Deepwood Weald tropicalis

did he think she would leave with cen? the man had said seven weeks. sulukinak did not want to go—not until she must. there was time for her to make up her mind, or to have it made up for her.

angry? no. sulukinak did not know what she felt, except for sick right now. she began to move again, but paused a moment, murmuring, need water. and she moved again at a slow enough pace that would invite dutch along.

it would not take many strides to find a puddle, and further again there was a rivulet of water, like a shallow ditch, for which she could slake her thirst and maybe hold down the rest of the caribou.

thinking of the hunt, she mentions—he says i hunt well. cen.