CHAPTER FOURTEEN

TENANKEN MARCH

Dew turned to sparkling frost in cold morning air, a hint of winter to come, fallen leaves floating in the breeze streaming down mountains into valleys and canyons below. Rustling sounds masked the thumping of bare feet as Hidaig’s band, some forty strong, trotted through the forest at a warrior’s pace covering six miles in an hour. Once, the early evening before, they had been seen crossing a road, shadow-like figures in a line in front of the wagon driven by Tadeusz Snykowski, returning as best he could to Quincy after a half-evening of serious drinking at the Athens Bar. His entire attention had been focused on the road, until movement ahead redirected his bleary gaze to a scraggly looking bunch of white men with long hair, rags for clothes, carrying spears and axes and falling all over themselves trying to get out of the way as he rattled around a sharp corner only a few miles out of town. He was by them in a flash, hearing a thud in the back of the wagon he would later connect with a huge slash made by something blunt and heavy, and swung with force.

Tadeusz had lived in the area long enough to know there were all kinds of wild folks living in the mountains, and the best way to keep living a simple life was to stay out of their way. He reported nothing to the sheriff in Quincy, went straight to his room in a home only a block from the River Bar and Grill, and collapsed into sleep.

Hidaig kept to the front of the band, setting the pace. His second-in-command, a huge warrior named Kretan, ran at the rear of the column with orders to kill stragglers, or anyone who tried to flee from the coming battle, and since there were no people to kill so far he was frustrated, and ready for war before their journey was even half-finished. The rest followed the back of their leader, lured by the promise of riches and lusty females and an adventure to be recorded forever in The Memories, for they were a poor band with a spiritually dead leader who loved only war, and yearned for the power it could provide.

In the afternoon, Hidaig entertained them with the killing of a Hinchai dog. The animal had followed them as they passed near a cabin, yapping at their heels until Hidaig suddenly turned, fitted a stone in his sling and let fly, hitting the dog in the hind-quarters. As the frightened dog tried to pull itself away with its front legs, whimpering pitifully, Hidaig jerked it up by the hind legs, for it was a small dog, shook it violently until both legs snapped, and his warriors were cheering the animal’s screams of agony, then used his flint knife to slowly disembowel it. Death ending the entertainment, Hidaig tossed the body off the trail before the band trotted on.

But the dog’s screams had been heard by one Ezra Pike, who lived with his brother Hugh in the nearby cabin. An out-of-work-miner, Ezra was hunting squirrel when he heard the screams, and came running to find the ripped-open carcass of what had once been a sort-of-pet to him. Whatever had killed the dog was pure mean, he decided, and not being a stupid man he carefully climbed a hill and peeked at the trail ahead rather than charging off after his quarry in anger. What he saw trotting along there convinced him that one rifle would not be enough firepower, and so he returned to his cabin and rode into town for help.

It was evening when Hidaig’s force arrived at the rim of the canyon, looking down its length to the still sunlit valley where there were several buildings, smoke coming from the chimney of one of them. After a quick look, Hidaig ordered the warriors back from the rim, where it was possible they would be seen from the cavern entrance, not realizing that at that very moment Baela sat in her hidey-tree watching their every movement, and when Han came down the hillside to greet them she was already climbing down from the tree and racing away to tell Pegre what she had seen.

The warriors flopped on their backs in soft grass to rest from the foot-pounding day, while Hidaig took Han aside for a private talk, Kretan trailing behind within hearing distance.

“You’re earlier than I expected,” said Han. “I should tell Maki you’re here before it’s dark.”

“Time for that,” said Hidaig, grinning. “Your master can wait for a little while, and there are things I want to discuss with you first. Let’s sit.”

Han frowned. “Maki is my friend, not my master.” He sat down in the grass with Hidaig, while Kretan remained standing near them, leaning on his spear. “What do you want to talk about?”

“I need to find out what we’ll be up against. How many able-bodied warriors in Anka’s band?”

“Only a few, and all of them will be moving to the Hinchai settlement.”

