“Our protection?”
Amero lowered his voice. “Your protection.”
“What am I going to do with a herd of humans? One makes an interesting pet, but twenty are an infestation.”
“They won’t live in the cave with us,” Amero said, his voice rising. He spread his hands apart, sketching out his new vision in the air. “They can live on the shore of the lake below the cave. They can go about their own lives there. You need not do anything for them, unless the yevi come back.”
Duranix lifted his head so suddenly the group of waiting humans stumbled backward in fearful surprise, half tripping and falling to the ground. He eyed them coolly.
“I’m not feeding them,” he announced.
“Of course not! They’ll feed themselves.”
“And when I’m sleeping, I want it quiet. None of their shouting and squawking.”
“Yes, Duranix.”
He heaved himself to his feet with a yawn. “Very well,” the dragon said, “but they’re your responsibility, Amero. I expect you to keep them in line. It’s one thing to save wildlife from slaughter. It’s another thing entirely to invite a herd into your home.” He yawned again prodigiously. “Fighting makes me hungry. I don’t suppose any elk are left on this side of the river?”
Before Amero could reply, Valka called, “We will find them!” He gestured to the other hunters in the group. They took up their spears and fanned out in the direction of the riverbank. There was a rumble of hooves and shouts from the plainsmen, and in short order they returned dragging the carcasses of three large elk. They presented these to the dragon from a respectful distance.
“Well,” said Duranix, blinking. His eyelids made loud clicks when they came together. “Perhaps we will get along after all.”
He stretched his mouth wide. Amero shouted a warning, and the hunters and their families scattered before the lightning erupted to roast the elk to the famished dragon’s taste.
Chapter 7
Nianki ran across the moonlit plain, knees rising high, arms pumping in time with her legs. The spring night was warm, and the white moon played hide-and-seek with high clouds made pink by Lutar, the low-hanging red moon. Sweat poured down her face, stinging her eyes. A few paces ahead, a yearling buck darted, its bold white tail flicking with fright. She’d flushed the deer by accident as she crossed the high plain by night. It sprang up so close in front of her that she couldn’t ignore the opportunity.
Had she owned a full-length spear, she could have brought the yearling down by now, but Pakito’s cast-off weapon was good only for short throws. After eluding the elves, she had doubled back to the beach and found the truncated spear unclaimed on the sand.
Snorting, the deer twisted sharply to the right. Nianki yelled at the animal. Her blood was up, and she meant to have this young buck. She stretched her long legs and gained a step on her prey. The deer was too young to know it could outrun her. It knew pursuit only by panthers or wolves, which it could evade but not outrun. It kept changing direction, dodging from side to side, in an attempt to escape, but she wasn’t fooled. She closed to within a pace of the buck. Each step made her legs burn, each breath now felt like a flint knife in her ribs. The yearling was panting, too, its long tongue lolling from the side of its mouth.
Nianki raised the spear to her shoulder. The next time the buck bore right -
He did, making a lightning turn right across her line of sight. Nianki hurled the short spear. It grazed down the deer’s ribs, drawing blood. The head buried itself in the ground, and the shaft tangled the yearling’s feet. It tumbled to the ground in a welter of flailing legs and wide, rolling eyes.
With a ferocious cry of triumph, she leaped upon the fallen animal. It struggled to rise, but she caught it around the neck with both arms. Bleating with terror, the young buck tried to roll her off, but she held on, tightening her grip on the animal’s throat. Nianki got a knee in the deer’s side and wrenched backward with all her might. Bones in its neck snapped, and the deer ceased struggling.
She fell back on the matted grass and gasped for air. The collar the elves had put on her chafed. Worse, though her wounds had healed cleanly, the scars still ached when she exerted herself.
Recovered, Nianki found her spear and used the flint head to butcher her kill. She gutted the carcass, wiped it out with dry grass, and then slung the yearling across her shoulders. It was essential to keep moving. The smell of blood would draw scavengers from far and wide, and she didn’t want to have to fight them off.
She made for an outcropping of boulders near the horizon. Bowed under the weight of the carcass, Nianki kept her head down until she was quite close to the boulders. When she finally looked up, she was startled to see two human figures in the shadow of the rocks. She tossed aside the deer and presented her spearpoint.
“Who’s there?” she demanded.
“Peace to you, spirit of the night! We mean no harm!”
“Show yourselves!”
Two plainsmen, young enough to be beardless, emerged from the darkness and stood open-handed before Nianki. They were naked but for scrap-hide kilts. Their faces were gaunt with hunger, and their ribs stood out like reeds, even in the dimness of the soft moonlight.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“I am Kenase,” answered the taller boy, “son of Ebon and Filar, and this is Neko.”
“Your brother?”
“No, I am the son of Sensi and Myera,” said Neko.
“How come you to be here?”
The boys exchanged looks. “We escaped from the Good People.”
Nianki tapped her spear against the hard collar. “I escaped from them as well. When did you break free?”
“We left their camp near sundown,” said Neko haltingly.
“That way.” He pointed east. “The Good People are powerful, hut I didn’t think they could capture a spirit!”
Nianki frowned. “What are you talking about? Who’s a spirit?”
“You!”
She laughed. “The moons have addled your heads! I’m no more a spirit than you.”
Kenase pointed at the deer. “We saw you. You ran down a deer and slew it with your own hands! Who but a spirit of the night could do that?”
“A hungry woman, that’s who,” Nianki replied. She hoisted the carcass back on her shoulders. “How long has it been since you two ate?”
Neko licked his lips. “Three days, Great Sp — Uh, what shall we call you?”
“Nianki, daughter of Oto and Kinar.”
“Oto the panther killer?” said Kenase.
Nianki nodded.
“I know tales of his prowess as a hunter. You’re his daughter? That explains much!”
Nianki climbed atop the lower boulder and set to work skinning the buck. She nipped off morsels for the two young men. Kenase, she reckoned, was about her age, maybe a season older. Neko was a year or two behind her. They ate greedily, and Nianki had to admonish them to chew long and swallow little. Fresh meat was hard on a starved stomach.
Kenase explained he had been visiting Neko’s family to meet Neko’s younger sister, Nefra. Their parents were considering Nefra taking Kenase as her mate. While with Neko’s family, they were captured by a band of the Good People, eight on foot and four riding those strong, four-legged animals, which he called “horses.”
“The Good People breed them to serve as beasts of burden,” Kenase explained.
“Go on,” said Nianki, chewing slowly.
“There were six of us,” Neko said, “and they drove us to a hilltop near the boundary of the eastern forest.
