The closed and skeptical look on Shria’s face softened as ve stared at Fift. Ve yanked the last of the mossy sticks from the pile (in zir other body, Fift yanked the log free from a knot of underbrush; there, ze could hear the sounds of the campsite through the trees. They were building the bonfire). Shria raised one of vir thick, curling eyebrows.

“You’d better plan on being the Older Sibling, though,” Umlish said, “because Shria doesn’t want any Younger Siblings. Ve was glad to get rid of that little baby—weren’t you, Shria?”

Shria blinked. Vir nostrils flared with a long indrawn breath. Vir eyes were still locked on Fift’s—drawing strength? Then ve turned to Umlish. “Don’t spit all your poison today, Umlish,” ve said. “You might run out, and then what are you going to do tomorrow?”

Umlish drew zirself up, scowling. “You sluiceblocking—”

“You used ‘sluiceblocking’ already,” Shria said. “See? You’re running out.”

“Let’s go back, Umlish,” Kimi said. “We don’t want to miss them lighting the fire . . .”

Fift cleared zir throat. Zir hearts were pulsing, unstaidishly fast.

“Don’t tell me what—” Umlish snapped.

“You could try ‘flowblocking,’” Fift said.

Shria’s eyes lit up. “That’s kind of the same thing, though,” ve said, chewing vir lip.

“Corpsemunching?” Fift said.

Shria giggled. “That’s good! What’s that from? Yes, call me a ‘corpsemunching sisterloser,’ Umlish.”

“‘Sisterloser!’” Fift’s eyes widened. “Wow!”

Shria grinned, a glimpse of white teeth between pale lavender lips. “You like that one?”

Fift dragged zir log into the clearing. Perjes and Tomlest ran up to take it from zir and toss it onto the pile.

Umlish’s face was a mask of anger.

Puson cleared zir throat.

“See there, Umlish?” Shria said, clapping zir on the shoulder. “You don’t need to worry. If you run out, we’ll help you.”

“Get your hands away from me!” Umlish cried. “You’re disgusting!” Ze turned and swept up the path, followed by Puson. Kimi, released from the agony of waiting, darted ahead towards the campsite, zir bodies caroming off each other, running a few bodylengths before remembering to slow down to a more sedate and proper pace.

Fathers Frill and Smistria had finished breakfast and wandered off. Father Grobbard was waiting, still, watching Fift with zir immovable serenity. It seemed like ze was waiting for something.

It was turning colder. When Umlish, Puson, and Kimi were gone, Shria exhaled, a brief exhausted sigh: it came out as a plume of white fog. Vir shoulders slumped.

They were lighting the fire. Brushing bits of bark from zir hands, Fift found a place on a rock, not too far and not too near, and settled onto it. The expedition director, a fussy two-hundred-year-old middleborn Staid, was anxiously directing the two Vails holding the lighted torch. Kimi rushed up the path, walking just slower than a run, eyes wide with expectation.