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CHAPTER 14

Shug was bothered. There were things one did to take people away from a village. Using magic weapons wasn’t one of those. It called for discussion between the Elders and Shaman, for spiritual drinks and feasting, and vows. It took time, and had to be managed carefully, even if it was to return a traveler home. The spirits wouldn’t like this.

Though he wondered if the Byko could fight the spirits, or ignore them. None of them seemed to care much about the spirits, except for Rich.

He would need to find a way to explain it to Dan, that if they did find his village, which should be down the river a few days, that they would have to be gentler and kinder. His own status and home would be in danger like this.

For now he walked along, alert for any stalking. He assumed the village’s hunters would be chasing them. He was sure his people would if something like this happened to them.

He didn’t understand why Captin Sean didn’t just start back and forth between the villages, if he had many days. Even a double hand of days would make it an easier exchange, let everyone get used to the idea.


Sean was impressed. Arnet carried Lozano the entire way, without a pause or a swap. The unconscious man didn’t balance like a ruck, it was like carrying a dead body, or a huge sack, but Arnet held a good pace and didn’t seem any more strained than the others.

Both scientists seemed to be in some discomfort and fatigue, but they plodded along. He thought about offering help, but remembered he’d inquired if they’d keep up and they’d said yes. If they asked for assistance he’d do so, but they’d agreed to the terms and he was going to let them abide by that.

As soon as they entered the perimeter, Caswell took Noirot and Oyo each by the arm. “Come on. We’re going to the female shower.”

Raven dropped her pack and hurried forward, favoring her right leg. Her expression cleared up as she took the other side of Noirot. “I have this olive oil and mint soap. Very refreshing.”

Sheridan squatted down next to the girl. “Hey! Check this out!” She put down a toy with blinky lights and buttons, and the child was wide-eyed fascinated.


Rich Dalton felt much better when they got to the camp. He was still buzzing from intercepting that spear. Knowing the clothing was proof against hurled projectiles wasn’t the same as experiencing it, but it had worked as demonstrated, and the stiffening fabric had even prevented it from hurting, really. There’d been an all-over thump, then it fell.

He put the spear on the hood of Roller One, and turned to see what he could do to help.

Arnet rucked Lozano, awake and again cursing, behind the second vehicle. Cryder pressed something, and it popped up the camperlike shell tent they’d seen last time. They reached in and pulled out another shelter, shook it into a rough pyramid, which swelled up and took shape once on the ground.

Arnet bent and dropped Lozano to his feet; he immediately tried to duck under the taller man’s arm and run. Arnet reached out with a hand, grabbed with what looked for all the world like the Vulcan Neck Pinch, and the man collapsed. Arnet hefted, shoved, and Lozano was in the tent. The Guardian zipped the seam closed and thumbed the bottom.

“Sealed,” he announced.

“Wooz,” Cryder nodded.

The captain asked, “Holding cell?”

“Yup. He can’t get out. I’ll program a collar.”

“‘Collar’?”

“Zizzes him if he gets to the wards.”

“Like an invisible fence for dogs?”

“From context, yes, I think so.”

“Sorry. Okay, then. Dalton…actually, everyone. Be prepared for him to try to get violent. We’ll use further restraint if we must, but I’d prefer we coax him into agreeing to go back.”

Staff Sergeant Burnham said, “No worries here, Captain. I’m ready to go home now.” Even shaggy, the man looked like an NCO. Though he looked a lot older than thirty.

“Good. Though it’s going to be forty-four days of being a fobbit, with a rough terrain convoy near the end. Then to the far future.”

“What’s the future like, sir?”

Elliott grinned. “It’s fucking amazing, but we don’t belong there and they won’t tell us much.”

“Well, shit. Flying cars and space babes, though, I hope?”

He nodded agreement. “It has both. They’re not as cool as you might wish.”

“Hopefully I find out.”

“You may. We’ll have formation shortly.”

“I got the hint, sir. I’ll wait, you work.”

The women were at the shower station for a long time, but with easy replenishment of water, it shouldn’t be a problem. There were audible mutters and occasional louder voices, and once an enthusiastic “Woo!” It sounded as if they were glad enough. The little girl went in, too, and giggled, her feet barely visible at one angle, dancing around in the spray. Cute kid. Reminded him of his sister at that age.


Martin Spencer chose a different approach. “Dalton, want to get some beverage?”

“At once, Sergeant!” Rich replied. He picked up on using liquor to both release any inhibitions these guys had and make them homesick, and having the best military bearing possible as an example for them.