“Not if I can help it,” said Hidaig. “You don’t really want to see that happen, do you?”

“No, I don’t. There will be nothing left but old ones who can barely care for themselves. All the younger Tenanken want to leave. Maki tried hard to talk them out of it, but still they’ve chosen to live among the Hinchai. It’s Pegre who’s at fault. He has much influence, and the Tenanken trust him.”

“They don’t trust Maki?”

“Not completely. His hatred for Pegre is well known, and he has spoken openly about being Keeper someday. Some feel he craves power so much it clouds his good judgment.”

“And what about you? Do you think Maki should be Keeper in place of his father.”

“Why do you ask? My opinion is not important, Hidaig. You and Maki agreed on a plan to take power, and drive out the Hinchai. My only part is to tell Maki you’re here, and I should do that now.”

“But I’ve had second thoughts.”

“What?” Han noticed Kretan for the first time. The big warrior had moved closer, was standing near, watchfully.

“I’m not sure Maki is right. After all, Anka is the oldest and wisest elder in recent Memory. He has been both benevolent and democratic, yes? The Tenanken have chosen their way, and he allows it. Who am I, or Maki, to say he’s wrong? Maki would even have me kill his father if he resists. Did you know that?”

Han shook his head solemnly. His whole body had grown tense as he sat rigidly at attention. “If you’re not going to help Maki, then why are you here?”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t help. I just have second thoughts about it. Perhaps it’s best if I arbitrate an understanding between Anka and Maki so we can agree on a plan of action that keeps all Tenanken together. Together we are a force, but divided we are nothing. I see no unity in Maki’s plan, so I have decided to confront him before his father and force an agreement that brings us all together. It must be a surprise, so I do not want you informing Maki of our presence here until we meet tomorrow. As commander in the field, I’m giving you a direct order. I assure you, Maki will understand.”

Han fidgeted uneasily, looking first at Hidaig and then Kretan, who seemed to be watching only him. “Perhaps I can bring Maki here to talk with you.”

“No. You stay here for the night, and we will meet him tomorrow.” Hidaig’s tone of voice was menacing.

Han hesitated, then said, “I don’t understand your change of mind, but I will do what you say if you explain to Maki.”

“Agreed,” said Hidaig, smiling as Kretan picked up his spear and walked away from them. “I certainly don’t want to get you into difficulty. Now help yourself to some food, and let’s get to sleep.” He put a big arm around Han’s shoulders, and marched him back to join the others.

It was later that night when Han decided Hidaig intended to take all power for himself. The agreement with Maki had been firm, the plan clear, but Hidaig was the stronger of the two. He would establish a military rule that many in his own band had fled from, particularly the females and young warriors who wanted families. Han sometimes dreamed of a family, though the desirable females ignored him, and Anka’s rule was gentle and fair. Hardly a rule at all. Maki must know the change in plans, for they were now against him. He had to warn Maki—now.

He had been lying on his back in the circle of sleeping warriors, looking at the sky lights twinkling above him. He arose silently, taking nothing with him, and crept beyond the circle, looking back several times until he was out of view behind the trees.

Back in the circle, Hidaig lifted himself up on one elbow as a tall shadow moved up to stand beside him. Hidaig looked up into the calm, loyal face of Kretan, spear at his side, awaiting an order.

“Kill him,” said Hidaig.

Moments later, an agonized cry broke the stillness of the mountain night.

* * * * * * *

Her bare feet seemed to float above the rock as she raced ahead on the narrow shelf, adrenalin pumping in her veins. At first she had seen a forest of tall spears, and then the warriors. Han had come down from the hill to greet them, and Han was Maki’s closest follower. So Maki really intended to take over from Anka. The enforcements were here to back up his claim, and there were few warriors to oppose them. She dared not warn Anka in Maki’s presence and so she would flee to Pegre, whom she knew would take action quickly and decisively, as he always had in the past. She hoped he was in the house below her, now, smoke curling lazily from the chimney in twilight. She scrambled down the ridge and into the long grass, heading straight for the house without thought of being seen by anyone but Pegre, so that her heart pounded with fear when the door of the house suddenly burst open and a tall, blonde Hinchai female stepped outside. Baela kept her pace, legs driving as she saw Pegre emerge behind the female, pushing past and trotting towards her with a dark scowl on his face. As they neared each other, Baela shouted to Pegre in the language he had taught her well, “Armed Tenanken are near the cavern, talking to Han. Many warriors are ready to attack us. I came straight down!”

