm,” Elder Raven replied, looking at her with great interest and some humor. “The fact that you ask me if you may causes me to think it will be impertinent.”

“Anna May!” her aunt rebuked sharply, but Elder Raven waved a hand at her.

“I should like to hear the question,” he said. “I may or may not answer it.”

“How many of you Cherokee are there?” she asked. “Back there in the Holler, I mean.”