How odd that they should finally reach River, merely to have her lie so quiet, so unobtrusive. She’d none of the brash cheek of Fire, none of Wind’s insistence; even Earth’s firm waiting seemed more something both outside and within, whereas River…
River’s voice filled him like a hand in a fine-stitched glove, lulled and stroked him like the soothing patter of Rain upon Her skin.
Tokela nearly ran into Našobok, who’d slowed.
Beyond, an upright row of lodgepoles seemed inconsistently moored: a barrier of tall posts decorated with mixed intentions, plus a thick layer of mossy growth. A tree-lined road led through and past, fading into thick mist. Even the scents were muted: Smoke, food, people.
There was a town somewhere near.
Našobok gave a mutter as several figures appeared in a curl and waft of damp. Cloaks shiny with Rain’s breath, their challenge apparent; this town had entry guardians. Tokela didn’t recognise the talk—perhaps a word, here and there—but Našobok obviously did. He brought both fists to his heart and dipped his chin in greeting, his eyes never dropping, his answers fluent.
While they spoke, another lift and sideways hitch of mist revealed a squat hut, mossy to its leewards side, hunched beside the barrier wall. A steady flicker dipped and beckoned within; Fire greeted Tokela with a promise of warmth. He’d no coherent answer, merely response, taking several unsteady steps towards the hut with Lioness in his wake.
The guardians—there were three of them, swart and broad as breeding bulls—broke off conversation and rounded on Tokela. The warning was plain.
Našobok quickly spoke and ambled over, his hand seeking Tokela’s shoulder. Its lightness was deceptive; Našobok’s fingers pinched, hard, and Tokela gave a small start, brought back within himself.
If only back within himself didn’t mean being so wet and chilled. And hungry, he realised. Whatever meals they’d shared had been from dwindling stocks of trail food, eaten on the run.
They’ll know what we’ve done. They’ll send others. You must hide.
And the only place left to hide was River. They hoped.
Našobok’s hand didn’t leave Tokela’s shoulder. After a few mollified exchanges and a gesture upwards beyond the road, the guardians retreated.
“Just so you know,” Našobok led them on, voice pitched for Tokela’s ears alone, “hereabouts, to peer into someone’s home without their leave is asking for trouble.”
“You said this was a major trading outpost—”
“A’io, and the welcome is fierce. But customs are even more so. We both came of age in such a place; follow my lead, and you won’t find more trouble than you can take.”
“The hearth,” Tokela muttered, trying to explain, and Našobok’s grip turned into a caress, moved up to stroke at his cheek.
“We’ll have that, soon enough. This way, tšukasi.” Našobok pressed on, Tokela and the little mare at his heels.
The sodden road wound up a steep hill. Našobok took it with a hobbling roll unlike his normal gait; it reminded Tokela how gimpy he, too, was. His thigh muscles began to pull even more, sending aching twinges from knees to groin. The discomfort realigned what sparse mental clarity he possessed; until that heartbeat, Tokela hadn’t appreciated how much he’d just set himself, leaden and grim, to endure.
They trudged upwards, accompanied by the draggy cup-thup of Lioness’s hoofs. Bottom mists gave way with an abrupt change of light, and Našobok gave a happy sigh. Tokela saw why: the hill crested into a long, level clearing, where several good-sized lodges spread, one open and airy for animalKin, and beyond, a well-thatched longhouse fit for two-legged sensibilities.
They saw to Lioness first—of course—and then retreated to the well-lit longhouse.
It was cozier than anything Tokela thought the scrubby, damp town capable of. Smells rose, delicious-thick, hanging in the rafters like a warm blanket. People from every curve of Grandmother’s belly gathered, eating, laughing, and making talk. One couple they passed had the broader, well-fleshed features of dwellers from snowy upLands; another small group had the flattened foreheads and notched ears of those who dwelt within the mesas downLand of the desert Našobok and Tokela had crossed several Suns previous; another group held close in a far corner, colourful scarves covering their heads even indoors and proclaiming them as a Clan of upper midLands herders.
Tokela kept his eyes cast down and stuck to Našobok like a seed in a dog’s ruff. Not many bothered to turn and notice two more stragglers.
The hostel’s caretaker, however, noticed them, with cheery downRiver talk. “Našobok Riverwalker! It is a joy to see you in my lodge!”
The name was recognised: with welcome smiles or a disinterested shrug, some inquisitive… and a few, Tokela noted, with trepidation.
He hung back as Našobok strode on. The place was altogether close, Fire leaping upwards in several places as if demanding recognition. Tokela clenched his teeth and shuttered his eyes. Enemies might lurk here. He could show nothing untowards.
And as if She understood, River calmed Fire’s abandon.
“Šaya a’Cassauk!” Našobok was returning the caretaker’s gesture—both hands instead of one clenched at his chest—his teeth flashing in a broad smile. “A joy to see you—hunh!”
This as the fem gave Našobok a bone-cracking hug. Šaya was well-suited for her line of work: strong, well padded, and exuberantly handsome. Našobok returned the embrace, more proof of longstanding acquaintance.
“Grandmother’s toes, Riverwalker, you resemble something a barn cat wouldn’t drag over my doorstep! And face fur? That’s a look I’ve not seen upon you in ages.”
“We were travelling a bit rough.” Našobok rubbed a hand over his face, grimaced. Tokela realised how detached he had really been; he hadn’t even noticed Našobok’s scruffiness. Putting a hand to his own chin in mere impulse, he blinked. Felt again.
He hadn’t thought he could even grow face fur yet. Most males didn’t—not until nigh onto their adult’s Journey and many not at all—yet there it was, a tiny slick of down along his jaw.
Most, River purled, are not Mine.
“—and what are you doing Earthbound?” Šaya was demanding. “On a horse?”
“I had cargo to gather upLands.”
“UpLands!” someone hooted from a