Pegre knelt before her, grabbing her shoulders, face close. “How many?”

She used her fingers to count. “Fifteen at least, maybe twenty. I don’t think I saw all of them. They’re by the canyon headwall, with spears, axes.” Her breath came in gasps. Past Pegre’s shoulder, she saw the blonde female rush up to them, and noted the distended stomach of one great with child.

“Peter, what is it? What’s wrong?” Her voice was concerned yet soft, her face gentle. Baela felt an immediate liking for her—Pegre’s mate. He would choose such a female to share his life.

“We have to get the others out before they attack. It’s Hidaig’s band, I’m sure of it. He’s had ambitions against Anka for years, and now he works with Maki, the young fool.” Pegre’s teeth were clenched tightly as he spoke.”

“Did I do the right thing coming here?”

“Peter,” said the Hinchai, “she’s speaking Greek! Is this one of your relatives? Are they here already?” Her face stretched into a broad smile, and she leaned over to look closely at Baela. “Oh Pete, she’s so pretty, and she’s blonde. I never knew Greeks could be blonde.” She reached out to touch her hair, and Baela smiled shyly.

“This is little Baela,” said Pegre suddenly in the other language he had taught her only a little of. “The others are coming from Quincy to Savas’s place, and I’ve got to pick them up. Baela, this is Bernie, my wife.”

Her mind whirled at first words to be spoken to a Hinchai. “’Allo,” she said haltingly, in a high voice.

“Oh, she’s sweet,” said Bernie, and crushed her in an embrace. “But this is terrible. Did she walk here all the way from Savas’s place? Pete, that’s seven miles! She should come right inside and rest.”

“Later,” said Pegre, standing up and taking Baela by the hand. “I need Baela to help translate. My Greek isn’t so good anymore, and their English is really poor. I’ll take the wagon; a couple of trips oughta do it. God, I wasn’t expecting them for another week or two.” They were walking quickly through tall grass, Baela almost running to keep up.

“Oh, this is so exciting!” Bernie was almost skipping through the grass, grabbing Baela’s other free hand, and squeezing it warmly. “But there’s so much to do! Pete, they can stay in the one cabin we do have ready, and the rest can sleep downstairs for a week or so. I’ll get the bedding over there right away. But what do I cook? They must be starved!”

“They’ve eaten, hon. Don’t worry about it tonight. Hot soup, anything simple. Better they get some sleep.” Pegre’s mind boiled with emotion and dark thoughts.

Baela frowned.

They reached the wagon in front of the house, and Baela climbed in without hesitation. She watched Pegre kiss his mate firmly before climbing in beside her, and in an instant the wagon jerked forward while Baela watched everything with an excited grin. Bernie waved at them as they pulled away, and Baela waved back until her sight was obscured by a cloud of dust.

The wagon bounced and swayed as they climbed the first hill, Baela hanging on tightly. Pegre stared grimly at the road ahead, slapping hard at the two horses. “We’ll go in a back way I used many years ago. It comes out near the tree you watch from, so we’ll have to climb down in darkness. If Maki is asleep we can get everyone out quietly, and back to the wagon, but again we’ll have to climb in the dark.”

“There’s only one bad spot,” said Baela, “but I know a way around it, and the climb is short.”

Pegre nodded without looking at her. “So you follow me up, and you lead us back. The older ones will have to stay behind this trip, but I don’t think Hidaig will be interested in them. He wants warriors and women, and Tenanken treasure that isn’t even there, and when he doesn’t find it I’m not sure what he’ll do. We’ll have to be ready for a fight, even if we get everyone out. If something starts, you stay out of the way.”

