Kerrick shuffled one foot forward, then the other. His throat was dry and the sound of his heart beat loudly in his ears as he walked slowly towards the trees. He stopped when he was a long spear throw from their cover, unable to force himself any closer. Enough. It was time for those in hiding to make a move. He raised his hands slowly, palms outward, and called out.

“I have no weapons. I come in peace.”

Still no response. But was there a movement in the shadows beneath the trees? He could not be sure. He stepped back a pace and called out again.

A stirring in the darkness. An outline. Someone was standing there. Kerrick took another step backwards and the figure moved towards him, coming into the sunlight.

Kerrick’s first reaction was fear. He swayed backwards but managed to control himself before he turned and ran.

The hunter had black hair and a dark skin, was beardless. But his hands were empty like Kerrick’s. Nor was he wearing skins like the hunter in the foothills. There was something white bound about his head, white leather also about his loins. Not gray-white, but white as snow.

“We will talk,” Kerrick called out, taking a slow step forward.

At this movement the other figure turned, almost ran back into the cover of the trees. Kerrick stopped when he saw this. The other recovered and, even at this distance, Kerrick could see that the man was shivering with fear. As soon as he realized this Kerrick sat slowly down on the grass, his hands still raised peacefully.

“I will not harm you,” he called out. “Come, sit, we will talk.”

After that Kerrick did not move. When his arms grew tired he lowered them and rested them palms upwards on his thighs. He hummed to himself, looked up at the sky, then around at the empty slopes, making no sudden motions that might startle the stranger.

The other hunter took a single hesitating step forward, then another. Kerrick smiled and nodded and did not move his hands. One single, shaking step at a time the other moved forward until he was less than ten paces away. Then he dropped to the ground, sitting cross-legged like Kerrick, looking at him with wide and terrified eyes. Now Kerrick could see that this was no youngster. His skin was wrinkled and the black of his hair was shot through with gray. Kerrick smiled, made no other motions. The man’s jaw moved and Kerrick could see his throat working, but only a harsh sound came out. He swallowed and was finally able to speak. The words came in a rush.

Kerrick could understand nothing. He smiled and nodded to give the other some assurance as the low and sibilant words continued. Then the other stopped speaking suddenly, bent forward and lowered his head.

Kerrick was baffled. He waited until the hunter had looked up again before he spoke.

“I cannot understand you. Do you know what I am saying? Do you want to know my name?” He touched his chest. “Kerrick. Kerrick.” There was no response. The other just sat and watched, jaw hanging open, his eyes round and white against his dark skin. Only when Kerrick had stopped did he nod his head again. He spoke some more, then stood and walked back towards the trees. Another hunter stepped out of the shadows and handed him something. There were others moving behind him, Kerrick saw, and he gathered his legs under him, ready to stand and run. When none of them came forward he relaxed a little. But he kept watching the trees as the first one returned. The others stayed where they were.

This time the hunter came closer before he sat. Kerrick saw that he was carrying a dark bowl of some kind filled with water. He raised it in both hands and drank, then leaned far forward and put it on the ground between them.

Hunters who drink together are sharing something, Kerrick thought. It is a peaceful act. He hoped. He watched the other closely as he reached out and picked up the bowl, raised it and drank from it, returned it to the grass.

The other reached down for the bowl, picked it up and poured the remaining water onto the ground beside him. Then he tapped the bowl and said one word.

“Waliskis.”

Then handed the bowl back to Kerrick. Kerrick was puzzled by the actions, but he nodded and smiled in an attempt at reassurance. He held the bowl close and saw that it was made of some dark brown substance that he could not identify; he looked at it more closely. Rough and brown, but decorated with a black pattern near the top edge. He turned it in his hands — and discovered that there was a larger design in black on the other side.

It had been well done, a clear, black silhouette. It was not a random blotch or a simple, repeated pattern. It was the figure of an animal. The tusks were obvious, the trunk as well.

It was a mastodon.

“Waliskis,” the other said. “Waliskis.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

Kerrick turned the bowl over and over in his hands, then touched the representation of the mastodon. The other nodded and smiled, repeating “waliskis” over and over. But what did it mean? Did these Tanu also have mastodons? There was no way to tell, not if they couldn’t speak to each other. The other now pulled gently at the bowl until Kerrick released his grip, then turned and went back to the trees with it.

When he returned the bowl was filled with cooked vegetation of some kind, lumpy and white. The hunter scooped out some of the food with his fingers and ate it, then put the howl on the ground. Kerrick did the same; it tasted quite good. As soon as he did this the stranger turned and hurried back under the trees again. Kerrick waited, but he did not return.

Their meeting seemed to have ended. No one appeared when Kerrick called out, and when he went slowly across the field to look in the grove of trees he found it empty. The encounter was puzzling — but encouraging. The dark hunter had shown no weapons, but had brought water and food. Kerrick picked up the bowl, retrieved his spear, and returned to the tents. The hunters on guard called out when he appeared and Herilak ran up the hill to greet him. He tasted the food, approved of it — but had as little idea of its significance as Kerrick had.

The sammads gathered to listen when he returned, and he had to tell the story over and over again. Everyone wanted to taste the new food and the bowl was quickly empty. The bowl itself was an object of great interest. Herilak turned it over and over and tapped it with his knuckles.

“It is hard as stone — but too light to be stone. And this mastodon is just as hard. I understand none of this.”

Even Fraken would not venture an opinion. This was all new to him as well. In the end Kerrick had to decide for himself.

“I’m going to go back tomorrow, in the morning, just like today. I’ll bring them some meat in the bowl. Perhaps they meant to share food with us.”

“Perhaps they meant for you to feed the mastodons with it?” Sorli said.

“We have no way of knowing anything,” said Kerrick. “I’ll bring them some of our meat. But not in their bowl. Let me bring them one of the woven trays with the designs.”

Before it became dark Armun took the best tray, one that she had woven herself, and washed it clean in the river. “It is dangerous to go back,” she said. “Someone else can go.”

“No, these hunters know me now. And I feel that the danger is over, the worst part was when I first went up there. These new Tanu hunt these grounds and we must be at peace with them if we are to stay. And we have nowhere else to go. Now we will eat, but save the best pieces of meat to put on the tray for me to take with me.”

There was no one in the, meadow below the grove when Kerrick arrived there the following morning. But when he threw his spear aside and went across the grass with the tray a familiar figure appeared under the trees. Kerrick sat down and put the tray down before him. This time the other came forward without fear and sat in the grass as well. Kerrick ate a piece of meat, then pushed the tray over and watched while the hunter took a piece and ate it with signs of pleasure. Then he turned and called out loudly. Five more hunters, all black-haired and beardless, dressed in the same manner, appeared from the grove and walked towards them.