Free Moon Called by Andre Norton Page A

power, yes—she had seen such in action—had used a little of it when she must. Only this was plainly a ritual foreign to her own teaching.
    Malkin raised her head, her eyes at full glow. “Isss oneee—whoooo issss—offf—”
    Thora guessed by the horns— “Set?”
    Malkin’s head shake was violent. “Goooddd — offf — Maakill — Brotthher oneee—”
    “One of his clan?”
    Malkin nodded now. Thora looked at the splotch of blood. It had not yet sunk into the ground, but remained clear. However, the furred one raised her spear, and, with a quick, sure stroke, brought the butt down upon the blood spot, driving it so into the ground as to destroy it.
    “Ggooo—” Malkin stood. She pointed to Kort and then to the defaced print, suggesting, Thora was sure, that the hound take up the trail.
    One of Makil’s kind then. Thora was not sure she was ready to meet him even if they did catch up. But it would seem she had no choice, for Kort, nose to the ground, loped steadily on. While Malkin limped in his wake at the bestpace she could keep, and Thora was left for rearguard.
    The sun was westering now. In this strange territory they should be seeking out some defensible shelter for the night. Still neither of her companions showed any sign that they intended to turn from the trail.
    They were shut off on the east by steadily rising ground. The stream here ran in a more narrow and deeper channel between what were approaching cliffs. It would seem they had come near to the end of the open land. Scattered about grew a tangle of brush and small stands of trees. Thora could see ahead the line of what was a sizeable wood. Kort reached the edge of that and stood waiting for them.
    The girl marked the mouth of a trail, wider, she decided, than a game one. She eyed that unhappily. If this was a path in use by men—she thought of the traders—however Kort had not warned them away, and she must be reassured by that.
    Malkin appeared to have no uneasiness, and kept marching straight ahead. Now Kort trotted with her. The girl shifted her backpack. With spear in one hand and her other one hovering near the hilt of her knife she went forward into the cool of the wood, straining to hear. There were no oaks here, nor any wealth of flowers. She did see the hooks of uncoiling ferns and heard the sounds of birds,and once or twice a small rustling close to ground.
    Then–
    It was as if she had walked into a wall!
    Thora staggered back, the force of meeting that invisible barrier near over balancing her. Malkin, Kort—they had met no such challenge. The girl put out both hands, half certain there was a hidden wall there.
    Her fingers encountered no surface, it was just that they could not pierce beyond. She spread her hands wide, tried to push. There was nothing to feel. Simply that she could not pass—what—air itself? Malkin and the hound, were nearly out of sight.
    She uttered a cry and Malkin wheeled to look back. Then, at a limping run, the furred one returned to where Thora stood, still striving to press her hands into the air. Malkin also put out a hand as if she sought what Thora fought against. Whether she guessed the nature of the barrier the girl could not tell, but she was back beside Thora, her eyes aflame.
    “I cannot go on,” the girl said. “There is a power set against me.”
    “Sssssoooo—” Malkin turned up the wrist from which she had earlier dropped the blood on the footprint. She looked from it to Thora.
    “Bllooddd—” She drew the single word into a long hissing sound.
    Once more she pricked at the cut, watched a bead of blood gather there. Then she heldup her arm.
    “Drrinnkk—”
    Thora jerked back. Blood was life. Two men, two women could share blood, so giving and taking, and then be bound more tightly than any kin. If one shed blood for food, or in anger, one must follow ritual—or one lay under the Shadow. She looked at the welling bubble of dark blood and felt a little sick. Malkin’s eyes