He moved a few steps closer to her. 'You can break free of everything you've always taken for granted. You can put aside rules that bound you and kept you from thinking for yourself, rules that kept you from doing what you wanted, rules that actually kept you from doing what was best for yourself. Tats was someone your father chose, Thymara. I'm sure he's a very nice fellow in his own way, but he's not one of us and never will be. It was kind of your father to take him on and give him work after his criminal mother abandoned him. It probably kept him from becoming a thief himself. But all of that is in the past, Thymara. I am sure your father is a good man. But you are under no obligation to continue his kindness to Tats. Surely your family has already done enough for him? If he cannot take care of himself by now, then your putting more effort into him is a waste of your time. You've left your old life behind, Thymara, with your father's blessing.'

He edged closer to her as he spoke. She stepped back.

He halted where he was, considering her. He looked into her face, at the set, flat line of her mouth and her narrowed eyes and turned his head slightly, as if he would cajole her. Then he smiled and shook his head slowly. 'Not yet, perhaps, Thymara, but eventually. You'll see that you and I are more alike than any of the others. I'll let you take your time to discover that. We have a lot of time ahead of us.'

Then he dropped down on one knee beside her fallen elk and drew his knife. Without asking her permission, he began to work on cutting free a meaty hind quarter. He kept speaking to her as he worked, his voice deep and sometimes deeper with the effort of cutting. Her anger began to build but he didn't look at her and his words continued, his voice so reasonable. 'You've struck out on your own, to build something new for yourself. As we all have! You are not established with a home and possessions like your family was. You are making your own way in the world. You are making your own future. You will need, eventually, a partner who can pull his own share. You won't always be able to waste your time with halfwits and outsiders. You cannot afford to drag dead weight with you into that new future. I know you're angry now about what I'm telling you. But I don't have to prove it to you. The Rain Wilds will do that. All I have to do is wait.'

She pushed out her words and they came more forcefully than she intended. 'That is my kill and my meat. Get away from it.'

His knife didn't stop moving. 'Thymara, haven't you heard a word I said? We need to move into the future, not cling to a past that doesn't apply to us any more. Ask yourself honestly. Why are you so intent on running back to Tats and having him help you with this?'

'I like him. He's helped me in the past. He's my friend. If he made a kill like this, he would share it with me.'

He was still sawing away with his knife. She could tell it was dulling on the thick elk hide. He glanced up at her for a moment; there was no anger in his face, only interest. 'Would he? Or would he share it with Jerd? Open your eyes. You have a choice here. You could like me. I could help you, a lot more than Tats could, because ultimately you and I are far more alike than you and he could ever be. I could be your friend. I could be more than your friend.' He lifted his eyes to meet hers. His voice went deeper and softer on the last words.

Thymara hated how she reacted, how her belly clenched and a shiver went up her back. A handsome, older man had just as much as said that he wanted her. A man, not a boy. A powerful man, one who was assuming a leadership role among the keepers. 'Tats is my friend,' she managed to assert. She turned, refusing to see if he would listen to her. 'And that is my meat. Stay away from it.' She refused to think about his words, about any of his words. Jerd? Was there something Greft knew about Tats and Jerd that she did not? Push that thought away. Gripping her hunting weapons in one hand, she settled the loop of rope over her shoulder and trudged away from him. He let her go with no further words. She could not move swiftly; she had to push her way through low-growing bushes and dangling branches. She tried to move from hummock to hummock, avoiding the swampiest ground. It wasn't easy.

After a short time, the rope began to chafe on her shoulder. The meat she dragged seemed to snag on every stump or root tangle she passed and she had to give a strong jerk to break it free. By the time she saw the lighter foliage that indicated she was nearly at the river, she was sweaty, scratched and bitten by insects. She emerged into the swale of tall, coarse rivergrass and pushed on toward where she had left Skymaw sleeping. She'd give her dragon the meat first, and then go find Tats to help her bring the rest back. She smiled to herself, imagining Skymaw's surprise at a second hearty meal in one day.

But when she spotted her dragon, she wasn't alone. Skymaw was awake, though she still sprawled comfortably on the deep grass. Seated near her head on a wooden box was the Bingtown woman, dressed in loose trousers and a sensible cotton blouse. Next to her Sedric perched uncomfortably on a wooden crate labelled 'salt fish'. His lap-desk was on his knees. Paper and ink bottle were before him; his pen was moving swiftly over the paper. His trimly-fitting jacket was the colour of a bluefly. The white shirt he wore was open at his neck. He'd folded the cuffs of it back over his jacket cuffs, leaving his lean wrists and capable hands free to work. A single line marred his smooth brow. His mouth was pursed slightly, his brows knit in concentration. Alise was apparently dictating the next phrase. Thymara heard '. . . crushing or severing the spine to kill it quickly.'

As she scented the meat, Skymaw's head turned and she lunged to her feet. That motion caused both Sedric and Alise to turn toward her. Skymaw gave her no greeting but simply took three strides and then fell onto the meat and began feeding. Alise's mouth went into an 'O' of surprise and then she laughed merrily, as if watching a favourite child indulge in a sweet. 'She's hungry again!' she called to Thymara, as if expecting the girl to share her pleasure.

'She's always hungry,' Thymara replied, trying not to sound sour. She felt an echo of assent from the feeding dragon. Sedric, at least, looked happy to see her. His eyes lit and his pursed lips became a welcoming smile.

'I'm so glad you're finally here. I looked everywhere for you earlier. This process will go a lot faster if you translate.'

She hated to disappoint him. 'I can't. I mean, I only brought part of the meat back with me. I have to find Tats and have him help me with the rest before scavengers take it.' She tried not to imagine that a two-legged scavenger was already hacking off parts of her kill. He wouldn't dare, she told herself. They were too small a company for anyone to steal openly from another. No one would tolerate it.

Would they?

Sedric had said something else. He was looking at her expectantly, waiting for a reply. The twist of anxiety in her belly made her suddenly dismiss him and his concerns. 'I have to find Tats and go back for the rest of the meat,' she said hastily, and refused even to wonder if that answered his question at all. She left them and headed toward the shore and the other dragons.

Behind her, Alise called out to her, 'Rapskal is looking for you!'

Thymara nodded, and kept on going.

Tats was not with Fente. The small green dragon was still dozing, and when Thymara tried to rouse her to ask if she knew where Tats was, the creature made a sincere snap in her direction. Thymara jumped back uninjured and left her quickly. She wondered uneasily if the dragon would have eaten her if she'd drawn blood. She knew from Skymaw that the green queen had a reputation for being vicious when provoked. It was something she should talk to Tats about. If she could find him.