Free Children of the Dawn by Patricia Rowe Page A

then again for each one I saw. But then they’d move, and I’d forget who got counted and who didn’t. There are too many, unless
     I could get them to sit down at the same time.”
    “What does it matter how many?” he said happily. “There are plenty. Amotkan’s plan is for people to spread out in the world.
     It will take many to do that.”
    Tor wasn’t seeing this the same way she was—not at all.
    She said, “A tribe of people may look like a nest of bees, but they aren’t. One bee is the same as every other. They all want
     the same things—enough honey for winter, to protect the nest—”
    “Quit talking of pebbles and bees, and say what you mean.”
    She cleared her throat. “I’m getting to it.”
    As Moonkeeper, Ashan had been trained to keep worries to herself. There was no reason for secrets between mates, but sometimes
     the early training got in the way of talking openly to Tor.
    She said, “Each person has things they love and hate, and ideas and beliefs all their own. Our people have been learning to
     live with each other since the Misty Time. Now there’s this whole new tribe, each with things they love and hate. Allthese people, with so much to learn about each other, and they can’t talk about it.”
    “I see what you mean.” He laughed like it wasn’t important. “You’11 just have to sit them down to learn words, the way you
     tell stories. Then you can even count them if you like. But don’t worry yet, my love. The stomach speaks a language everyone
     understands. The Tlikit have enough to feed both tribes until spring.”
    “I know. I couldn’t believe it,” she said, remembering when she’d seen the cache of food for the first time.
    The day after she awoke, some Tlikit women had come to her.
    “Munkeppa?”
    “You may use your own words. I understand them.”
    Clicking and clacking, they had taken Ashan to their cave. When her eyes adjusted, she saw that it spread out long and low.
     Only the middle was tall enough for standing. Tor had warned her about the smell, but he hadn’t come close. Sharp sweat; dirt
     and mold; and the stink of body waste, like the tunnel inside Ehr’s cave that she’d had to clean long ago.
    How can anyone live with this?
she wondered.
Maybe their noses are just for breathing.
    She forgot the stench when they showed her their stock of dried food, filling a corner that could only be reached on the knees:
     stacks of slabbed fish in layers separated by woven mats; mat-covered holes in the dirt floor, lined with fish skins, filled
     with pouches of fish meal; holes with berries and roots and leathermeat.
    “It goes all the way back,” a woman said proudly.
    “Enough for all. We want to share.”
    “How kind,” Ashan said. “These people who have traveled far are hungry. Sahalie is proud of you.”
    It felt strange to use the name “Sahalie.” She hoped Amot-kan wouldn’t be offended.
    The Creator has many names,
she heard in her mind. After that, she didn’t worry.
    Later, as the Shahala people sat around in a haze of well-fed bliss, the Moonkeeper had spoken:
    “Hunger has chewed our bellies for the last time. Our old enemy would not dare come to this place. We would beat himwith clubs of salmon, bury him under a sturgeon longer than a man. We would deafen him with laughter… ”
    A splash of water brought Ashan back. Tor dabbed at her face. A herd of fish passed in front of them, leaping, showing their
     silvery rainbow sides, as if they couldn’t contain the joy of living. Tor tried to cover her from the splashing, but she pushed
     his hands away. What was a little water, to see something so great? She laughed and couldn’t stop.
    After the rainbow fish had gone, Ashan said, “It’s so good to eat all you want. Even if it
is
fish, full of sand from being wind-dried. But who with a full stomach would complain?”
    Tor laughed. “Not our people, not after all those hungry days.”
    She watched the quiet water for a