‘It is hard. Too hard.’ Without apology or explanation, Thymara swung her legs to the other side of the railing and hopped down. As she did, she felt a brief vibration of sympathy from Tarman. As she walked away, she let her hand trail along the railing, assuring him of her mutual regard for him. She saw Hennesey, the mate, give her an odd look and immediately lifted her hand from the railing. He gave her a slow, unsmiling nod as she passed. She’d crossed a line just then and she knew it. She wasn’t part of Tarman’s crew and had no right to communicate with the ship that way. Even if he had started it.

That thought brought an unwelcome comparison to what Jerd had said about Tats. She forced herself to think about it. Did it matter if Tats had initiated things with Jerd? Wasn’t it something that was over and done with?

‘Now, just stay like that. Rest and don’t move. I’ll try to find more food for you.’

‘Very well.’

He looked again at the dragon on her bed of logs and marvelled at all of it, at the logs they had moved together, at how he had visualized it and created it, and how he had managed to get her up and out of the water. In the process of finding logs he could move and shifting them towards her, he had discovered several large dead fish floating in the water, and one carcass that might have been a monkey. Touching the soft dead things had been disgusting. Not fresh, she had complained, but she’d eaten them. Then, despite the sting of the water, he’d scrubbed most of the stink from them off his hands.

‘We work well together’. She spoke in his ears and in his mind.

‘We do,’ he agreed, and tried not to wonder too much if that were a good thing.

It had taken the morning and half the afternoon to achieve this. He’d seen that if he could force several of the larger logs up against the trees, he might be able to secure them there and make a dragon-sized raft. He’d begun with one log that was already butted firmly against several thick trees. The eddying current held it there. He’d moved the brush, small branches and other debris that was packed between it and another log. It had been wet heavy work, and his soaked clothing still chafed against his river-scalded skin. Long before he had finished, his hands were stiff and sore, his back ached and he felt almost dizzy from the effort. Relpda had been impatient as he worked, mooing her distress and fear. Slowly her anxiety had crept into irritation and anger.

Help me! Slipping. Help. Not do wood. Help ME!

‘I’m trying to. I’m building something for you, something you can get onto.’

Anger made her thrash both tails and wings, nearly knocking him into the water. ‘Help now! Build later!’

‘Relpda, I have to build first, then help.’

‘NO!’ Her wild trumpeting split the sky and the force of her thought staggered him.

‘Don’t do that,’ he warned her. ‘If I fall in the river and drown, you’ll be alone. No one to help you.’

Fall in, I eat you! Then no build trees. She sent him the thought silently but with no less force.

‘Relpda!’ For a moment, he was both outraged and terrified that she would threaten him. Then the cold current of fear that underlay her words snaked through his heart. She didn’t understand. She thought he was ignoring her. ‘Relpda, look: if I can push enough of the big trees together here and make them stay, then—’

Help Relpda NOW!

She pushed him again with her thought and he almost blacked out. He responded in anger. ‘Look at what I’m trying to do!’ And he shoved back hard against her stubborn little lizard brain, sending her the image of a thick raft of logs and branches, with Relpda curled safely upon it.

She snorted furiously and hit the water with her wings, splashing him. Then, Oh, she exclaimed. Now I see. It all makes sense. I’ll help you.

Her sudden fluency astounded him. ‘What?’

I’ll help you push the logs into place. And clear the brush that blocks them from fitting snugly together.

She was in his mind, using his vision, his thoughts, his words. He shuddered at the sudden intimacy, and she shivered her hide in response. He tried to pull back from her and couldn’t. On his second effort, she reluctantly parted her thoughts from his.

Relpda help?

‘Yes. Relpda help,’ he’d replied when he felt he could form words of his own again.

And she had. Despite her weariness and the soreness of her clawed feet, she swam about, pushing debris out of the way and shoving logs where he indicated. When their first effort came to pieces, she’d given one shrill trumpet of protest and despair. And then, when he called her back to their task, she’d come. She’d listened to him as he directed her to sink logs and push them under their row of timbers. When he told her she’d have to tread water while he roped their latest effort with their pitifully short piece of line, she’d done it. And then, cautiously, she’d clambered up onto her uneven bed of logs. And rested. Her body began to warm. He hadn’t realized how much her exhaustion had been affecting him until she suddenly relaxed. He nearly fainted with her relief.

Sleep now.

‘Yes. You sleep. It’s what you need most right now.’

He himself needed food. And water. How pathetic to long, not for wine or well-prepared food, but a simple drink of water. And now he was right back to where he had been hours ago, except that most of his daylight was gone. Soon darkness would fall, and he’d be back to huddling under a smelly blanket in a small boat. He glanced at the sky and decided that he had to at least try to find where Jess had found the fruit.

Meat. She’d been following his thoughts sleepily and the idea of fruit didn’t please her. Find meat. She let the sharpness of her hunger touch him. He was appalled. He’d just fed her!

Not enough.

‘Maybe I’ll find some meat.’ Then, trying to accept the desperation of their situation, he forced himself to say, ‘I’ll try.’

He walked back to the boat and looked at the selection of animal-killing tools that remained to him. The hatchet still lay in the bloody bilge water. His gorge rose as he picked it out and set it on the seat to dry. Jess’s blood, diluted with slimy water, was on his hands now. He knelt and thrust his hand down through the matted debris and into the river water to sluice it off. To his surprise, it did not sting as he had expected it to. Was he becoming accustomed to it? A glance around at the river showed him that not only was it far less acid than it had been, but that the level was much lower. The high water mark on the tree trunks was well over his head now.

He worked his way over to the cage of tree trunks that edged the river, stepping from log to log. Sometimes they bobbed deeper than he expected, and one spun under his foot, nearly dumping him into the river. But at last he stood at the edge of the forest, looking up at the trees. He knew he’d seen Jess descend one of those trunks, but they all suddenly looked much smoother than they had before. When was the last time he’d climbed a tree? He couldn’t have been more than ten years old, and it had been a friendly apple tree, its branches laden with sweet fruit. The memory of those apples made him swallow hard against his hunger. Well, no help for it. Up he must go.

The horn’s long low call startled him. He spun to face it as Relpda lifted her head and trumpeted out a response to it. The sound seemed to come from all around him. He stared around wildly, even looking up into the trees. Relpda was gazing upstream and as he watched her, she lifted her chin again and trumpeted.

By hops and tiptoeing runs, he ventured to the very edge of the packed debris and peered upriver. The light on the water dazzled him and for a time he could see nothing. Then, as if salvation were appearing in response to his most heartfelt dream, he made out the outline of a small boat and a man at the oars. And it was coming towards them. He lifted both his arms and waved them over his head. ‘Hey! Over here, over here!’ he shouted, and in response, the man in the boat lifted a hand and waved at him.