Baela started to protest, but then something careened around a sharp curve in the road, and they lurched to one side to stop as a spring wagon nearly collided with them. Headed back towards Pegre’s dwelling. Baela’s head snapped forward as they stopped, and she let out a grunt.

A hawk-faced man glared at them, long neck twisting to get a better look at Baela. “Sorry, Pete, didn’t see you till just before the curve.”

“Cuttin’ it close, Jake. Damn near drove me off the road, and I’m in a big hurry.” Pegre’s hands gripped the reins so tightly his knuckles were white.

“I was comin’ out to get you. The critters have been seen again a little south of town. Ez’ Pike came in lookin’ for Tom, sayin’ they killed his dog. Just shows how often he gets to town. Anyway, Ez’ says they had spears and axes, and raggedy, old clothes. Ten of ’em at least, and they’re headed this direction, but south of town a few miles this mornin’. We’re formin’ a posse to bring ’em down before they kill someone else. Want to go along?”

“Can’t, Jake. My relatives just came in, and I’m on my way to pick ’em up. Especially now, with trouble around. It’s nearly dark.”

Jake peeked at Baela again. “That one of ’em? Relatives, I mean.”

“This is Baela,” said Pegre, turning to whisper to her, “Jake is my neighbor.”

Baela smiled shyly, cocking her head coyly to one side as Pete looked back at Jake, and thought, My God, he actually smiled at her.

“Little blonde,” said Jake.

“Right.”

“Didn’t know there was such a thing as a blonde Greek.”

Pete laughed. “We’ve been sailin’ the seas a long time, Jake. Want to know if she has an older sister? She doesn’t, but there’re some other sisters I think you’ll find interesting if you let me go pick them up.”

“What about Bernie? She’s alone, and those critters are runnin’ around loose. If you want, I can watch out for her.”

“Thanks, Jake, but she’s not helpless. All Bernie needs is her eyes and ears, and that twelve-gauge. She can hear deer tip-toeing around at night, and now I’ve really gotta get out of here. Can’t make the curve till you move your wagon. C’mon, Jake. Tell the men I’ll try to catch up later, after I get my people settled in.”

“Okay,” said Jake. “I’ll follow you down.” He snapped his reins, and the wagon moved past them.

“Hope he doesn’t follow us,” said Pegre. “Sometimes I wonder how much he really knows.” The wagon jerked forward, and they were bouncing and swaying again along the rough road, Jake close behind, gaining speed as they descended the hill. Baela stretched to watch the town coming up at them, a group of Hinchai clustered by one building, waving then yelling as they passed, and Jake stopped there. “Thank God he stopped,” said Pegre. “Now we get the others.” He slapped with the reins, and Baela squealed as the road rushed by them.

Pegre had changed, or perhaps this was a side of him she had never seen before. In class he was gentle and fun, quick to make a joke or do his little dance that made them fall down with laughter, and at times Baela felt closer to him than to her own father who kept to the silent, dignified, traditional manners of the Tenanken. But now her teacher brooded, heavy brow ridges prominent, mouth pressed into a thin line, eyes black and bottomless. It frightened her a little, this new Pegre, but at the same time she sensed a determination, a power, making her feel safe so that she found herself sitting close enough to lean on him, feeling a startled shudder when they touched.

Pegre gave her a quick glance. “Don’t worry yet, Baela. They won’t make a move until it’s light, and we’ll be gone by then. But it’s important we get everyone we can out, because there won’t be a second chance with Hidaig around. We have to destroy his force, Baela, and that means Tenanken can be hurt or killed. I don’t want you to be one of them. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she said quietly, snuggling up a little closer, close enough to feel hard muscle and warmth.

“Promise me you’ll do what I say, Baela. There won’t be time for argument when things start happening.”

“I will.”

“Good. I’m hoping Maki will be asleep when we get there. You’ll have to go in first, because I’ll make too much noise. You can push the brush over from the inside to let me in before Maki can make a move. After that, we do what we have to, and get everyone out. Understand?”

