‘What if I just stayed here?’ she asked the night quietly. ‘Clean water. The firmest land I’ve ever seen; there is sand in the creek bottom, not muck. The hunting should be good. What do I need that I couldn’t find here?’

‘Company?’ Tats suggested from the darkness. She turned and saw him as a silhouette against the orange firelight. ‘Or have you had enough of people? Mind if I join you?’

She moved over on the log instead of answering him. She wasn’t sure what her answer would have been.

‘By now, he would have had everyone up and jigging with him,’ Tats said to the night.

She nodded silently. Tats reached over and picked up her hand. She let him. He handled it in the darkness, sweeping his thumb across her palm, counting her fingers with his. He ran his nails lightly over her claws. ‘Remember when you thought these were a bad thing to have?’ he asked conversationally.

She drew her hand back into her lap, suddenly self-conscious. ‘I’m not sure I ever really thought that. They’ve always been useful to me. I just knew I’d have to live with everyone else thinking they’d limit me.’

‘Yes, well, more than once on this expedition, I’ve wished I had claws like you.’ Matter-of-factly, he recaptured her hand, and warmed it between both of his. It felt good; she hadn’t known it ached until he gently rubbed it and soothed the ache away. Tension began to seep out of her body. He slid a little closer to her. ‘Give me your other hand,’ he told her, and she complied without thinking about it. He held her hands in both of his, rubbing them gently.

For a time, they were silent. The noises from the bonfire came to them, and one of the dragons hooted in alarm about something, but it wasn’t Sintara, and she ignored it. When Tats put one of his arms across her shoulders and pulled her closer to lean on him, she allowed herself to do so. He rested his cheek on her hair. She wasn’t surprised when he ducked his head in to kiss her. It was easy to allow him to do that, easy to let the spreading warmth of sensation drive all thoughts from her mind.

The second time his hand brushed her breast, she knew it wasn’t an accident. Did she want to do this? Yes. She refused to think that it might lead to things she wasn’t ready to allow him. She could always say ‘no’ if it came to that. She didn’t need to say it yet.

He kissed the side of her neck, her throat, and she leaned back, letting him. His mouth slid lower and suddenly a voice said, ‘Well, it appears a decision has been reached.’

They leapt apart, Tats coming to his feet and whirling to face Greft. His hands were already cocked into fists. ‘You spying sneak!’ he hissed.

Greft laughed. ‘Turn about is fair play. Ask Thymara.’ He turned around, ignoring Tats’ physical challenge. ‘I’ll tell the others for you,’ he offered. ‘I think they’ve a right to know.’ He walked away.

‘Nothing has been decided. Nothing!’ Thymara shouted after him.

He laughed mockingly, and continued on his way back to the fire. He favoured one hip as he walked, and Thymara selfishly hoped that his Rain Wild changes were making him ache.

‘That bastard,’ Tats said with feeling. Then he turned to her and cocked his head. ‘Nothing?’ he asked her.

‘It’s … it’s not a decision,’ she said. ‘We were just kissing.’

In the darkness, with no touch joining them, he seemed very far away from her. ‘Just kissing?’ he asked her. ‘Or just teasing?’ He crossed his arms on his chest. She could barely see him in the dimness.

‘I wasn’t teasing,’ she said defensively. More quietly she added, ‘I wasn’t thinking about what we were doing.’

For a time, he was quiet. Her body still tingled from his touch. She thought of stepping closer to him, of letting him resume where he had left off. Perhaps he was thinking the same thing, for he suddenly said, ‘Thymara. Yes or no?’

She didn’t have to think about it. She forced herself to speak quickly before she could change her mind. ‘No, Tats. It’s still no.’

He turned and walked back to the bonfire, leaving her alone in the darkness.

After two days of steady rain, the weather had suddenly changed. Bright blue skies overhead gave a false promise that summer might return. The fog and the clouds drew back, revealing changes in the countryside. The river had changed gradually, with the far bank advancing slowly back towards them. Perhaps, Leftrin thought, they had finally passed through the remains of the wide lake that the dragons had spoken of. But it was just as likely, he told Swarge, ‘that nothing is as they remember it. And anything that they tell us of how things used to be can be worse than useless to us. If we rely on it instead of our own river sense, and they’re wrong, we could go nosing into all sorts of trouble.’

Swarge had nodded gravely but said nothing, as was usual with him. Leftrin hadn’t really expected any conversation from him, but would have welcomed more than a nod. He felt he’d been left too much alone with his own thoughts lately. Alise had been quiet for days, almost withdrawn. Oh, she smiled at him, and once or twice, she had taken his hand, so he did not think she was seriously regretting their interlude together. But she had shown no signs of attempting another rendezvous.

The one night that he had tapped softly on the door of her darkened cabin, she had not answered him. After a time of anxious loitering, he had cursed himself for acting like a silly boy. She had shown him that when she wanted him, she’d make it plain. He’d not dangle outside her door when she did not.

Once when he’d found her silent and morose, staring over the bow, he’d dared to ask if what was troubling her had to do with him. She’d shaken her head so hard that the tears flew from her cheeks. ‘Please,’ she’d said. ‘Please don’t ask me about it. Not now. It’s something I have to cipher out for myself, Leftrin. If I feel I can tell you about it, I will. But for now, I have to bear it alone.’