Gunugul agreed at once. The enteesenat that accompanied and fed the uruketo came swimming back at great speed when it made a long, slow turn in the sea. They leapt clear of the water, splashed back down, swam ahead of it until darkness. During the night they drifted with the current, as did their immense charge, and in the morning they followed as it approached the island’s sandy shore.

“Mountains and forest,” Vaintè said. “Fresh water and good hunting. This could be a refuge. We must look at all of the shoreline.”

“How long will it take you to circle the island?” Fafnepto asked.

Gunugul signed lack of knowledge/dependent upon size. “Some days at least.”

“Then I will go ashore, there by that promontory,” Fafnepto said. “I have been too long in the ocean, too long from the forest. It is my greatest wish to see the animals of this new side of the earth. I will be at this place when you come back.”

“You will take food?” Gunugul asked.

“Only my hèsotsan. I will have fresh meat ready for your return.”

The hunter, her weapon held high, slipped into the water and swam easily ashore. The uruketo continued along the coast, Vaintè and the commander on the fin looking closely at the beaches and cliffs as they moved by. It was too much to expect that they would find their prey this easily, this quickly. Nevertheless the hunt had begun. Vaintè no longer felt only a passenger, was now a participant.

There were bays and natural harbors; they probed each one. When they rounded the island’s tip two days later the uruketo had to be forced out of the current that it had been following.

“It is the warm water,” Gunugul said, “flowing up from the south. The creature likes the warmth. Look there, you can see the edge of the stream, the different color. It is like a river in the ocean. That is how we find our way, by following the currents.”

Vaintè was watching the shore, half heard the commander’s comments.

“Are there other islands to the south of this one?” Gunugul asked. “There are none marked on my chart. Has that area been explored?”

“I have no knowledge of any more islands. Certainly I saw none the other times I came this way.”

“Perhaps we should search further to the south as well,” Gunugul said, looking out at the empty ocean. Vaintè joined her, gazing out at the blue water, the bank of white clouds on the horizon. Further south? There might very well be more islands there. For a moment she hesitated, then signed firmness of decision.

“There is nothing there. Enge, the one who leads them, knows the shores to the north and it is in that direction that they will have fled. But we must circle this island first. If they are not here we will then continue to the north. It is there that we will find those we seek.”

And those whom I seek. Her body was rigid, the thought came unbidden. She was here at Saagakel’s behest, to search for Enge and the scientist, Ambalasei, and the uruketo. She and the Eistaa were as one in this search. But Kerrick was out there too, and she would find him. As she hated the Daughters she hated him. Perhaps more strongly, because twice he had succeeded in defeating her. Not a third time. When she found him, that would be the end.

The small plant-eating marag hung by one of its back legs from the tree, mouth gaping in death. Kerrick finished flaying it, then cut off the dangling rear leg. It was fleshily round and made very good eating. He wrapped it in a large leaf which he sealed shut with thorns. When this was done he wiped his flint knife clean on the grass, then took up the bloody fragments of skin and carried them to the pit behind the trees. Flies rose up in buzzing protest when he threw the skin in among the bones and other rubbish. He fanned them away from his face, then went and washed his hands clean in the nearby stream.

When he returned he saw that the tent was still empty, Armun had not returned yet with the baby: he was annoyed at himself for his feeling of relief. If he wanted to see Nadaske that was no concern of others. But of course it was. Armun no longer protested aloud at his visits, but her silences spoke louder than words. Louder and longer silences when he took Arnwheet with him. He had not done this for a very long time, perhaps because of what he knew would follow. He would take him today. The boy was very good with his bow; perhaps they would find some game. He would take the hèsotsan only for protection from predators and let Arnwheet do all the hunting. This was the boy’s eighth summer: he would be getting a bigger bow soon.

As always there was the small thrust of fear when he took the hèsotsan from its nest of furs. Motionless and alive — or silent and dead? The tiny mouth opened when he prodded it, its teeth chewed slowly on the fragment of raw flesh. Seizing up the bundled meat he went looking for his son.

The young boys were always easy to find; you just listened for the shrill shouting. They were on the shore near the swamp now, crowing with victory. One of their snares had caught a good-sized bird. It could not escape because the snare on its ankle was secured to a heavy log, but could still hiss and snap at them, its wings beating furiously. Two of the boys were sitting on the overturned boat, nursing bloody fingers where the sharp serrated edge of the creature’s bill had cut them. Arnwheet called out happily when Kerrick came up.

“We caught it, Atta, all by ourselves, when it came to feed on the grass. Isn’t it fat?”

“Very. But are you sure that it didn’t catch you? It seems very much alive.”

“Kill it, sammadar,” one of the boys shouted and the others took up the cry. The bird looked at him with a wicked red eye and hissed again. He half raised the hèsotsan. But they were used only for killing invading murgu now. He handed the weapon to Arnwheet who took it proudly.

“Hold it as I showed you and do not touch the spot there.”

“I know, I know!”

He puffed his chest out and the other boys looked on jealously until Kerrick took out his knife and warily circled the bird. It turned to face him, bill gaping wide. One of the boys threw a stone which thumped into its side. It turned its head around and Kerrick seized its neck, cut its throat with a quick slash. It kicked and slumped into a huddle of gory feathers. The boys shrieked even more loudly and rushed forward. Kerrick retrieved the hèsotsan from his son.

“I am taking this meat to the island for Nadaske. You will come with me?”

Arnwheet squirmed and looked away. They were having such a good time here. Kerrick looked past him to the boys’ boat. He pointed to it. “You have been out in that?”

“Just into the swamp. The sammadars told us we could take it no further. Two boys did. They were beaten so hard they howled.”

“It is a very good thing that your father is a sammadar and does not have to worry about a beating. Run and get your bow and we will take the boat to the island. We will hunt.”

There was no disagreement now. Kerrick placed the hèsotsan carefully in the grass, then seized the edge of the small boat and turned it over. It had a definitely irregular interior and sat in the water at an odd angle. Still, it floated. There were two small paddles, little more than flattened lengths of wood, but they would do. There were hollowed out gourds as well, for bailing, and they undoubtedly would be needed. It might be wisest if they stayed close to shore. He pushed it into deeper water, retrieved the hèsotsan and climbed gingerly in. It rocked viciously and he shifted carefully about until it floated fairly level.

“Isn’t it a fine boat?” Arnwheet shouted as he ran up. He splashed into the water and almost overturned it as he climbed aboard. Kerrick made hasty corrections, then pointed to the gourds.

“I’m getting a wet bottom. Get rid of the water and let us try not to rock this thing too much.”