The shelter was there but it was empty. The hèsotsan was missing so perhaps Nadaske had gone hunting. Kerrick found some freshly cut leaves inside and put the meat on them. When he came out he found Nadaske waiting there. Kerrick curved his hand in appreciation.

“Nadaske is the forest creature who moves as silently as the wind. Were you hunting?”

“No. Hearing sounds of walking I went to place of hiding.” He put his hèsotsan inside and saw the meat. “Sweet flesh of dead animal magnified many times better than fish. Gratitude to efensele.”

“I will bring some more again soon — but many things have been happening, it has been very busy. But why were you hiding? Playing a game from the hanalè?”

Nadaske’s mouth was too full of meat to answer at once; he chewed enthusiastically and finally was able to swallow. “Ten times ten times more pleasurable than fish. A hanalè game, yes we did play them. Boring/stupid. It is hard to think of that life now — or why we thought it had any pleasure. No, not a game. But small ustuzou have been here, threatening death-by-stone-tooth. Now I watch and hide.”

“They were here? Who, hunters like me?”

“No, not large ustuzou, but small like little/soft, or perhaps larger.”

“Some of the boys, that’s who it must have been. Did they attack you with their spears, throw them?”

“Shout and wave weapons, run away into trees.”

“I’ll take care of that,” Kerrick said grimly. “They know that they are forbidden to come here. They think they are very bold — but we will see about that. It won’t happen again.”

Nadaske worried the bone with his teeth, eating every fragment. He swallowed, gulped and signed sweetness of meat, sweetness of life. Kerrick was thinking about the boys, how to make sure the incident was not repeated, and it took a moment to understand what Nadaske was saying. With Tanu all about him now, the world of Yilanè was growing distant and alien. The great jaw and shining skin of Nadaske were so different from the Tanu. And the way he held the bone between opposed thumbs. A motion caught Kerrick’s eye and he saw a lizard dart across the clearing. Nadaske dropped the bone and the lizard stopped when it saw the motion. Still as a carving, motionless — just like Nadaske. They were equally different, equally alien.

“Something else occurred,” Nadaske said and the moment of strangeness was gone. This was Nadaske, his friend.

“What was that?”

“There was an uruketo.”

It was as though a chill wind had passed over him. “No! Here? Did they come ashore?”

“Negative-negative. It was out in the ocean, not near shore. It went north, then the next day came back in the other direction.”

“The same one?”

“Assumption positive, evidence negative.”

The sudden fear was ebbing. The Yilanè had not come ashore, it had nothing to do with the sammads. Of course there were uruketo in the ocean. But as long as the sammads stayed away from the shore there was nothing to fear. Yet it was like an omen, the same as seeing two black birds at the same time which meant there would be bad luck that day, that is what Armun said. That and never putting a knife down with the point towards you, also bad luck. He did not believe in omens.

“Have you seen uruketo before?”

“Once far out to sea.”

“I don’t think that we have reason to be alarmed. Alpèasak is south of us, along the coast. Uruketo, boats for fishing, they all use the port. As long as they don’t come ashore.”

“They won’t.” Nadaske moved a thumb in the direction of his teeth in the expression that means once bitten, you avoid the creature that bites. “The eistaa who cares for uruketo will remember the two dead on the shore. They stay in the city, we stay here, plenty of food for all.”

“You must be right. But it is hard to think that peace is ever possible between Yilanè and ustuzou.”

“There is peace between us. Probably because we are males; females cause all ills in world. Beware your females.”

Kerrick signed agreement and awareness. He had given up trying to explain the relationships of the Tanu sexes. Nadaske would never believe that he wasn’t following Armun’s instructions. “Time to return,” he said, climbing to his feet.

“Query of interest, desire Kerrick to see hèsotsan.”

Nadaske brought out the weapon and pointed to one of the curled and useless legs of the creature. “Smallness of change, occurrence of importance?”

Kerrick took the hèsotsan, the living weapon that was essential for their existence. Any change in the creature was a matter of concern. This one looked like all the others, shriveled eyes shut, atrophied limbs tight against its side. Once the creature had gone through its young and active stage, this permanent change took place. He looked at the leg, at the white dusting on the dark skin, brushed it with his fingertip.

“The skin is gray here, I see that. I don’t think I have ever noticed it before on one of these. Perhaps the creature is getting old. Do you know how long they live?”

“Knowledge lacking. Other than this mark, it functions as always.”

Kerrick took one of his own darts and inserted it under the flap of skin, pointed the hèsotsan towards the ocean and squeezed. There was the familiar crack of sound and the dart flew out in an arc. When he rubbed its lips the mouth slowly opened. It ate the scrap of meat he fed it.

“Seems to be normal in every way. There is no need to worry.”

“Every need to fear,” Nadaske took back the weapon and examined it closely. “No hèsotsan, no life. Death by eating from predators.”

“That is not a worry yet. Fears groundless, future filled with sun and meat.”

Kerrick started back to the camp. When he was out of sight of the shore he stopped and looked carefully at his own hèsotsan. It was normal.

But the seed of worry had been planted. He trotted across the island, eager to return.

He wanted to look closely at the other hèsotsan that the hunters used.

They never discovered what was causing the trouble; had no idea at all how they could stop it.

At first Kerrick’s fears proved unfounded. All of the hèsotsan he looked at appeared normal, without any trace of the gray skin that had been on Nadaske’s weapon. It must have been an accident, the creature had probably been injured. He put it from his mind because, like the other hunters, he was looking forward to the first bird hunt. There was more rain now, and fog some mornings. Old Fraken still had enough of his wits about him to observe that the days were indeed shorter; winter had returned to the north again. They could tell this even without Fraken’s aid, because large flocks of birds were now landing in the channels and marshes. They would circle, making a great noise, then land in wave after wave. They would never stay more than a day or two, just long enough to rest and feed before they started on their way south again. The log had been hollowed out and shaped, the boat was finished and it was time to start eating some of those countless birds.

Many hunters had worked to feed the fires that shaped the boat and each of them wanted to be first to use it. Before the quarrels broke out Kerrick decided that the four who would go must be chosen by chance, using a game the boys played. Straws were cut, all the same length, one for each hunter, and stood up in one of the newly baked pots. Four of them had their lower ends dipped in the dyesack of a hardalt and were stained purple. In turn each hunter drew one of the straws. There was much shouting, complaints from the losers and insults from the winners. In the end they all went to the boat, to load the nets and spread reeds over the four hunters so they would not be seen. They paddled out in midafternoon, disturbing the flocks already there. The hunters made no attempt to net any of these as they rose, but moved the boat into the shelter of the reeds. They would be ready when the newcomers arrived before dark.