Under normal circumstances an integral tree is in equilibrium with the wind. A steady gale blows at each tuft, and no wind blows at its center. Air must move past a fire to keep it burning. But a tree under sail is moving, and there is wind. Coals reached the bark and blazed up.

Booce flapped hard toward a Logbearer already embedded in flame.

He hadn't panicked then. There was a hose, and pressure in the water tank, for the fire would be heating it. He would use the hose to spray water and steam on the fire. Booce breathed deeply as he flew, hyperoxygenating. He'd hold his breath while he worked. The danger was that he might breathe flame.

Wend crawled gingerly through the cabin door. Her feet were wingless, her eyes and mouth wide in terror. She saw Booce, gathered herself, and leapt toward him, into the sky.

The water tank ruptured.

Booce saw Wend blown outward in a wind of live steam laced with boiling water. He flapped to catch her, hearing his own howl. She was flying past him. He stretched impossibly and caught her bare ankle, and felt the scalded skin slide loose beneath his hand.

There were comforting hands on Booce, on his shoulders and arm and ankle, for touching was the way of Citizens Tree. Rather hung back, uncertain, reluctant to take such liberties. Booce was a mature adult.

Where was Carlot?

Booce was hoarse, for he had been shouting, howling; but he sounded almost calm now. "Everything's blurred after that. . . Lawri the Scientist was feeding me foliage and I couldn't remember anything. It all came back a bit at a time."

Rather eased away from the cookfire and flew toward Voy. Behind him Booce was speaking mostly to Debby, who was rubbing his temples.

"It never happened before . . . not to us. Sometimes a logging concern just disappears. We wonder why. We never find out. For Ryllin, for the girls, I should give it up. But logging's all I know ..."

The memories must have been too much for Carlot. If she wanted to hide ... a crack in the bark? Bark walls would muffle the agony in her father's voice. She might have gone in any direction . . . but the cracks ran out and in. Try in.

Rather coasted above the bark. He didn't mind being seen. She'd have kept going until she couldn't hear the words.

"Go away."

He somersaulted and kicked air to stop himself. "Carlot?"

No answer. It had come from his left, from the north. There: scarlet showed in a crack. He said, "I wouldn't have found you if you'd kept your mouth shut."

She was pulled into herself, like the shellbirds around the ice pond. Her wings were on her back. He fluttered into the crack beside her but didn't touch her. "It must have been bad."

"It was bad."

He tried again. "Want a hug?"

"I want Wend back."