Baela nodded, face grim.

Pegre pulled off the main road, and they swerved along two faint ruts in tall grass until they were engulfed by brush and scrub trees, crashing through dried stalks and hard limbs until a graded road appeared, leading up to a freshly painted, dark brown cabin. “This is where my teacher lived, when I was young and wanting to learn everything,” said Pegre, and there was sadness in his voice. “We’ll go on foot from here, but it’s a short climb to your tree, and then down to the cave. Ready?”

Baela smiled at him, jumping out quickly when the wagon stopped. Pegre pulled a Hinchai hand weapon from behind the seat and strapped it on, noting the look of disapproval from the little girl. He walked over to the cabin door locked with a new lock, rattled the door, looked sheepishly at Baela and said, “Nothing of value in there, just a lot of old memories. Stay right behind me.”

They walked past the privy into thick brush fringing a grove of young fir trees, a rocky base sloping upwards until they were grasping at exposed roots to anchor themselves when loose earth gave way beneath their feet. A few minutes later they reached a wall with a wide crack angling up to the left, forming a rough shelf they ascended easily some twenty meters to the top and a dense stand of trees and thick brush through which a trail had been broken. A few steps later, Baela was looking up in amazement at her own hidey-tree in which she had spent countless hours looking out over the canyon without ever exploring what lay beyond. They crouched by the tree, and Pegre took her elbow in his hand, whispering, “Now, you show me the easiest way to the cave. Remember, everyone will have to follow us back, so it can’t be too difficult, even for us older ones.”

Baela nodded, and moved out crouched down onto the flat near the cliff, looking for the nest of the great hunting bird, seeing it, and veering to the right towards a wide crack dropping down a meter to a series of descending slabs and the faintly visible shelf along the cliff face. Stepping out on the first slab, she had the usual stomach flutterings, and quickening of breath from the severe exposure to a seventy meter fall straight down to spear-like trees below. Pegre followed close behind, and she heard him grunt when a slab creaked under his heavy step, but in seconds they were on the shelf, watching their feet carefully as they picked their way to the hidden cave entrance in near darkness.

The brush blocking the cave entrance had been woven together to form a wedge-shaped plug most easily moved from inside by pushing. Baela stepped up to the plug, and stood there for a moment, listening, for Maki’s bed was only two meters from the entrance, and he was often awake long after darkness. She heard and felt nothing, knelt down and pulled on the brush lightly, wincing when a twig snapped.

The plug gave a little, but moved no further.

It was tied in place from the inside.

Baela looked up at Pegre, shook her head, and he jabbed his fingers angrily in the direction of the cave.

She tried again, the plug snapping and crackling, moving just a little so that a black, rectangular hole opened up on one side. She listened again, for breathing—the scratch of a moving pebble. Nothing. Pegre was kneeling down now at her side. She felt his warm breath on her neck. She crawled forward into blackness, pushing the plug aside with a shoulder, widening the hole to accommodate her tiny frame. A faint gleam of torchlight lay ahead, and she kept her head up, looking for sudden movement or a shadow, or a hand clamping down on her. She swallowed hard and crawled silently through the hole, eyes sweeping the area.

Maki’s bed was empty. Baela stopped holding her breath.

She crawled the rest of the way through, then turned and untied the two, braided-hair ropes someone had used to tie the plug in place. Perhaps it was Maki, preventing visitors from sneaking in so close to where he slept. Did he know there was a Tenanken force waiting nearby?

Baela pushed on the plug, moving it out an arm’s length, and Pegre was on her immediately, crawling past her into Maki’s small grotto with the pile of furs and tiny pool of green water. He gestured, and she pulled the plug back in place without tying it, then crawled over to where he was tearing apart Maki’s bedding. He found the Hinchai hand weapon, and pushed it under his belt, then picked up the long pointing weapon and thrust it towards her, whispering softly as he pointed to the hole at one end. “Get small pebbles and dirt to make a paste with water, then push it all down this hole until the cavity is filled. Tamp it in hard with a stick, but don’t touch any other part except this long piece. If you touch any other part, the weapon could explode.”