He went to the kitchen and grabbed the rum mix and a stack of cups.

Spencer nodded, took the cups, and said, “Pour, single shots.”

“Hooah.” It was easy enough to estimate, and he squeezed the bottle to dispense.

Spencer turned to the new troops and said, “You can have one shot each for now. I advise sipping. It’s going to be extra strong.”

“We have beer here,” Cole said. “Not very good, made from rice and old fruit and some spit, but beer.”

“Well, this is really good rum.” Or vodka flavored like rum.

He handed them each a cup.

“Gentlemen, to your recovery.”

Rich followed suit. He raised his glass, then brought it to his mouth and sipped. Damn, that was respectable.

Maldonado, a burly Hispanic, slammed his. He coughed at once, got it under control. Dumbass.

They settled down and seemed a bit calmer.

Doc came over and made a “gimme” gesture. Rich poured him one, too.

Spencer said, “You weren’t forgotten. We had no way to look for you. Our element was gone two years in an older time frame than this—hunter-gatherers only. It wasn’t until our future friends arrived from where they’d gotten tossed were we able to combine resources. Their people came looking for them, found us, and the Romans, and the Gadorth—a Neolithic group from what’s now near the UK—and some East Indians we barely talked to. They got us all home by way of their place. Then they came for us, to look for you.”

Lieutenant Cole asked, “Why couldn’t you pick us up the week after it happened?”

“Cryder?” Rich asked. He’d wondered that himself.

“I can’t explain it. I’m not that kind of scientist. All they can do is target anything they find. This is what they found.”

“I mean, why can’t you go back, now that you know where we are? Just avoid it?”

“I’m told it doesn’t work that way. Once contact is made it’s a locked line. I don’t know the math.”

Sergeant Burnham put in, “We’re grateful, most of us. Just pissed off that it took so long, and that someone else’s fuckup caused it.”

Rich understood. There was no one to blame, really.

There was an interruption then. Noirot came back in uniform, clean, scrubbed, hair brushed, with a light touch of makeup and unauthorized ear studs. Emotionally, though, she looked a lot more relaxed and secure.

Caswell looked at Elliott and said, “Sir, we applied the Byko soap.”

“Great, thanks.” That stuff was supposed to flush lice, fleas, ticks, and similar pests right off and gone.

Oyo seemed less bothered, more relieved. Raven bade her sit on a chair, moved behind her, and started running braids back along her scalp. At that, the woman smiled for the first time he’d seen.

Doc walked over. “We have a little more rum. I’ll authorize it after I check your pupils.” He went around with his flashlight, watching their dilation response.

“Yeah, no more than one more.”

Noirot said, “All I need now is a Coke.” She had her first shot and looked much less stressed. Her hair was still damp, and a bit shorter where tangles had been cut.

“You’re in luck,” Spencer replied, as Dalton ran to the vehicle. He returned with a can.

“Only a third,” he warned.

Keisuke said, “Oh, damn.” He started weeping, eyes damp, and struggled to get it under control.

Rich understood. The sheer emotional shock of being found was going to be overwhelming. He’d wait a bit, and let anyone in Christ know he was there if they needed him.

“It’s cool, son,” Spencer said. “We’ve got six weeks to get back into the right mindset.”

“Thank you, Sergeant First Class.”

“No problem. We’ll work on dinner in a bit. Now,” he instructed, “it’s time to shower. You can have ten minutes each, more or less. I’m not going to clock you, but get thoroughly clean and don’t waste more time than that. Lose the hair, you look like hippies.”

Cole pointed and said, “Hamilton, you’re first. By rank. I’m last.”

Hamilton replied, “Okay, Bri…” caught himself, and continued with, “Lieutenant.”

Rich was glad to see the officer still retained his proper protocols.

Noirot’s daughter came running up in a basic dress that looked like bright pink linen, with a matching hood, no doubt to help keep her located. She stared around confused, until she identified her mother’s face. She lit up in a grin, ran over and hugged Noirot’s legs; Mom scooped her up for a cuddle.

The two women seemed quite glad to be back in civilization.


An hour later, shaved, shorn, showered, and in uniform, the element looked a lot more like soldiers. Martin Spencer used a trimmer to get their hair to spec—tapered and clean around the edges, and a bit shorter on top. It was within regs, mostly. They looked significantly different and aware of it. He had a bit of trouble. Sergeant Jachike Uhiara had grown a pretty respectable Afro, and he had no idea how to trim it.

“Hey, Doc! A hand?”

Devereaux came running over. “What do you need?”

