<Keep it, but when you reset the snare, move it further to sun-rising. There are those in my clan who fear that your People will seep into our territory as water overflows the banks of a river.>
<And you would dam the spread of that river?>
<Such is the command of the elders of my clan.>
Keen Eyes thought that perhaps Nimble Fingers did not completely agree. However, the way of the People, as contained in the oldest songs of the memory singers, was that the wisdom of the elders was to be listened to by the younger members. In this way, the entire clan could avoid errors made in the past.
Usually, Keen Eyes had no problem agreeing with this approach. A traditional way of teaching hunting was to let the youngling attempt a hunt or two without coaching. Only after the youngling had gone hungry from a pounce too soon or from not knowing a particular trick of the intended prey did the serious teaching begin, for only then did the youngling realize that there was something to value in past experience.
Lately, however, he had begun to wonder why the elders should have the final say when the problem was one in which they had no genuine experience to guide them. Of course there had been forest fires in the past, but these fires were among the first where the ability of the People to move into new ranges was complicated by the presence of the two-legs.
He heaved a gusty sigh but, as it was his own policy not to challenge the rights of the Trees Enfolding Clan lest they decide the time of toleration was ended, he could not protest.
<I thank you, Nimble Fingers, for letting me keep my prey. Would you perhaps like to come share it with me?>
<That is kind of you, Keen Eyes, but I had better keep my post. Our clan has not suffered as severely as you report your own has, but the mind healers have asked us to do as little as possible to upset our clan’s internal harmony—and that means not upsetting the elders.>
Keen Eyes was very interested. Even the ability to share thoughts did not mean the People were immune to disagreement. When consensus could not be reached, that disagreement could sometimes become intense enough the mind healers stepped in. Healing always involved a certain amount of work on the mind of the victim as well as the body even for purely physical injury—moderating of pain, offering comfort and reassurance. Mind healers, however, specialized in touching actual minds, feeling where they had become twisted from the true and helping them return to understanding that the needs of others were as important as the needs of the individual.
<Your elders are stretched thin?>
Nimble Fingers’ reply overflowed with exhaustion. <We lost much of what had been stored up against the winter to a fire on our moss-growing border. We also lost several members of the clan.>
<And suffered injuries no doubt.> Keen Eyes was glad they were communicating only by mind-voice. If Nimble Fingers had been close enough to immerse himself in Keen Eyes’ mind-glow there would have been no hiding the bitterness Keen Eyes felt.
<Many injuries. Not so much from the fire itself as from the smoke. It blanketed the forests for a great distance beyond where the fires burned.> The innocent agreement in Nimble Fingers’ reply confirmed Keen Eyes’ guess that Nimble Fingers could not read his mind-glow. <Several of our wisest elders were killed or disabled. The clan is still trying to sort out who has the most balanced view of how we should deal with our changed situation.>
<There are different opinions, then?>
<Many, from whether we should change our central nesting site to what to do about….>
Nimble Fingers’ mind-voice trailed off. On the whole, People were not very good at hiding things. They were simply too accustomed to shared mind-glows. Scouts and memory singers probably had the most teaching in that area, for they were the most likely to deal with People who did not share the same priorities.
Keen Eyes wondered what Nimble Fingers had been about to say. “What to do about the invaders?” Or something more mild, “What to do about those poor refugees?” He considered asking, but decided against it. On the whole, Nimble Fingers had been kind to him and, by extension, to the Landless Clan. Nothing would be gained by challenging him.
Instead, he said, <Our clan has been relying heavily on our mind healers. We are lucky that although we lost all our memory singers, we did not lose our mind healers.>
<You are fortunate. We lost our most senior mind healer, a true wellspring of wisdom about the twisting paths down which the pain of a few strong minds can lead a clan accustomed to following them.>
That told Keen Eyes quite a lot. If the People of Trees Enfolding were dealing with conflict within their own clan, it explained why the Landless Clan had been kept in their particular limbo, neither welcomed and helped, nor driven away.
<I am sorry. I hope the healing comes quickly.>
<I do as well. This is a bad situation for all of us.>
His phrasing included the Landless Clan as well, and Keen Eyes was warmed. But Nimble Fingers’ next thought reminded him that the danger was far from ended—that, indeed, it intensified with every sun’s passing that brought them closer to the need to make a final decision.
<Swimmer’s Scourge comes. He would not like to find me chatting at my post. Remember. Move your snares further to sun-rising. Remember….>
Keen Eyes sent back a quick promise that he would, but as he shouldered the carry net with his catch and prepared to lope in the direction of home, he wondered just how long they could obey such warnings. In time, his clan must press to sun-setting…or die.
Chapter Ten
“Stephanie! Karl!”
They halted and turned in the direction of the shout. A young man, perhaps five years older than Karl, waved and came towards them, accompanied by a somewhat older, blond-haired, green-eyed woman. Stephanie recognized Allen Harper, one of Dean Charterman’s assistants. He was a grad student—in geology, she thought—and he was also from Sphinx, which was why Charterman had assigned him to show her and Karl around campus for their initial orientation. She had no idea who his companion might be, though.
“Are we catching you between classes?” Harper asked as the newcomers reached them, and Karl shook his head.
“We’re done till supper,” he said. “Just heading back to the dorm to get Lionheart back into the air-conditioning.”
“Just Lionheart, eh?” Harper laughed.
“Well, maybe me, too.” Karl wiped sweat from his forehead and smiled. “Blame me?”
“I’m from Sphinx, too, remember?” Harper shook his head. But I am glad I caught you. Dean Charterman asked me to introduce Ms. Adair to you.” He indicated the woman beside him. “Stephanie, Karl, this is Gwendolyn Adair. Ms. Adair, Stephanie Harrington and Karl Zivonik.”
“I’m so glad to finally meet both of you!” Ms. Adair smiled, holding out her hand first to Karl and then to Stephanie. “I’ve heard a great deal about you—and about Lionheart, of course.” She smiled at the treecat on Stephanie’s shoulder. “He’s even more impressive looking in person than he is on HD.”
Stephanie smiled back, but it was difficult. She’d felt a sharp spasm of something very like wariness the instant Ms. Adair had come within fifty meters, and she knew where it had come from. Now she reached up to touch Lionheart’s ears.
“I don’t know about impressive looking,” she said, “but he’s always been pretty impressive to me.”