Keesha c.o.c.ked his head.

Arcove tried again. "The pictures in the human caves...with the talking animals all together...and the creasia off in a corner by themselves... Teek was going around with a rock, trying to scratch in an image of a creasia." Arcove stopped. He did not look at Keesha.

"I will paint you into the picture," said Keesha softly, "if you will let me."

Arcove did not have words to say what he wanted to say. At last, he dropped his head, rested his chin on the ground, and tucked his nose under the edge of Keesha's coil. It was a submissive gesture-a very creasia thing to do. However, Keesha seemed to understand. Arcove felt Keesha's great tongue brush the top of his head. "Peace, Arcove Ela-creasia. Peace between you and me and, I hope, between the creatures of Lidian."

Keesha drew back and nosed Arcove up onto his forepaws. "Now, let's see if you can walk. You were making some alarming noises earlier. We should go back up to the cave and make sure they're not panicking."

"You should have kept me quiet," muttered Arcove.

"Nonsense," said Keesha. "If I'd clamped down on you, you would have died of pure fright."

Arcove tried getting to his feet again and found that he could manage it. "Do you still want to hear about the trip that Roup and Coden and I made to the Southern Mountains?"

"Yes," said Keesha. He hesitated. "If you want to tell me."

"I do," said Arcove and meant it.

Epilogue: Two Years Later

"That's my name?" Arcove sniffed at the scratch marks on the wall of the shallow cave. They were so scuffed that many were illegible, especially in the weak morning sunlight, but Charder could make out a word here and there.

"Yes. I believe it says that a council has been called to elect a ferryshaft king, who will unite the herds in order to repel a vicious new enemy, Arcove Ela-creasia." Charder couldn't actually read all of the scuffed words. He didn't have to. He remembered when they'd been written. "The war scattered the ferryshaft who used to keep these records. They did it for generations, but they're all dead now. You filled in the caves before we could write anything else."

"Roup said the words talked about killing creasia cubs," said Arcove.

"They do," said Charder. "But you can't change the past, only the future."

Arcove was silent a moment. Finally, he said, "What are you going to write now that the caves are open again?"

Charder took a deep breath. "I'm not. You are."

Arcove looked at him in surprise.

"You closed these caves, and you reopened them. The next words on this wall should be yours."

"We all reopened them," objected Arcove. A large group of ferryshaft and creasia had been at work on the project for a season, clearing away rocks and digging through dried mud and shale.

"Only because you permitted it," said Charder.

Arcove snorted. "Keesha would have insisted."

"You didn't have to help," said Charder.

"I can't write on your wall. I can't-"

Charder smiled. "Can't" was not an easy word for Arcove to say, and he stumbled over the rest of the sentence. Can't read.

"I could teach you in a day," said Charder softly. He remembered the elders of his old herd arguing over whether creasia were sufficiently intelligent to learn to read. What idiots we were.

Arcove still looked uncertain. It was not an expression that Charder was accustomed to seeing on that face.

"When you are ready," continued Charder, "I think you should write that you gave the island fifteen years of peace, that you oppressed the ferryshaft as they had once oppressed creasia, that ferryshaft came to your aid during an uprising of your officers, and that you reopened the caves in grat.i.tude."

Arcove chuffed. "Is that what you think happened?"

"I can write my own version of events in my own time," said Charder serenely.

Arcove was looking more relaxed. Our writing is not your enemy, thought Charder. The past isn't even your enemy. You'll see that, once these caves become less mysterious, once they contain your words, and not just ours.

"In addition," continued Charder with a hint of mischief, "I think you should say that you appointed a ferryshaft to your council."

Arcove frowned. "I have not appointed you to my council."

"And that he was your friend," said Charder, "and respected you a great deal."

Arcove clearly had no idea what to say to that. Just when the silence was about to become awkward, Charder caught sight of So-fet, picking her way through the freshly turned earth of the cave floor. The ferryshaft who'd been working on the project were just waking up, while the creasia had mostly either gone to sleep or were out hunting. They'd worked almost non-stop over the last few days to finish it before the fall weather set in.

"Has he taught you to read yet?" So-fet asked Arcove.

Arcove said nothing. So-fet continued cheerfully. "Well, I hope not, because he hasn't taught me, and I think I deserve first go, since I am carrying his foal."

Arcove smiled at last. "Is that so?"

