Kerrick saw this change in Armun, did not question it but accepted it with gratitude. It had not been a very happy sammad before the others had arrived. A lame hunter, a sad little girl, and two boys too different in age to really enjoy each other’s company. All this had changed. Darras was with her grandmother now, smiling and talking for the first time; she seemed to have finally forgotten the death of her own sammad. Kerrick just wished that Arnwheet was not so busy with his friends, that he could find the time to talk with Nadaske. Not that he went that often himself. It had been many days now since his last visit, so many days that he had forgotten just how long. This was no way to treat a friend. He cut a leg from the freshly killed deer that hung from the tree behind the tents, took his hèsotsan and walked the well-trodden path towards the ocean. He saw no one when he crossed the channel and made his way across to the smaller island. On the crest he looked out to sea, empty as always. The Yilanè kept to their city as Lanefenuu had promised. If he had brought the sammad here sooner, left Round Lake earlier, they would never have met the Yilanè hunters. And Imehei might still be alive. He shook his head to dislodge the thought. It was not worth thinking about: the past could not be changed. As he came through the brush he called out attention-to-speaking.

The shelter was there but it was empty. The hèsotsan was missing so perhaps Nadaske had gone hunting. Kerrick found some freshly cut leaves inside and put the meat on them. When he came out he found Nadaske waiting there. Kerrick curved his hand in appreciation.

“Nadaske is the forest creature who moves as silently as the wind. Were you hunting?”

“No. Hearing sounds of walking I went to place of hiding.” He put his hèsotsan inside and saw the meat. “Sweet flesh of dead animal magnified many times better than fish. Gratitude to efenselè.”

“I will bring some more again soon—but many things have been happening, it has been very busy. But why were you hiding? Playing a game from the hanalè?”

Nadaske’s mouth was too full of meat to answer at once; he chewed enthusiastically and finally was able to swallow. “Ten times ten times more pleasurable than fish. A hanalè game, yes we did play them. Boring/stupid. It is hard to think of that life now—or why we thought it had any pleasure. No, not a game. But small ustuzou have been here, threatening death-by-stone-tooth. Now I watch and hide.”

“They were here? Who, hunters like me?”

“No, not large ustuzou, but small like little/soft, or perhaps larger.”

“Some of the boys, that’s who it must have been. Did they attack you with their spears, throw them?”