He awoke with a start, the grayness of dawn around him, aware of a touch on his shoulder. He rolled over to see the girl, Darras, there.

“What is it?” He choked out the words, filled with fear.

“You must come now.” She turned and hurried away and he rose and ran after her, passed her and threw open the skin entrance to their tent.

“Armun!”

“It is all right,” her voice spoke from the darkness. “Nothing is wrong. Come see your daughter.”

He pulled the flap wide and in the faint light saw that she was smiling up at him.

“I was so worried,” she said. “I had the great fear that the baby would be like me, with my lip, but now that fear is gone.”

He dropped down beside her, weak with relief, and turned back the skins from the baby’s face. It was wrinkled and red, eyes shut, mewling faintly.

“It is sick—something is wrong!”

“No. That is the way babies always look when they are born. Now we will sleep, but only after you put a name to her. It is known that a baby without a name is in very great danger.”

“What will her name be then?”

“That is not for me to decide,” she said with firm disapproval. “She is your daughter. You must name her. A girl’s name, one that is important to you.”

“Armun, that is a name of great importance to me.”

“That is not done, two of the same name. The best name is of someone who died who was of importance.”

“Ysel.” The name came to his lips without his bidding; he had not thought of her for years. “She died, I lived. Vaintè killed her.”

“Then that is a very good name. That she died so that you might live is the most important name I have ever heard. Ysel and I will sleep now.”

The sunshine was warm, the air fresh, the day new, all of existence as it should be. Kerrick strode with happiness to the shore to wash and plan for the day. There was much to be done before they left. But leave they would, just as soon as Armun was ready. She would decide. He must get everything ready for that day. He splashed water over his face, spluttered and rubbed. Wiped his eyes with his forearm and saw the first rays of sun shining between the trees, striking warmly across the sand.

To Imehei’s still form stretched out in the water. Nadaske was already at his side, sitting in frozen Yilanè immobility.

The day was no longer bright. Kerrick walked over slowly, in silence, stood in silence and looked down at the immobile Imehei. He was breathing slowly through his half-opened mouth. A bubble of saliva formed, then vanished. Nadaske moved one eye to look at Kerrick, then away again.