Pegre’s intensity frightened her, but she sensed a great responsibility connected with this simple task, and so it pleased her to do it. As he crawled out of the grotto to stand up, she was already scraping up a pile of dirt and small pebbles on the floor, and sprinkling water on it with her hands.

“I’ll be back quickly, so be ready to leave.”

Baela sprinkled harder, mushing the dirt into a thick paste as Pegre disappeared down the dark tunnel leading to the main cavern, leaving behind the nearly burned out torch above the cave entrance. She rolled the paste into little cylinders between her palms, and dropped them one by one into the barrel of the weapon until it was full, then rammed a small stick into the hole as hard as she could and repeated the process. When the stick would no longer penetrate into the hole, she wiped the weapon clean with her hands, and wrapped it in the long fur just as Maki had left it.

Someone was coming up the tunnel.

Baela pressed herself against the grotto wall. If it was Maki, he’d kill her for being here. She wanted to run.

“Where are you, Baela?” Whispered softly.

Pegre.

She peered out of the grotto. He was alone.

“Everyone’s asleep, and Maki’s with his father. We’ll have to wake people quietly, and get them out before Maki awakes. Come on!”

Suddenly she was frightened. Veins at her temples throbbed, and she felt hot all over. She swallowed hard, then followed Pegre’s broad back into darkness, reaching ahead of her to touch him until she saw glimmering, yellow light. A few more steps, and they were in the main cavern, weakly lit by a few remaining torches, Tenanken sleeping in clusters around the shelves. Pegre motioned her to stay where she was, then walked out onto the shelves, stopping at each sleeping form, kneeling, poking with one hand, and she felt the Mind Touch again, a vision of herself leading a line of Tenanken along the shelf towards the bird’s nest and the trees. People stirred in their sleeping robes, looking first at Pegre and then at Baela, getting up silently and leaving everything behind except the Hinchai clothes they wore in sleep, forming a line to leave their home forever.

Baela turned to lead them from the cavern, and then she stopped, overwhelmed with sudden grief, looking to one side to see Tel standing at a fumarole entrance, looking down on the line of shuffling Tenanken, her eyes dark and sad, but without tears. All felt the wave of love and hurt that came from her, bowing their heads as Pegre rose after awakening one last figure, and looked at his adopted mother with the calm and quiet dignity that reminded Baela he was truly a Tenanken in blood and spirit. No words were exchanged in the tense quiet of the cavern, and then Tel extended both arms towards Pegre, raising them enough so he could see her face. He responded with one arm, and in that instant all felt a surge of energy, an urgency to leave quickly and do what needed to be done. Tel turned stiffly on one heel, and disappeared into the darkness of the fumarole as Baela motioned to the others to follow her out of the cavern.

They left without sound; even two babies strapped securely to their mothers’ chests did not cry out. Baela had seen her own parents with Pegre at the end of the line, helping the slower ones. Her grandmother had chosen to remain behind with old friends who could not be moved. She pulled the plug from the entrance, pushing it to one side, then gesturing to everyone to join hands for the precarious walk along the shelf. Most of her flock had been outside only a few times, and she heard the gasps when they first saw the drop off from the narrow shelf ahead. She led them across in a shuffle step, stopping only once when there was a muffled cry and sudden tension in the chain of hands and arms. A young male had stumbled off the trail, dangling in space for one heart-stopping instant before being jerked roughly back onto his feet. But they arrived intact at the slabs angling upwards to the crack, where Baela stood aside to get each one started properly for the short climb upwards. As they came, she counted their number. Including Pegre, three hands and two more fingers. So few? Had so many stayed behind, those who were old or sick? Of course others would join them later, but it was dangerous to stay here now. She whispered to each person to wait by the big tree ahead, and suddenly found herself saying it to her own mother, very adult and serious, while her mother smiled back and patted her on the cheek. Pegre was behind, wrapping an arm around her warmly and pushing her up ahead of him, grunting because the crack was barely wide enough to accommodate his girth.

