Finally, people began to notice Alanna. Her clothing attracted them. She was clearly a woman and yet she was dressed in pants and a short belted tunic—clothing forbidden by the Missionary interpretation of Deuteronomy 22:5, which they chose to enforce strictly. “The woman shall not wear that which pertaineth unto a man, neither shall a man put on a woman’s garment: for all that do so are abomination unto the Lord thy God.” Thus Neila Verrick had quoted when Alanna, fresh from the wilds where she had gone almost naked, complained about the bothersome long dresses all Missionary girls and women wore. Alanna had never taken the prohibition seriously. As soon as the Tehkohn asked her what she needed to keep her furless body warm, she had described her present clothing to them. An artisan had managed to turn out exactly what she wanted and she had worn it in warmth and comfort ever since.
Now the Missionaries came to stare at her and at her strange clothing. She looked at their furless faces with interest. Many of the men had beards but that was not the same as the all-over fur covering of the Kohn. Through much of her time with the Tehkohn, she had longed to see another Earth-human face. Sometimes she had felt alone and more lonely than she ever had in the wilds of Earth—a different kind of loneliness. Now, finally, she was surrounded by the faces she had longed to see, and she felt herself to be among strangers. She felt confused, vaguely frightened. People spoke to her and she did not answer them.
“Alanna!”
“You’re Alanna Verrick, aren’t you?”
“Don’t you remember me, Alanna?”
“Were you with those animals all this time?”
“Hey, Alanna…”
They clustered around her, greeting her, welcoming her home, while she longed desperately to be at home. To be at the home she had left in the mountains. To be away from this crowding shouting gesturing mob. What was wrong with these people? The raiding party had not behaved this way.
Since she would not speak, the people began to talk about her rather than to her.
“It is the Verrick wild human, isn’t it?”
“It’s her all right—though dressed like that…”
“Why doesn’t she say something?”
“You know, she never was too bright.” This from an older woman who had never quite been able to forgive Alanna’s wildland origins. “Maybe she’s forgotten how to speak English.”
“Why not,” said someone else. “The Tehkohn had her almost as long as we did.”
Then Neila Verrick was there, hurrying through the crowd, her face wet with tears. “Alanna! Oh, it is you. Alanna, girl…”
In Neila’s arms, Alanna found her first moments of peace within the stockade. Her fear and her feelings of isolation began to ebb and she could smile at the woman who had become her mother. She could start to feel at home.
Now she grew more aware of her body’s discomfort. Now she had relaxed enough to concern herself with mere discomfort. She was hungry and weary and in need of meklah. The meklah need was only strong enough to emphasize her hunger, so far, causing her to feel as though she had been without food for many hours longer than she actually had. It was only nightfall—a half day since Natahk had forced her into readdiction. But she had eaten nothing since then, nothing for most of the day except that single yellow fruit.
It did not matter. For the moment, nothing mattered as she greeted her foster mother. She could hear people near her asking questions again. How had she survived? What had the Tehkohn done to her? Where were the other captives? Only this last question made any impression on her. There were people around her whom she recognized now as relatives of those who had died in the Tehkohn prison room. She did not want to tell them that their relatives were dead. She was still too close herself to the pain of losing a loved one and she did not want to watch as that pain replaced the hope in these people’s faces. Now was the time to concentrate on keeping the living alive, not on mourning the dead.
Still without speaking, she let Neila lead her into the Verrick cabin.
The main room of the cabin was as cluttered as she remembered it, full of the tools, furniture, and utensils of Missionary life. The room was used for cooking, for eating, for almost any work that could be done indoors, and simply for gathering together and taking pleasure in each other’s company. The room, like Neila’s presence, helped Alanna to bridge the two-year gap and rejoin herself to her Missionary past. She needed that past now to help her know how best to reach the Missionaries through their xenophobic shield. With a little rest now, and food, she would be ready to begin on Jules and Neila.
But weary as she was, she saw that she was not to be left alone yet. Just before Neila shut the door, a tall Garkohn huntress slipped in fully camouflaged. Neila seemed not to see her, but Alanna saw her plainly, marveled at her carelessness. No Tehkohn would use camouflage so poorly and expect it to be successful. But clearly the Garkohn got away with it at the Mission settlement. Or they had been getting away with it. Now was the beginning of the end of that. Alanna greeted the huntress quietly.
“Gehl”
The huntress dropped her camouflage, became as visible to Neila as she had been to Alanna. Beside Alanna, Neila jumper!, nvje a quick “Oh!” of surprise.
“Alanna,” murmured Gehl. This huntress had taught Alanna the Garkohn language and in return, Alanna had taught her English. Two years ago, Gehl had been a friend. Even now, with all the changes that had taken place, Alanna realized that she was glad to see the huntress. Gehl’s presence, like Neila’s, made the settlement seem more like home. But Gehl was Garkohn. Did she come now as persona] friend or tribal enemy.
“Your eyes are good,” said Gehl in English.
“Very good,” agreed Alanna.
“And you are strong—even stronger than I thought you were. In my life, I have never seen anyone return alive from Tehkohn captivity.”
“Your strength was promising too,” said Alanna. “What is your rank now?”