“I have no idea how to shape black hair, sir.”

“Uh, well neither do I, but I’ll try.” The man addressed Uhiara. “Is buzzed okay if we can’t get it right?”

“Sure thing, sir. Honestly as long as there’s no lice and it’s not too sweaty, I’m good.”

“Okay.”

Martin watched as Doc pruned the mass down to about a half inch and tapered it. The man had a deft touch, definitely a surgeon. Economy of movement, fast and precise.

“That’s better than most barbers, sir.”

Doc smiled acknowledgment. “Well, good. There you go.”

Standing up from the chair, Uhiara flexed his feet and noted, “The boots fit. That never happens.”

“And the field rations are good,” Spencer told them. “Our head cook isn’t here, but Caswell was second, and we’ve got better than native supplies this time.”

“What are we having?”

Caswell was a few feet away and said, “Sirloin tips with mushrooms, broccoli with cheese sauce, and baked potatoes. With orange juice.”

Keisuke exclaimed, “Oh my God!”

Uhiara said, “I’m in. What can I do to help?”

“Wash dishes afterward. We have the rest.”

The man nodded and grinned hugely. “Done.”

Arnet said, “However, first, you must drink this.” He had ten small vials that looked a lot like medicine cups with lids.

“Is what?”

“It is a broad-spectrum anti-parasite medication. Anything you have internally or that the soap didn’t remove will be gone within a day.”

“God, no more scratching! And inside what I have no idea.”

They didn’t argue. They took the vials and chugged. Cryder took one over to Lozano and, after seeing the others drink, the man complied.

Rich noticed they spoke half in English, half in the native language, but moved more and more to English as it went on.

At dinner, they lined up as instructed, and seemed thrilled at the novelty of actual plates. Then there was eating ware—the oddly shaped but comfortable Byko knives, three-pronged forks, spoons, and tongs that were almost salad tongs, almost chopsticks. They were served actual meat and trimmings. There was a slightly sweet orange juice, dialed down to about one-half normal mix strength. SSG Burnham took a tray over to the tent for Lozano.

Kita, Noirot’s daughter, wore an outfit that Cryder had cranked out on his fabricator. It could be Viking, or Russian peasant, or possibly it was Byko. She had an undertunic in white, the dress covered her torso, had a waistline and skirt. It was bright pink, with a matching scarf to keep her hair back. The girl positively bounced at her gift, regularly pausing to examine the fabric and fit. Canvaslike pink sandals confused her, and she shook her feet from time to time.

They gathered at the logs and chairs around the fire, and said almost nothing. They fairly devoured the food, making murmurs of pleasure and the occasional exclamation.

“What do we do with our dishes, Sergeant?”

Rich said, “Wipe them off at the vehicle and line up for dessert.”

“Dessert? We get dessert?”

Doc said, “Yup. Two bites of PB and J.”

“Are our guts that sensitive?”

“Ours were.”

They all responded enthusiastically to bread with sweetened spread. It was good quality peanut butter, and the grape jam was excellent. Kita took the bite her mother offered her, and was giddy. She grinned and bounced and danced and cheerfully took a second one, making “MMmmmmm!” noises.

Meanwhile, Sheridan, Oglesby, and Arnet rolled out more sleeping shelters.

Martin took charge and said, “Okay, gentlemen and ladies, here’s the accommodations. The bed is a twin model, very soft, with indirect lighting and overhead controls. Clothing storage is to your left, weapon rack to the right.”

Staff Sergeant Burnham seemed giddy as he bent to peer inside. “Holy shit. Clean sleeping bags. Air mattresses, even. And a light.”

Oglesby said, “And AC.”

Uhiara blurted, “You’re fucking with me.”

“Nope, AC controls right there.” He pointed. “Warm to cold, choose what you like. There is no turndown service, however.”

It was for certain these two were glad to be recovered. The debriefing would be the only tricky part.

Spencer said, “You can each pick, but we alternated rank, high to low, for dispersal, even though we don’t really need it here. Reveille is oh six hundred. We’ll do PT, breakfast, and get to work on paperwork and updates. You’ll get a phone with limited access that plugs in here for movies and such.”

Maldonado said, “Sounds good.” He seemed relaxed, but interested in being back to normal.

Letitia Oyo looked very pleased. “Thank you so much.”

Burnham muttered, “Vristak, that looks comfortable.”

“Yup. Latrine is around there, we have water, and if you need anything, someone will be on CQ near the trucks or the fire.”

“Hooah, Sergeant.”


