Winter in Eden

magnitude."
    Time was taken in the telling for Elem was a most satisfactory audience. The sun was on its way down the sky when Ambalasi finished and returned to the land. The first thing she saw, with a great deal of satisfaction, was that the Daughters were now working to clear the dead undergrowth. Enge put down an armload of wood and turned to speak with the scientist choosing her expressions carefully in order to obey the edict not to mention the name of Ugunenapsa.
    "We discussed the work here in the light of our beliefs. A decision was reached. We must live, for we are the Daughters of Life. To live we must have a city to live in. The city must be grown. You are the only one who can grow a city. To grow the city we will take your instruction since we must do that in order to live. So now we work."
    "So I see. But only now as you have just told me. When the city is grown will you then stop taking my orders?"
    "I have not considered all of the implications of thinking that far ahead," Enge said with an attempt at evasion.
    "Think. Speak."
    She must, though with great reluctance. "It is my belief that when the city is grown—the Daughters will no longer obey your orders."
    "I thought not. I hesitated to consider any future for them other than certain death. For the moment, for my own comfort, I accept this weak and dispirited arrangement. There is too much of importance to be Winter in Eden - Harry Harrison
    done here to involve myself with more argument now." She held up her hand and displayed the large portion of jellied meat held between her thumbs. "I return to the jungle to continue my contact with those we met. Will you accompany me?"
    "With utmost pleasure and joy-in-tomorrow. This will be a rich city, rich with life and scientific endeavor."
    "The scientific endeavor, yes. But I do not see a favorable existence for your Daughters of Disagreement, followers of she-who-shall-be-nameless. I think that your theory of life will one day be your death."
    CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
    Imame qiviot ikagpuluarpot takuguvsetame.
    Paramut saying
    There are more paths on the sea than you can find in a forest.
    It was the waiting now, the not-knowing, that bothered Armun. At first it had been all right, once the decision had been made to leave the camp by the lake there had been no turning back, no hesitation on her part. If anything she had been the strong one, forcing Kerrick again and again to remember that it had been a good decision—and the only one possible. Whenever she found him sitting, grim with worry, she patiently went through their reasons for deciding to leave—yet once again. They had no other choice.
    They had to go.
    Arnwheet, the one they were both most concerned about, seemed to care the least. He had never been parted from his mother so could not understand what it would be like. Darras, who was finally getting over her nightmares, was not happy about the change at all and cried a lot. Ortnar did not care one way or the other—while Harl could not wait for them to leave. Then he would be the only hunter, the sole provider. But the two Yilanè were sure that their end had come. Imehei was composing his death song.
    Nadasake was determined to die fighting and kept his hèsotsan close by him at all times. Kerrick understood their fears—but rejected them. The two halves of sammad Kerrick had a working relationship now and would have to go on like that. There was no need for it to change. The Yilanè were adept at catching the lake fish and crustacea, swimming out at dawn to set their traps and nets. But they were indifferent hunters at the best. Because of this an equal trade had been established, fish for meat, and all those concerned were pleased with the arrangement. Arnwheet, the only one welcome without suspicion in both camps, took care of the exchanges, proudly staggering under the weight of his burdens. The males would be safe—they would all be safe enough as long as their presence here was not discovered.
    Winter in Eden - Harry Harrison
    Leaving, getting to the headland by the sea, all that had gone easily and well. With no responsibilities or cares they had looked to each other, reveling in the newfound freedom and closeness. Many times they even walked hand-in-hand through the summer warmth. No true hunter would have done that, there must only be silence and watchfulness on the track, but Armun appreciated this even more.
    That had been during the first days. But now the waiting was a strain