At least she tried to. But since she ate at Merrith’s fire she must do as the older woman ordered. She brought wood and cut meat, scorched her hands turning it over on the coals. Merrith saw to it that there was good food waiting each evening when the hunters returned hungry and tired. But Armun did not want them laughing at her so she always found other things to do when they were gathered around the fire.

Although there was no snow, the rains came in the deepest part of winter. They were uncomfortable but not cold, and this discomfort was infinitely better than frozen forest and deep snow. Hunting patterns changed now, for the great herds of duck-bills had gone somewhere else upon the vast plain. Yet there were still murgu to hunt in the upland forest to the east, so hunting parties pushed farther and farther up into the hills. This was not without its dangers.

It was well after dark when the hunting party returned.

The days were very short now so this was not unusual; some hunters even stayed out overnight when pursuing game. But something was wrong this time for the returning hunters called out loudly when they came into sight of the camp, their ululating cries drawing everyone’s attention. Some of the hunters ran out to aid them when they called for help as well. When they came closer to the fires it could be seen that two of the hunters were being carried on litters made of poles and brushwood. Herilak led the way, grim-faced and tired.

“We were after the sharp-toed runners. A claw-marag was hidden under the trees. It attacked and did all this before we could kill it.” The first litter was dropped heavily to the ground. “It is Ulfadan. He is dead.”

Merrith screamed aloud when she heard this and ran forward. When she threw back the furs that lay across Ulfadan’s face she wailed terribly and tore at her hair.

Herilak looked around until he saw Fraken, then called him over. “We have need of your healing skills. The marag fell on Kerrick and the bone in his leg is broken.”

“I will need strong sticks, lengths of leather. You will help me.”

“I will get the wood.” Herilak looked up and saw Armun standing nearby. “Get some soft leather,” he ordered. “Quickly.”

Kerrick bit his lips but could not keep back the groan when they took him from the litter and placed him on the ground by the fire; the broken ends of bone sawed inside his leg. Fierce pain speared through it again when Fraken poked at the flesh.

“You will hold his shoulders tight, Herilak, when I pull the leg,” Fraken ordered, then bent and seized Kerrick’s foot. The old man had done this before, pulling and twisting so the broken ends of bone met. The pain of this pushed Kerrick into dark unconsciousness.

“Now the sticks to keep the bone in place,” Fraken said, tying them securely with lengths of soft leather. The work was quickly done. “Put him into the tent, cover him with furs for he must be kept warm. You, girl, help us.”

Kerrick blinked back to consciousness with sharp awareness of the throbbing pain in his leg. It hurt still, but far less than it had done. He pulled himself up onto his elbows and in the flickering light of the fire outside saw the lengths of wood bound to his leg. The skin had not broken; this would heal well. Someone moved behind him in the darkness. “Who is there?” he called out.

“Armun,” she said, reluctantly.

He dropped back with a sigh. “Get me some water, Armun. A lot of it.”

She hurried out, a dark figure quickly gone. Armun? He did not know the name. Had he met her before? It didn’t matter. The leg had settled down to a steady throb of pain like a bad tooth. His throat was so dry that it made him cough. Water was what he needed, a long deep drink of cool water.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Kerrick slept fitfully until dawn, when the throbbing of the leg woke him yet another time. When he turned his head he saw the bowl of water close by. He pushed his hand out from under the furs, seized it and drank deep, drank again and drained it. The girl came from behind him and picked it up. He could not tell who she was, her hair fell over her face. What was her name? She had told him.

“Armun?”

“Yes. Do you want more water?”

“Water. And something to eat.”

He had not eaten last night, had no desire to. But he was hungry now. The girl hurried out, her back turned. He hadn’t been able to see her face, he couldn’t place her at all. But she had a nice voice. The way she talked through her nose like that was familiar. How the leg hurt when he tried to get comfortable! Familiar? Why? This nagged a bit until he realized it was one of the sounds you used in Yilanè. Armun. He said it aloud, with the same nasal quality, then repeated it to himself. He had not spoken Yilanè in such a long time that when he did so now memories of Alpèasak pushed in, unbidden.

When she returned with the water she also brought some smoked meat on a basketwork tray, bending to place them both beside him. With her hands full she could not cover her face and he looked closely at her when she bent down. His eyes caught hers and she turned away as quickly as she could, her fists clenched waiting for the laughter that never came. Armun could not understand this. She looked on in puzzled silence as he chewed hungrily at the meat. If she could have known what he was thinking she would not have believed it.

No, Kerrick thought, I haven’t seen her before. I wonder why? I would certainly have remembered her. I wonder if she knows what her voice sounds like? I had better not tell her, she would only get angry being compared to a marag. But her voice does have Yilanè sounds to it. Not only that, her mouth is in some ways Yilanè. Perhaps the way the upper lip is separated. A familiar face. Inlènu*’s face had looked a bit like that, but wider of course, and fatter.

Armun sat behind Kerrick and wondered. The pain must be tearing at him or he would have laughed by now, or asked questions about her face. The boys had always been curious, never letting her alone. Once five of them had seized her among the trees when she had been by herself. She had fought and kicked but they had held her down. Poked at her lip and nose and laughed until they had her in tears. There was no pain, just a great shame. She was so different from the other girls. They hadn’t even pulled up her clothes to look at her the way they did with the other young girls when they caught them alone. Just poked at her face. She had been just like a funny animal to them. Her thoughts were so far away and so bitter that it was a moment before she realized that Kerrick had rolled onto his side and was looking back at her. She quickly pulled her hair across her face.

“That is why I did not recognize you,” he said with satisfaction. “You pull your hair like that all the time, I’ve seen you do it.”

She tensed, waiting for the laughter. Instead he grunted as he struggled to a sitting position, then wrapped the furs around him again because the morning was damp and foggy. “Are you Ulfadan’s daughter? I’ve seen you at his fire.”

“No. My father and mother are dead. Merrith lets me help her.”

“The marag landed on Ulfadan, knocked him to the ground. We speared it but it was too late. His neck was broken. It was a big one. One swipe with the tail broke my leg. We should have had more death-sticks with us. It was the only thing that stopped the ugly thing.”

He couldn’t blame himself. In fact it was his order that every hunting party have a hunter with a death-stick to prevent something like this happening. But one wasn’t enough among the trees. From now on hunting parties would have at least two hèsotsan with them.

But all thoughts of hunting and murgu were banished in an instant when Armun came close. Her hair brushed his face as she bent to pick up the empty water bowl; he could smell the sweet woman smell of her. He had never been this close to a girl before and the excitement of it stirred him. Unbid, the memory appeared, Vaintè above him, close to him. It was unwanted, disgusting, and he pushed all thoughts of that away.