Sean Elliott sat back from the report on the screen of his laptop, checked his clock, and it was cooler than hell to have it built into the uniform sleeve.

Crap. It was after 2300. They were getting up early to act like soldiers again. Dalton and Oglesby were still up, talking. He said, “Gentlemen, we’ll resume in the morning after the usual festivities.”

“Hooah, sir.”

He closed his laptop screen, then turned for his tent. It was rather chill, with heavy dew, but the Byko fabric worked very well against it. He felt fine, other than ears and fingertips.

So far so good, he thought. They’d recovered the element with minor squabbles, most were all in favor; the one, Lozano, would probably come around. Now they had to do craptons of administrative crap, then probably more for the Bykos, then definitely more for the Army. They also had to stay busy here before they returned.

Halfway across the field he heard “Captain Elliott?”

He turned. “Sergeant Noirot, what can I do for you?”

“It’s rather the other way, sir.” Her smile was…odd.

“What do you mean?”

“Can we go to your tent?”

“Uh…we can talk right here.” There were too many problems with her going to his. Assumptions would be made.

“I was thinking of more than talking.”

Oh, shit.

“That’s totally fine. We came to recover all of you, and we’re being paid by both governments. You don’t owe us anything.” Christ, how do I get out of this conversation, fast?

“We all owe you, and it’s what we do here. Any good deal is sealed with touch.” She was already fingering the buttons on her shirt.

“I see. Well, this is a US Army outpost. So I must graciously decline, with thanks. You do look much healthier and…good, since cleaning up. If you want to talk to someone, Sergeant Caswell is certainly the person you should look up. If you need any spiritual counseling, Sergeant Dalton is our stand-in for a chaplain, and very good at what he does. And I’m afraid I’ve got duty to attend to at present.”

“Okay,” she said to his back as he walked away quickly. He wasn’t sure that was enough.

In fact, Caswell and Spencer were sitting at the fire, talking. It was interesting that they’d gotten onto friendly terms, given the sheer panic Caswell had the entire time they’d been displaced. Spencer didn’t seem as constantly on edge, either. Apparently, both were quite different than they’d been under those circumstances.

He detoured over that way, as casually as he could manage.

“Sergeants, I could use your help.” He kept his voice soft and as calm as he could manage.

“Yes, sir?” Caswell said at once. Spencer was already standing up from his stool.

“Sergeant Noirot just attempted to sleep with me.”

“Uh?”

“She says any good deal has to be sealed with touch. That’s how they do things here. I advised her we most certainly don’t do it that way on an Army post, no matter how remote.”

Spencer said, “Not to cut in, sir, but she’s heading for your tent now.”

Caswell leapt up, said, “Shit, I’ve got this,” and took off at a sprint, slowing to a run, a brisk walk, a stroll, that took her around to the outside of the tents and then in past Sean’s bivvy.

He distantly heard her say, “Denise! Hey, how are you doing?”


Jenny knew exactly what had happened. It probably did work just fine in a society where people grew up with those expectations, and a culture made to handle it. Noirot wasn’t from that culture, and was trying hard to make both conflicting societies fit together. On top of that, her mission was the same as Jenny’s—search female detainees in A-stan, and accompany them as chaperone for the personal safety and comfort. That job was irrelevant here. Jenny was a skilled food harvester and cook, and could and had fought as needed. Noirot…apparently didn’t have a relevant primitive skill, and had been tossed in with other frightened troops seeking any way to make their hosts happy.

Noirot did smile and reply, “I’m doing good!”

“Cool. You should come over by the fire.” It was a chilly evening, fog moving in, and that was a good reason to get her over there, away from Elliott.

Noirot replied, “Oh, okay.”

Jenny had spoken loud enough for Spencer to hear. He had, and understood the hint. He rose and shuffled off toward the latrine. The captain had already disappeared, probably for the HQ awning.

As she and Noirot walked, Jenny interspersed conversation with a text to Dr. Raven. MEET ME AT THE FIRE. URGENT.

Noirot noticed the device and blurted, “Oh my God, you mentioned phones. They work here?”

“Yeah, but only with the Bykos and ourselves, of course. Not through time.”

“When do we get ours?”

Jenny wasn’t sure, but offered, “Probably a day or so, but you’re limited to talking to us as is.”

Her phone buzzed with a text.

Raven: ON MY WAY?

She swiped back, GIRL STUFF, HITTING ON CAPTAIN.

“Oh. Still, a game or two would be cool.”