It was Charder's turn to look uncomfortable. They hadn't announced it yet.

So-fet had sought him out after the war. She was curious about her childhood, about her mother. Charder had been living in self-imposed seclusion then. He told himself that he was done with leadership. The fractured ferryshaft herd seemed to be getting along well enough without him. Charder fully expected to live out his days as a rogue, perhaps actively hunted by some of the ferryshaft who felt he'd contributed to their suffering.

He had spent the winter mostly alone. His hip pained him from an injury sustained in the avalanche. He missed Pathar acutely-the only ferryshaft whom Charder had allowed into his full confidence after the war. Charder felt every one of his forty years and wondered whether he could tolerate ten or twenty more years of loneliness before age or predators or disease claimed him.

Arcove showed up twice during the winter. The first time, Charder figured he was just checking on things, trying to keep track of the various elements of the ferryshaft herd who had scattered after the events by the lake. The second time, the snows were very deep, and Charder wondered at the considerable difficulty Arcove had taken to reach him. He came with Roup. They stayed in his cave for three days and brought down two sheep, which they left uneaten. On the morning of the third day, after Arcove had gone to sleep, Roup followed Charder outside. He said, "You should come back to Leeshwood with us."

Charder was startled. "Why?"

"We could use a ferryshaft on the council."

Charder could not tell whether Roup was joking.

"He's worried about you," persisted Roup.

"Arcove?" Charder was bewildered.

"You wouldn't be out here alone if it weren't for him."

That was true enough, but the idea of Arcove openly allowing a ferryshaft to sit on his council was so ludicrous that Charder dismissed it at once. However, as time pa.s.sed, he could not quite convince himself that Roup had been joking.

That spring, So-felt showed up. Charder was thunderstruck. However, after they got over some initial shyness, they talked for days. She had so many questions. Charder told her stories that he'd almost forgotten-about his herd before the war, his mates and foals-all dead now-about the plains beyond Leeshwood, about Coden and her mother, Lirsy, about feeding So-fet as a young foal and then distancing himself to protect her.

So-fet said that she could remember the sound of his voice-the only kind voice from her childhood. She spoke of her difficult first summer, the life she'd endured as a ru, how she'd given birth to Storm when she was hardly more than a foal herself. She'd taken a second mate because it seemed like the proper thing to do, only to discover that he was a bully who resented her first foal.

Near the end of that spring, she asked, "Why did you never take a mate after the war, Charder?"

"Because I thought Arcove might use mates and foals against me." Because it hurt too much to lose them.

"Do you still think he would have?"

Charder considered. "I don't know. I suppose I thought that I did not deserve a mate. I had to make hard decisions for the herd. I'm still not sure they were the right ones."

"You deserve a mate," said So-fet quietly.

Charder had peered at her-an elegant creature in her prime with deep red fur, flecked with just a bit of Coden's gray around her eyes. Something surged in his chest, but he forced it down. "You could get a high-ranking mate," said Charder quickly. "After what Storm and Sauny have done? Males would line up to sire your foals."

So-fet licked his muzzle. Charder felt something warm in the pit of his stomach-feelings he'd thought were long dead. "I am probably too old to sire foals," he continued weakly. "Furthermore, I am a rogue, despised by half of Lidian. You deserve someone young and strong-"

"I had two young, strong mates," interrupted So-fet. "I had my fill of them. What makes you think I want a foal every spring? You led the ferryshaft herd for fifteen difficult years; you are not weak, and you are not as old as you seem to think." After a moment, she added, "And I will always remember your voice as the kindest that ever spoke to me."

Charder gave up after that. They were very happy for the rest of that summer and fall. It was clear by winter that she had not conceived, just as Charder had expected, but he told himself that she would have plenty of years to grow bored of him and find a mate of her own age. In the meantime, he was blissfully content. They remained on the southern plains, far from any ferryshaft herd.

However, Storm and Tollee found them. They had run all the way around the rim of the island that summer with Tollee's yearling foal, Myla, together with Storm's creasia cub, Teek. The youngsters were bubbling over with stories of what they'd seen and done. The group had proceeded to make their way back around the edge of the lake, where they encountered Charder and So-fet.

Storm did not seem to know what to make of his mother's behavior, but both he and Tollee seemed exceedingly happy and willing to forgive past wrongs. Charder was near-certain that they would be having a foal next spring. Soon after their departure, a trickle of other ferryshaft began to appear-mostly older adults who'd known Charder before the war. They'd gone with Sedaron originally, but were dissatisfied. They missed the small herds that they remembered from their youth. And they missed their old herd leader.

