“Here and here are the two moons of change. Death of Summer, Death of Winter. Here the days get longer, here the nights begin to grow blacker. I looked at the moon when it rose last night and it was new—which means we are here in its travels.” He pushed the twig into the ground and sat back on his heels, well satisfied with the diagram. Kerrick voiced his ignorance.

“To you, mandukto of the Sasku, this means many things. Unhappily, wise Sanone, I see only sand and a twig. Read it for me, I implore you. Tell me if now, far to the north, has the ice broken and have the flowers opened?”

“They did that here,” Sanone said, moving the twig back in the circle. “Since then the moon has been full and full again.”

Kerrick’s remorse grew at this revelation. But when he thought about it some more he realized that summer had just begun, there would still be time. And there were so many things here that had to be done first. Then one night he dreamt of Armun and touched her split lip with his tongue and awoke shaking and determined to start at once to reach her, bring her here. The baby too, of course.

Good as his intentions were the tasks that had to be finished to make Deifoben inhabitable never seemed to end. One day ran into another, stretched on through the long days of summer, until, suddenly, it was autumn again. Kerrick was torn two ways then. Angry at himself for not making the time to leave and go north for Armun. Yet feeling a relief that it would be impossible to go now since he would never get there and back before the winter snows. He would plan better now, finish his work by early spring, have Sanone remind him of the passing days. Then go north and bring her here. At least she was safe, she and the baby; that gave him a feeling of security whenever he missed her the most.

* * *

Kalaleq was not frightened by the sudden appearance of the Tanu. He had met them before—and was also well aware that he was now in their hunting grounds. But he could see that the woman was afraid of him.

“Be without fear, snow-hair,” he called out, then laughed aloud to show how friendly he was. This had little good affect for the woman stepped back, still fearful, and raised her spear. As did the child with her. The baby on the travois began to cry lustily. Kalaleq lowered his eyes, unhappy that he had caused distress, then saw his hands and knife dripping with blood from the slaughter of the fur-creature that lay before him. He quickly dropped the knife and put his hands beind his back, smiling what he hoped was a friendly smile.