“I’ll talk to Cryder. Their vehicles are pretty sophisticated. They have video and games, and we have movies on our phones and in the tents at least.”

Raven replied, YOU’RE WHAT???

NOT ME. NOIROT. DISTRACTING HER WITH GAMING TALK.

“That would be something. God, going home is going to be a shock.”

“Yeah, it was for us, too. We’ll lead you into it so it’s less of one.”

Raven came jogging to the fire, her weight and bad ankle obvious.

“Oh, hey, Amalie! Denise, you sit here with Dr. Raven and I’ll see about a little more rum.”

A very little. Loosening inhibitions was probably not ideal, but they needed to distract the poor woman.

As she ran for the liquor, she heard Raven ask, “What games do you play?”

“I’d just got into the new Doom, big time. Is it still around?”

“Yeah, that’s still around. It’s only been a couple of months for us, remember.”

Walking by, Spencer asked, “Shit, I remember the original.”

Raven giggled and said, “See? Not an issue even for old people.”

“I’m barely four years older than you, dirt-sifter.” He continued to his tent and away.

Raven giggled again.

Jenny was glad. Spencer was bright enough to have picked up the risk and was going to make sure Noirot knew there was late-night activity so she couldn’t skulk around. With a bottle of booze, flavored as a fruity sweet, she returned to the fire.

“Here, try a sip of this.”

She handed it over. Noirot took a bit more than a sip.

The woman shook her head and exclaimed, “Oh, that’s good! Did they bring a whole bar?”

“They mix it as they go. And it’s even better in their world.”

“Damn.”

“Hey, where’s your daughter? Kita?”

Noirot pointed. “She’s asleep in my tent. She adores the sleeping bag. Hell, I do, too.”

Jenny said, “Yes, it’s even better than a military bag, which would be pretty damned cool here. We wore ours out.”

Noirot sighed. “Yeah, ours are long gone. Zippers failed. Some got torn. Bugs got into them. Eventually we fireburned what was left.”

Raven asked, “You didn’t keep any for quilting or such?”

“Bugs. Couldn’t get rid of them.”

“But there’s ways to…oh.”

“Yeah, we didn’t know of any. Not that worked.”

The scientist replied sadly, “Damn. Some are easy.”

Jenny picked back up, “Well, these are awesome, and that won’t happen. Hey, Amalie, didn’t you say you wanted to check something before bed?”

Taking the hint, Raven glanced at her watch and said, “Yeah, in…twelve minutes. Close enough. I’ll go do that.”

“Okay. See you in the morning.”

“Yup. Night.”

“Night.”

Noirot said, “Good night, Doc.”

After Raven was out of the circle of light, Noirot asked, “So, she’s a technical contractor?”

Jenny explained, “She’s some sort of uber-biologist, geneticist, paleo-infection expert. Checking on things here that could infect us back home. They assigned her to us after we got back.”

“Ah, you’ve known her a while.”

“No, we only met when this round started. Everything is secret. Our therapist doesn’t know them, they don’t know her, everything is sanitized documents. No one would believe us, and we did get some calls from kooks.”

“Kooks?”

“Alien abduction types who wanted ‘the real story.’”

“Oh.” The woman looked concerned.

“Yeah. It’s really very serious that you never mention any of this back home to anyone. Sergeant Spencer’s wife doesn’t even know. Nor do the spouses of a couple of others. We can talk to each other very carefully, but not where it can be overheard or interpreted.

“So, anyway, Arnet probably has some sort of game system that can generate something you want to play if you give it ideas. Just ask the system in your tent, by voice. It can focus video and sound. And a couple of us will be happy to play with Kita so you can have some downtime.”

“Cool! I’ll give that a try.”

Good. Now, how to present this?

“Yeah, just be careful how you describe it. I accidentally got erotica.”

“Oh? Erotic game?”

“No. Erotic movie-like thing, with sensory touches and 3D audio and video.”

“Damn. And they don’t like that?”

“It wasn’t a problem at all. They have it for a reason. I just wasn’t expecting it. I was in their truck. And I gather he enjoyed my reaction when it hit.”

“Hah. Perv.” And damn it, the woman looked over that way. To be fair, the Bykos were built.

“Nice enough. He never mentioned it, and the shell is opaque and silenced, so it didn’t embarrass me. Just ask the system directly for what you want.”

Jenny had. Being able to be alone, mostly, away from her element, made it possible to forget the strain for a short period of time. And if this woman was stressed, recovering, hormone-laden and lonely, it was much safer to have her there than hitting on the commander, or anyone else. She’d warn the Guardians, but expected they’d be prepared and have no interest.

