Winter in Eden

talked to Armun, but could add nothing to what they already knew had happened. Her name was Darras. She had been alone in the woods, squatting down in the shelter of the bushes, when everyone screamed. She had been frightened, had not known what to do, so had remained hidden. Later she found the mastodon and stayed with it. She was hungry. When she was asked why the sammad had trekked north she had no idea. She ate the cold meat ravenously and fell asleep soon afterward.
    There was little to be said until Kerrick broke the silence. "In the morning I will see if there is any trace of the Yilanè, though they must be gone by now. If they are, we will start south, to the lake where I left the two male murgu. If those two are still alive we can get their death-sticks. There will be food there too; it will be a safe place to stay. I must find out what has happened in Deifoben. But I will have to do that alone while you remain at the lake."
    "That is what you must do," Ortnar said, grimly. "The sammads are there—or were there. We must find out what has happened."
    CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
    Ortnar hobbled off at dawn, leaning heavily on his spear, to find the track of the Yilanè. Kerrick wanted to go in his place, but he knew that the big hunter was a far better tracker and woodsman. While Armun fed the children he cut long, stout poles to make a travois, using the straps from their packs to bind it together. He was fixing it to the mastodon when Ortnar returned.
    "They came from the sea," he said, dropping wearily to the ground, his face running with sweat and taut with pain. "I found where they came ashore, where they laid an ambush that the saminad walked into.
    They're gone, back to sea."
    Kerrick looked up at the sky. "We are safe enough until we get further south. They won't have any birds looking at this area, not after the killing. We'll leave now, go as far south as we can before we have to travel by night."
    "The owl…" Armun said. Kerrick nodded.
    "We are still better moving at night. The raptors fly high, can watch a bigger area. That is all we can do."
    Once they had passed the dead sammad they came to the well-marked track it had made, then followed Winter in Eden - Harry Harrison
    this south.
    Arnwheet ran behind the plodding mastodon, thinking it was all exciting and fun, stopping to admire the giant heaps of fresh dung. Darras walked in silence, numbed by what had happened, staying close to Armun. Arnwheet quickly tired of walking and swung onto the travois where the little girl soon joined him. Harl at thirteen was far too old for this babyish comfort and walked on with the others.
    Ortnar refused to ride on the travois—though his toeless foot kept him in constant agony. He was a hunter, not a child. Kerrick mentioned it just once, did not speak of it again after the hunter's snarled refusal. In midmorning a spring rain began to fall in a fine drizzle, becoming heavier as the day progressed. Slowed by the glutinous mud, Ortnar fell farther and farther behind until he was out of sight.
    "We should wait for him," Armun said. Kerrick shook his head.
    "No. He is a hunter and has his pride. He must do what he must do."
    "Hunters are stupid. If my foot hurt I would be riding."
    "So would I. That must make me only half a hunter because a Yilanè would not walk unnecessarily."
    "You are no murgu!" she protested.
    "No—but at times I think like one." His smile faded and he strode on unhappily through the rain. "They are out there somewhere—and something terrible is happening. I must find out what it is, go to the city."
    Kerrick was reluctant to stop at midday—but Armun insisted because they had not seen Ortnar since the storm had begun. While she took out the food, he cut some pine branches to shelter them from the cold rain. Harl brought water from a nearby stream and they gulped mouthfuls of it to wash down the repellent meat. Kerrick finally spat his out. They must hunt, get fresh meat, cook it. He had not noticed any game, but it must be there. Something moved in the forest and he grabbed up his bow, fitted an arrow to it—but it was Ortnar. Stumbling forward, slowly and steadily. He had a brace of woods pigeons slung over his shoulder.
    "Thought we could use… the fresh meat," he gasped as he slumped to the ground.
    "Let us eat them now," Kerrick said, worried by the drawn lines in Ortnar's face. "We can light a fire, the smoke won't be seen in the rain. Harl, you know how to find dry wood. Get