“See — here and here, they have bent the twigs as a sign for those who came after them. And that could be a track.”

“An animal track,” Kerrick said.

“That too, but Tanu have come this way as well.” Morgil was down on all fours and sniffing at the ground. “They have, they must have gone there by the water.”

The trail here skirted a vast bay, then crossed a river. Instead of staying with the rutted track they went along the river until Morgil smelled the air.

“Smoke!” he shouted. “There are Tanu here.”

It was dusk before they came to the other sammads, the same ones that had been left behind when Herilak and his sammad had gone south. They called out and the hunters came running, the sammadar Har-Havola in the lead.

“We searched, never found you,” he said.

“You did not go far enough south,” Kerrick said.

“We are far enough south here. There is no snow in the winter, the hunting and fishing are good.”

“And your death-sticks — they live?”

“Of course. One was stepped on and died. The others are as they always were.”

“Then we have much to tell you. Our death-sticks died, but we now have others.”

Har-Havola was distressed. “You must speak to us of this. Come, we will eat, there will be a feast. There are many good things to eat here and you will try them all.’

They stayed one day, then another with the sammads, until on the third day it was decided that they must leave. “The trail is long,” Kerrick said. “And we must go to the north and return as well.”

“When next we hunt we will go to the south,” Har-Havola said. “We will find your sammads on the island you have spoken of, tell them we have seen you. But we will keep our death-sticks from theirs as you have warned. May your journey be short, may you return in safety.”

They went on through the heat of summer. Yet the fall of the year was coming closer every day, and every day they were that much further north. It was cool before dawn now, the dew lay thick upon their sleeping skins. When the deep ruts of the track they were following led to the shore, the ocean lay before them, slate gray under a gray sky. They sniffed the salt spray blowing in from the breaking waves and Armun laughed out loud.

“It is cold and damp — but I like it.”

Hanath shouted with pleasure and hurled his spear in a high arc, far down the beach where it stuck upright in the sand. He dropped his pack and ran to get it, Morgil shouting and running after him. They came back, panting and happy.

“I’m glad we made this journey,” Kerrick said. “Even if the Paramutan aren’t there, it was still worth coming.”

“They will be there. Did not Kalaleq say they would return, that no ocean was too wide to stop him?

“Yes — and he also said if he had no boat he would swim the ocean. The Paramutan are great braggarts.”

“I hope that they come.”

They followed the beach towards the north, building their fire that night in the lee of the sand dunes. The rain that began to fall after dark was cool and the fog that rolled in from the sea was damper and even cooler. Autumn was not too far away.

In the morning Kerrick stirred the fire and put the last of the wood upon it. The salt-encrusted driftwood crackled and burnt fiercely with yellow and blue flames. Armun spread their skins before it to dry. The two hunters still lay wrapped in theirs, reluctant to emerge. Kerrick poked them with the butt of his spear and elicited only groans.

“Up!” he called out. “We need some more wood for the fire. Beasts of great laziness — emerge!”

“You had better get it yourself. Armun said.

He nodded agreement and pulled the wet madraps onto his feet, then trudged to the top of the dune. The rain had stopped and the fog was burning off, clear rays of sunlight touched color from the sea. There was fresh seaweed, shells and other debris at the high tide mark. Any wood there would be too wet. But there was an entire dead tree further along the beach. He would break some branches from that. Kerrick sniffed the sea air and looked out beyond the breakers and spray. Something dark rode up on a wave, then was gone. He dropped to the sand — was it an uruketo? What were Yilanè doing this far to the north? He shielded his eyes and tried to find it again among the whitecapped waves.

There it was — but not an uruketo at all.

“A sail!” he shouted. “A sail, out there — the Paramutan are out there!

Armun ran to join him, the two hunters finally aroused stumbling up behind her.

“It is a sail,” she said. “But they are going south. What are they doing out there?”

“The seaweed,” Kerrick shouted. “Hanath — run and get some, wood too, even if it is wet. Build up the fire so they can see the smoke!”

Kerrick stirred the fire until it burned fiercely as the two hunters staggered back with their burdens. He spread the seaweed out thinly on top, so that it crackled and smouldered but did not extinguish the fire; white clouds of smoke boiled skyward.

“They are still going south,” Armun cried. “They haven’t seen it.”

“Bring more!

The fire roared and the column of smoke thickened and climbed higher before Hanath shouted from the beach.

“They have stopped, they’re turning, they’ve seen it now.”

They watched from the top of the dune as the ikkergak wallowed in the water, sail flapping, then came about on the other tack with the big sail billowing full. It came racing towards the shore, rose up on the waves and was carried forward with a rush, onto the sand in a flurry of foam. Dark figures waved and shouted to them while one of them hung tight to the bow. Let go and dropped into the sea, splashed ashore. The two hunters hesitated but Kerrick and Armun ran across the sand towards the ship.

A wave washed over the Paramutan and he stood up, dripping and spluttering and calling out with joy.

“Here, not believed, hair of sunshine, friends of years.”

“Kalaleq!” Kerrick shouted as the Paramutan staggered, laughing, from the sea. He seized Kerrick’s arms and shook them, turned to Armun and shouted with joy, put his arms around her as well, until she had to push him away as his strong fingers seized her bottom.

“Where were you sailing to?” she asked him.

“South — but too hot, see I wear nothing but my fur.” When she looked down he let his tail drop to reveal his privates but she slapped his arm and he lifted it into place again. The Paramutan never changed.

“Why — south?” Kerrick asked, clumsily, trying to remember the complex language.

“To seek hunters. We waited on the beach to the north but none came. We have hides and many good things. Then we thought to look further south, look for hunters. Never thinking that friends would await us here.”

Hanath and Morgil came close and there were mutually incomprehensible greetings. Other Paramutan soon joined them. Shouting with pleasure and bringing the inevitable gifts of raw and rotten fish. Morgil’s eyes bulged and watered as he forced himself to swallow a vile mouthful. Then they all went to the fire to share the fresh meat there. Kerrick cut off pieces of raw meat from yesterday’s kill and these were received with cries of intense pleasure. Kalaleq gobbled his down, smearing his face with blood, while he told Armun everything that had happened since they had parted.

“The kill is good, the ularuaq fill the sea so full you can walk across it on their backs. All the women have had babies, sometimes three and four at a time. We have found how to catch and kill the big birds. And how is it for you here? You must tell me so I can tell Angajorqaq for she will beat me savagely if I do not remember and tell her everything.”

“We are all together, there is peace. There are babies — but not like the Paramutan for we do not lie as well as the Paramutan. But all is well.”

When all of the meat was gone the Paramutan ran to the ikkergak, now beached by the receding tide, and rooted out the bundles of hides. Hanath and Morgil brought their knives and spearheads to the beach and, with much excitement and shouting, the trading began. Armun was in great demand for translation. Kerrick sat down on the dune away from all the turmoil and Kalaleq came over to join him. The language was coming back to Kerrick now and talking was easier.