Noirot said, “Got it. I wonder if it has porn games.” She snickered, but underneath she sounded interested. Well, good.

“I would assume it does.” They absolutely did. “They’re pretty uninhibited. Wait until you see what they wear, or don’t.”

“Oh?”

“Hmm…I think…yes, I can access some on my phone. Hold on.” She pulled it out and spoke. “System. Show me images of Byko women in evening wear like at the Mad Lab. Scroll.” She moved closer to Noirot and shared the screen.

Her phone began a slow overlay of women in dresses, skin treatments, paint, and flowing outfits.

“Oh, damn,” Noirot muttered. “They’re fucking gorgeous.”

“Well, they all have access to cosmetics, treatments, surgery, and a lot more advanced medicine than we do.”

“Still. Oh, that gown is hot.”

She liked that one? It was the closest Jenny had seen the Byko get to a stripper outfit.

“Yeah, they have a huge array of styles.”

She discreetly asked, “Are you married here? Or whatever equivalent they have?”

“Sort of,” Noirot agreed. “But only the last couple of years. I was helping smooth things over between groups, when we arrived.”

“Oh?” Jenny didn’t want to hear this because she knew where it was going.

“They like to share partners with traveling groups, and Oyo wasn’t their type. They really don’t go for black girls.”

“They either like the exotic,” Jenny explained, running a hand through her red hair, “or they don’t. Little in between.”

Noirot said, “Yeah, most of us are mated, that’s going to be one of the complications, and why Argarak was pissed at us leaving.”

Jenny said, “That’s definitely something I’ll bring up with the captain and Cryder. Anyway, I need to go to bed. You probably should, too. Cuddle that baby for me.”

“I will. Thanks, Sergeant.”

“For this you can call me Jenny. I’m sort of a unit social counselor, since we’re basically a fire team trying to do everything. ‘Sergeant Caswell’ when we actually go out.”

“Got it. Thanks, Jenny.”

“’Night, Denise.”

Hopefully, that had stalled any issues until Noirot could get proper therapy, or at least until they could arrange schedules so she couldn’t reach the captain after dark.


Shug jarred out of sleep. It was early, barely dawn, and that sound was a hunter’s shriek, with a crackling buzz like a very big beetle.

Why?

He slid the bed fastener and rolled out, pulled the cover on the tent, and sprang into the dewy grass.

It was a hunting party from the flat river village. Three spears stuck in the ground, and one of their party was cocking back for another throw. One of them was down at the magic fence line, not moving.

The one throwing stepped too far forward, reached the fence line, and that crackling noise sounded, with a blue flash. He stumbled back and fell flat.

Cryder and Arnet were running about, along with Rich and Sean, with their magic weapons. Those made their odd thumping sounds, and four more of the attackers were on the ground.

Shug wanted to help, but there was nothing he could do, so he sat back near his tent. It was frustrating and scary to have only a knife. He was a hunter, he could fight, but the weapons the other people used made his useless. Even their magic shiny knife was nothing against the invisible things thrown by the shoulder weapons.

It was all over in heartbeats. The remaining hunters ran off, though they did pick up the body of one of the throwers.

Dan ran his way, and spoke. “It is all right. Are you all right?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Be calm.”

“I is. Thanks.” He said the latter in their speech.

“You’re welcome.”

There was an immediate council with Arnet, Cryder, Sean, and Martin. Then Steven was called over, and he motioned to Shug.

Shug walked over, hoping he wasn’t in trouble for anything and that they needed his help.

Steven asked, “Shug, I think they are scared, angry at our going, and think we rude. Is that correct?”

“That feels correct,” he said. “They adopted you, and you have left without asking or trade. There is always trade when someone leaves a village for another.”

Steven turned back to the others, talked, then turned back.

“Would more gifts in trade make them happy with it?”

“I don’t know. Females are supposed to mate, as you know, and be traded. None of the females here remained. Then, workers and hunters were taken, but not enough food or large things were traded, only shinies. Shinies don’t feed the village.”

There was more discussion. Shug waited patiently, catching occasional words. “Veecul” he recognized. “March.” “Weapon.” One of the words for food.

Steven finally turned and said, “Okay, thank you for helping. We like your words.”

“Thank you, please tell them,” Shug replied.

His words were useful to them. Good. He wondered what would happen next.

It appeared the hunters were waking up. The magic weapons had made them sleep. They shook and rose, looking very confused and tired, then slunk down and slipped away silently, but he watched them.


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