“They lived, Imehei died. They killed him. I watched them being born in the water even when he was dead. The females, they are there on the shore, every one. I killed them. They, the females, they killed him. Now others of their kind are dead here.” He gestured towards the lake and snapped his thumbs together loudly. “Not the males. They are out there. If they live they will live free of these others. That is a chance they will have—that Imehei never had.”

There was nothing that Kerrick could say that would lessen Nadaske’s pain, that could change the terrible events of this day. He went back and found the deer where he had left it, brought it back.

In the city Imehei’s body would have been put to rest in one of the burial pits, where the roots of specialized plants would dissolve it, flesh and bones as well, restoring the nutrients to the city that had nurtured him. Here all that they could do was dig a grave in the soft sand beneath the conifer that stood behind camp, lay his body within it. Kerrick dragged up stones to cover the loose earth, to keep the animals from digging it up.

There was nothing here now for Nadaske. When Kerrick rolled his sleeping covers in the morning Nadaske came over to him and held out a small, leaf-wrapped bundle.

“Will you carry this for me? Exercise of care in transport/prevention injury.”

He opened the wrapping to disclose the wire sculpture of a horned nenitesk. Kerrick signed agreement/gratitude for trust, rewrapped it and put it carefully inside the skins.

“I will carry it safely, return it when we reach our destination.”

“Then let us leave.”

The sun was just over the trees when they started down the trail. Neither of them looked back at the empty beach.

TWELVE

“The fishing is good here,” the sammadar Kellimans said, stirring the fire with a stick.

“And the fishing is good in the ocean everywhere—because there are fish everywhere.” Herilak spoke sharply, trying to control his anger. “And will you still be able to fish here in the winter when it is so cold that the death-sticks die? You will have to leave then. So you could leave now.”

“When the cold comes, then we will leave,” Har-Havola said. “In this I agree with Kellimans. And fishing is good in the river also, not only in the sea.”

“If you like fish that much—you should live in the ocean with them!” Herilak snapped. “We are hunters, that is what we are, not fish eaters . . .”

“But the hunting is good here as well.”

“I think we can hunt better to the south,” Hanath called out. “Kerrick has done something important for us.”

“Like keeping us alive,” Morgil said. “We go with Herilak if he seeks to find him.”