On top, they found the others huddled under Baela’s hidey-tree, looking cold and frightened. It was a clear night, and although the moon had not yet risen, the sky seemed to cast a dim illumination that helped them find the way. The path downhill was easier to see, but they moved closely together in a line, Baela at the end and Pegre in front. As they went over the crest of the hill, Baela glanced back at the bird’s nest, wondering if she would ever see the little ones again, imagining herself standing in the tall grass of the valley, watching the mother bird soaring in higher and higher circles until she was a dot in the sky. When Baela came back to her senses, they had reached the bottom of the hill, stopped to rest, and some of the others were looking at her strangely. Pegre came over, and put a hand on her shoulder.

“Ah, the little bird has returned to earth.”

Of course, she thought, he has looked into my mind again, even though he knows I do not like it. She frowned, and pushed past him to stand next to her mother and father, pouting.

Pegre looked perplexed. “I’ve offended you with a compliment, but there’s no time for anger now. I need your help in translating to the others what they need to do. Please?” He held out a hand.

Baela felt a nudge from her mother, then a harder one from her father, and Pegre had that smile again that made it difficult for anyone to remain angry with him. And so she stepped forward and took his hand, and helped translate his instructions to the older Tenanken who had greatest difficulty with the Hinchai language. But when he was finished, and the line of refugees was again on the move, she pulled on his hand so that he looked down at her, and she said very seriously, “I told you before I don’t like it when anyone goes into my head. My visions and thoughts are my own.”

“Ah,” said Pegre, “now it is clear. But I did not violate your privacy, Baela, nor did anyone else. Here is a question for you to think about while we walk; if you wished your vision of the great bird to be a private one, then why did you share it with us?”

Pegre walked away quickly, leaving her with a puzzled expression on her face. Finally she followed the group at a distance, and hurried until she was at the end of the line. The question made no sense. Share? Never. As a well-disciplined girl-child she had worked hard to remain totally private, as expected of her, keeping all thoughts and dreams and other spiritual things to herself. Sharing was for the true Tahehto who possessed The Mind Touch, not a Hanken like herself, and she felt privileged they would share anything with her. She did not feel inferior, but recognized there were differences between Hanken and Tahehto purities that could not be changed. Her mother and father had taught her this, and she accepted it without resentment or self-pity, though at times, when she was happy about something like a baby animal or a flower or the sweet smells outside she wanted to scream it to the world, but could not find the words. So how could Pegre accuse her of sharing a vision of the hunting bird?

Baela thought about the question until they reached Savas’s cabin, coming to a conclusion that could only be impossible—because she was a Hanken child.

Pegre loaded them into the back of the wagon until it was full, everyone crouched tightly together. “I’ll have to make two trips. The rest of you will stay inside the cabin until I return. I’ll lock you in so everything looks normal. If anyone comes by, stay up against the front wall so they can’t see you, and don’t make a sound.”

Baela translated, although she could see that some had already understood. Pegre unlocked the shiny, new lock on the door of the cabin. He opened the door, and inside was inky blackness, like the cave. For the Tenanken, total darkness was an old experience, and they had no fear of it. Pegre motioned Baela, her parents and two others to enter the cabin. Inside, they sat down on the wooden floor and the door closed behind them, the lock snapping shut an instant later. Baela went to a window and looked outside. Pegre saw her face at the window, smiled, and waved to her, then climbed into the wagon. She laughed at the gasps of surprise inside the cabin, the way the passengers in the wagon suddenly grasped each other in fear, and she wondered if they would enjoy the ride as much as she had the first time.

The wagon pulled away quickly and was soon lost from view, leaving them quiet in the darkness. Baela continued to stand by the mica window, watching the dark shadows and silhouettes outside. A few minutes later, something appeared in her peripheral vision. She jerked her head towards it, and saw nothing, then it was there again, flickering on and off. She watched it steadily as it wound its way down the hill through thick stands of trees, a string of small, dim lights—heading straight for the cabin.