"I-I'll come back when you're feeling better." She heard Alfin's

distress and guilt, then quiet. When she forced herself to look, she saw him weaving among the sleepers-stealthily?-to reach the far edge of the bark.

She had lost her home, her family, her friends; she was lost in the sky, cast among strangers. Copsik! How could he inflict such a decision on her now? Filthy treefeeding copsik!

The tears were drying on her face. At least no Triune Squad companion had seen her so shamed. It came to her that her tears had driven Alfin away. . . just as they had been her primary defense when she was fourteen.

But what could she do? She hadn't been quite fair to the old man. He had spoken a partial truth, one she'd already considered: marriage was the way into Quinn Tribe.

-And she found that she had made her decision after all.

Dared she sleep now? She must. The sun was a hand's breadth past Voy; and she curled up and slept.

When the sun neared Voy again, Minya woke. Some had the knack.

Minya could tell herself when to sleep and when to wake, and she would.

She flexed muscles without moving much. She was thirsty. There was restless motion around her. The Grad seemed to be having a nightmare.

She watched until he was quiet.

Alfin shook Gavving awake, then Merril. He settled down while Gayving disappeared to his post on the far side. Minya waited a little longer, for Jayan and Alfin to fall asleep.

Alfin clutched the bark with all his fingers and toes and, for all Minya could tell, his teeth. His face was pressed to the bark, denying the sky.

He'd never sleep that way; but he wouldn't see her either.

She uncurled and made her way to the edge of the bark. Merril watched her go. Minya waved and pulled herself around to the smooth side of the bark sheet.

Gavving saw her coming. He started moving away from her-to give her privacy? She called, "Wait! Gavving!"

He paused.

"Gavving, I want to talk to you."

"All right." But he was wary.

She didn't want that. "I don't have any weapons," she said, and then, "Oh. I'll prove it."

"You don't have to-"

She pulled her blouse over her head and moored it to the bark. She came closer, wishing for toeholds to let her walk upright. This crawling

lacked the dignity she wanted. At least she'd shed the lumpy-pregnant look of the Triune Squad.

She said, "There are no pockets in my pants. You can see that. I want to tell you why I can't go back to Dalton-Quinn Tuft."

"Why?" He was trying to keep his eyes off her breasts, on her face. "I mean, I'm willing to listen. I've got a name for asking embarrassing questions." He tried to laugh it stuck in his throat. "But shouldn't everyone hear this?"