“No!” Armun screamed. “I hate them, hate them here, don’t want them here again.”

“There are more important things for us to talk of and we need not concern ourselves with them now. What is important is that we are no longer safe in this place. If hunters from the city could come this far they are sure to be followed by others. One day they will come.”

“They came because of those two, their own kind, you must kill them quickly…”

Kerrick’s temper rose to meet hers, but he controlled it because he knew why she was so disturbed. The baby was late, she was sick, worried. He had to understand. She needed reassuring.

“It will be all right. We must wait until the baby is born, until you feel better. Then we will all leave here, go north, we cannot stay if the hunters are this close.”

“And what of these two murgu you care so much for?”

“They stay here. We go without them. That is enough now. I am hungry and want food. And look at this — we have three more death-sticks. It will be all right.”

All right for them, he thought as he chewed the cold meat. But what about the males? They must stay here. With Imehei immobile in the lake it would be impossible for them to leave. Yet the rest of his sammad must go as soon as possible. That was all there was to it. There was no choice.

It was late in the afternoon of the next day before Nadaske finally appeared with Imehei in tow. He was exhausted and moved one slow stroke at a time, floating and resting often. Kerrick took up Nadaske’s hèsotsan and went to help him, stopping Arnwheet when he tried to follow. The boy did as he had been ordered, stood and gnawed his knuckles, worried and insecure, knowing only that something bad had happened to his friends. He watched in unhappy silence as the unconscious Imehei was dragged up onto the shore, until his head rested on the sand with the lower part of his body still in the water.

Kerrick thought that he was unconscious until his lips moved and he said something with languid motions of his arms. It was as though he were talking in his sleep for his eyes never opened.

“Food… desire to eat… hunger.”

Nadaske went to fetch fresh fish from the little holding pond that they had dug with such great effort. He tore pieces from the fish and pressed them into Imehei’s gaping mouth. Who slowly closed his jaws and chewed placidly.

“How long will he be like this?” Kerrick asked.

“A long time. There is no count to the days that I know. Others may know, it is no knowledge that I have.”

“And at the end of that time?”

Nadaske made a shrugging motion of hope/fear, knowledge/ignorance. “The eggs break, the elininyil feed, they enter the lake. Imehei lives or dies. Only then will we know.”

“I am going to have to leave with the others, as soon as Armun can travel, to go north. It will be dangerous to remain here.”

Nadaske rolled one eye in his direction and signed suspected knowledge. “It was my consideration you would do that. Others are sure to follow those who were killed. They may hunt in this direction. I cannot come with you.”

“I know that. But I will come back for you, for both of you, as soon as we have found a safe place.”

“I believe you Kerrick Yilanè/ustuzou. I have learned how you feel about these things and I know that you must consider your own ustuzou efenburu first. Take them to safety.”

“We will talk of this again. It will be some days yet before we can leave.”

When Kerrick started back he found that Ortnar had stumbled down to the beach and was waiting for him.

“The baby is coming soon. She told me to tell you that. I know nothing of these things and cannot help you.”

“Guard us from harm, Ortnar, that is what a strong hunter can do. I know as little as you do of these matters, but I must try to help her.”

He turned and hurried away. This was a day of many events. One who was perhaps moving towards death, one surely coming into life.

Darras looked up when he came in but never let go of Armun’s hand. Armun smiled wearily, her hair soaked and perspiration beading her face.

“Do not look so worried, my hunter. It is a late baby but a strong one. Do not worry.”

He was the one who should be comforting her, he realized, not the other way around. But this matter was beyond his knowledge. It was the women who always took care of it themselves.

“We should never have left the other sammads,” he said. “You should not be here on your own.”

“I do what many women have done before. My own mother, our sammad was small, no other women. This is the way things are, have always been. You must go, eat and rest. I will send Darras for you when it is time.”

Kerrick could say nothing, do nothing. He went out to the fire where Orhiar was cooking meat. He looked up, then hacked off a piece and gave it to Kerrick who chewed it in silence. Harl and Arnwheet, their faces well smeared with grease, sat across from him finishing their meal. Ortnar stared out at the gathering darkness, then signalled to Harl who rose and kicked sand over the fire. They must stay on their guard, particularly now.

The moon was out, the night warm, marsh birds calling quietly to each other as they settled down. Kerrick could just make out the dark form of Imehei where he rested half in and half out of the water at the lake’s edge. He knew that there was nothing he could do now for the males, nothing.

He heard a murmur of voices behind him in the tent and turned to look. But there was darkness, only darkness. Kerrick threw the unfinished meat away; he suddenly had no appetite. He blamed himself for what was happening now. The baby might die, worse, he dared not think about it, Armun might die, because of him. If he had returned to the sammads with the others they would all still be together. The other women knew how to take care of things like this. It was all his fault.

He climbed to his feet, unable to sit still, torn by fear and worry, walked under the tree to stare out at the lake in the moonlight. He looked but did not see it, saw only his inner fears. They should not be here. They should have been with the sammads now, safe in the valley of the Sasku, all safe.

The poisonous murgu vines rimming the Sasku valley had turned brown, then died and fallen to the valley floor. They had been pushed into the river and washed away, vanished from sight along with the memories of the last murgu attack.

Herilak sat by the fire turning the shining knife over and over in his hands. Kerrick’s knife of skymetal. He had worn it always about his neck, hanging from the solid metal band the murgu had put there. Across the fire from him Sanone nodded and smiled.

“In my ignorance I thought it meant his death,” Sanone said.

“His life and our life, that is what it means.”

“At first I could not believe you, lived with the fear that Kadair had deserted us, that we had strayed from the path he prescribed for us.”

“I care nothing for your Kadair, Sanone, only for Kerrick who saved us. I hold this knife so I will not forget what he did…”

“I am not pleased when you talk of Kadair that way.”

Herilak stared across the fire at the old man, spoke his mind because the two of them were alone and had come to understand each other.

“I care as little for your Kadair as you do for Ermanpadar who guides the Tanu. That is the truth. Now we put aside this talk of the invisible powers that control our lives and talk instead of what we ourselves must do. I talk instead of two of my hunters…”

“I will not hear their names, do not speak them aloud for their offense was great. The porro sacred to Kadair, they stole it and drank it.”

“To you sacred, to them a very interesting thing to do. The other hunters envy them and have asked me to ask you for more of this drink.”