Free Children of the Dawn by Patricia Rowe

people are like spiders sucking
     prey. I’m dry, and they still want more.”
    “Come with me.”
    Leaving Teahra Village, they walked a trail that followed the river. Chiawana’s low-throated rumble took the buzz of human
     voices from her ears. Tor strode tall beside her, a powerful warrior to protect her from everything. Ashan was a small woman;
     her head reached the middle of his chest. At times the weight of her duties made her feel even smaller. His arm around her
     shoulder reminded her that she didn’t have to be strong every moment of her life—not as long as she had Tor.
    Raga, you were wrong,
she thought.
The law was wrong. A Moonkeeper
can
have a mate and still do her work
—
maybe even do it better,
    Tor turned from the trail, and led her to the water’s edge. He spread his deerskin shirt on a flat-topped boulder. They sat
     close together.
    Ashan could still see Teahra. And its people. Two tribes of them. Young and old; alone and in groups; standing, sitting, walking,
     talking, working. So
many
people.
    She had a vision of a bee tree—with something wrong—the bees swarming around like the mother had forgotten to tell them what to do.
    She looked away, and let herself be amazed by Chiawana’s tremendous size. Ashan had never seen a river that couldn’t be crossed.
     It shone blue under the autumn sky. Its ancient voice seemed to say,
What is a day in the space of forever?
A breeze lifted her hair. The low sun warmed her skin. She breathed deep.
    “Mmmm… it’s nice here.”
    Tor said, quite seriously, “I don’t think winter comes to this place.”
    Ashan smiled. “Winter comes to every place.”
    “Well, autumn was never this warm at home. It’s probably already snowing in the Valley of Grandmothers.”
    She pictured Anutash, with snow covering any sign that people had ever lived there.
    “We were right, Tor. If we can’t live in our homeland, this looks like a good place.”
    “We?” he said, smirking. “I’m the one who found it.”
    “But I’m the one who got our people to come.”
    “Well I’m the one who kept them from killing each other while you had your nap.”
    They laughed. Besting each other was a familiar game, with no winner or loser.
    It felt wonderful to be alone with Tor. Ashan had been surrounded by people since she woke up—
speaking that language,
she thought, still not used to it. The Shahala wanted to talk to their Moonkeeper about all kinds of things. Some were nervous
     and wanted reassurance; they didn’t know how to act around these
strange
new people. Others shared their excitement—what a good place this was, all the food, the
interesting
new people.
    Tor had been kept just as busy by the Tlikit.
    “Oh, Ashan,” he said suddenly, enfolding her in his arms. He whispered into her hair, “It’s so good to be with you. So good.”
     The depth of feeling in his voice said how terrified he’d been of losing her.
    “I love you,” she said. “I pray we never have to be apart again.” .
    Eyes closed, lips pressed to his muscled chest, nostrils filledwith the man-scent that was his alone, she gave herself to his embrace. If she lived to an age of ten women, she would never
     stop loving this feeling. So warm, so safe, to hide in the cave he made of his body, to be at the center of a warrior’s strength
     and protection.
    She murmured, “The longer I love you, the more I love you.”
    “Not as much as I love you. Everything about me is bigger.”
    Another familiar game… arguing about who loved the most. Little memories known only to the two of them…
    It took a long embrace to satisfy them. Releasing her, he put his arm behind her back for her to lean against.
    Ashan gazed at the village.
    “So many people,” she said, shaking her head. “I tried to count them. I sat where I could see the whole place, and spread
     out a piece of leather. I started with the women. I’d pick one, and put a pebble on the leather—two if she had a cradleboard;