Moses had strong-armed Liam into form on Liam’s first morning in Newenham, and in memoriam to that diminutive, irascible old shaman the two of them continued to practice together each and every morning they woke up in the same place. Moses was gone now, killed by a stray bullet, one of a swarm of bullets loosed by an idiot who had no business anywhere near firearms, and, too late for Moses, never would be again.

Fist under elbow, step back and repulse monkey, slanting flying, raise hands, stork spreads its wings. Bill was gone, too. Bartender extraordinaire, local magistrate, longtime lover of Moses Alakuyak, and one of Wy’s few really close friends in Newenham. Bill had sold her bar the month after they buried Moses and made good on a lifelong threat to move to New Orleans. She had written to say that she’d bought a townhouse two doors down from the Terminator’s terminator. There had been no second letter so after a few months passed Wy had had Jim Wiley, Liam’s geeky friend in Anchorage, track down Bill’s phone number. Bill had answered on the first ring. She’d sounded pleased to hear from Wy but said she was on her way out the door to her new job tending bar. She name-dropped at least three Marsalises and one Neville, explained the Terminator reference, and hadn’t called back.

A vee of Canadian geese flew past, honking steadily, heading south to join up with other flocks at the mouth of the river. There they would spiral up into one gigantic flock and peel out south for warmer climes. It was a sight Wy looked forward to every year. Perhaps she would get a glimpse of them when she took off in the morning.

Left brush knee and twist step, needle at sea bottom, fan through the back, turn and white snake puts out tongue. A pair of eagles chirped and warbled at each other from adjoining treetops. One of them, as if in punctuation, lifted its tail and squirted a rich stream of yellow poop, just missing a parky squirrel. The squirrel said what he thought. The eagles responded with what sounded a lot like laughter, although Wy told herself she was anthropomorphizing. Something Alaskans often did as a matter of course, seeing as they were surrounded by wildlife designed by nature to eat them first chance it got. They were easier to live with if you ascribed human behavior to them.

Pull back, press forward, and push, single whip, all four fair ladies working at shuttles, and back into ward off left and through to push. As it always did the form steadied her, calmed her, focused her. Root from below, suspend from above. Her muscles loosened and stretched, supple, elastic, strong. She sank into single whip creeps down and stepped up to form seven stars. The chi that Moses had told them lived behind their bellies held her steady over her own center of gravity. That belly that would never hold a baby.