Charder was surprised and touched. He ended up with about twenty animals-small enough to be friendly, but large enough to fend off curbs and help each other hunt in winter. It was a good little herd.

His friends brought news from across the island. More ferryshaft were wandering to more places than anyone could remember. The years of confinement in an unnaturally large herd on the northern plains seemed to have made everyone restless. Of the remaining herds, Sedaron still had the largest, but Kelsy was rumored to have the strongest with the largest number of young males. Sedaron had gone all the way to the far side of Groth with his herd and seemed to be trying to isolate them from the rest of the island.

Sauny and Valla had attracted a small, but dynamic herd with more females than males-an unusual situation. They were ranging all over the island and had spent the entire spring in Syriot, learning from telshees. Numerous other small herds had already splintered off-groups of five to thirty animals who had loose affiliations with one of the larger herds.

All of this sounded normal and healthy to Charder. He suspected things would settle down over the next five years and these various herds would choose more permanent territories. He found himself drawn back to his old haunts from before the war-hot springs near the foot of the cliffs south of Leeshwood, not far from the old caves where ferryshaft had kept their writing.

That winter was easier with friends to help with the hunting. Charder found that his hip did not pain him as much, or perhaps he simply did not notice it. Spring brought only two additions to their herd, as they had only two pregnant females. "What a world they will grow up in," murmured So-fet. "No cliques. No rues. No rogans."

Storm came again, alone this time. He'd been in Leeshwood recently. Teek had returned there and was living in Roup's clutter. This did not surprise Charder. He was surprised to learn that Storm, Tollee, and their newborn foal were living there as well, at least for the spring.

"You allowed your foal to be born in creasia territory?" asked Charder.

"Why not?" countered Storm. "It's safe from lowland curbs. They take more foals than any other predator. Ely-ary and lishties have attacked ferryshaft this summer as well. We're rogues; we don't have a herd to protect us. Roup's clutter is friendly."

Charder thought for a moment. "What about the highland curbs?"

"Oh, they're well. They had another litter of puppies this spring. I'm sure we'll visit them, but underground is no place to raise a foal."

Charder had to agree. Finally, he asked, "What does Arcove think of your foal in his wood?"

Storm grinned. "It made him a little uncomfortable."

I can imagine.

"He asked about you," continued Storm.

Charder c.o.c.ked his head.

"Lyndi Ela-creasia has taken a place on the creasia council," continued Storm.

"A female...?" began Charder.

"Shaw also comes sometimes," continued Storm.

Charder blinked. "Shaw...?"

"Yes, I think Keesha insisted. They let me sit in a couple of times, but I don't want a place on the creasia council." Storm grinned. "I can't be bothered to stay in one place all year." He hesitated. "But it's not bad-living in Leeshwood."

What is that supposed to mean?

Charder thought about what Storm had said as he watched Arcove practice making words in beach sand. It was the easiest place to teach someone to read and write. The process had taken a little more than a day, but not much. Roup had watched for a while, but he'd fallen asleep near noon. Arcove had continued stubbornly. Once he grasped the basic concept, he was determined not to stop until he'd finished. By the time the sun was setting, he'd memorized the last of the symbols and was consistently using them correctly.

"I think you've got it," said Charder. He was tired and he wasn't even a night animal.

Arcove grunted. He returned to the rocks and flopped down beside Roup, who didn't even stir. "You were right," he said after a moment. "It's not difficult."

Charder lay down a few paces away and yawned. He thought for a moment that Arcove had fallen asleep.

Then Arcove said, "So...your blood and Coden's."

Charder gave an uneasy laugh. "I didn't think she'd get pregnant."

"Do you have enough of a herd to protect the foal?"

"Yes." Charder peered at him curiously. It was too dark to read his expressions. "Do you want me on your council, Arcove?"

Arcove was silent a moment. "I'm sure you've had enough of me telling you what to do."

"Well, you did also threaten to kill me nearly every time we spoke," observed Charder. I've certainly had enough of that.

Arcove shifted uncomfortably. He did not look at Charder.

"You didn't answer my question," said Charder.

Arcove spoke carefully. "Ferryshaft are behaving in ways they have never behaved before. They are having foals in my wood."